S.O.S. Take 2 (2021)

S. O. S.

Survival of the Shawangunks

(Link to prior & more focused race report)

This post mainly captures my headspace and things that were different from 2019.  I covered motivation for signing up for it again in my last post.

• Last minute registration (5 weeks before race date) while not having a qualifying time.
• Haven't run any serious hills since running this same race in 2019.
• +15 lbs.
• No sherpa needed (new this year - bus ride provided from Mohonk to Fairgrounds, where post-race food & awards were held).
• Traveled alone and camped at race site.

Headspace: I’ve never expected my friends to have any interest in this race; it’s too… fringe, I think.  But then again, maybe I don’t understand people’s motivations in the least. 

 

F-book and text message conversations within my triclub presented what I thought was real interest in Ironman Alaska, registration opening on Aug 16 for the 2022 race.  But when it came down to it, I alone pulled the registration trigger. 

 

This touches upon a space deep inside where I am truly confused regarding the intentions of others, namely those who state they will show up somewhere at a set time and place (or register for an event), but then flake (or back out).  In college I attributed this to sorority girls being unreliable; but now with people whose friendships I value…, what is my lesson?  My work-around has been to only plan for things I’d be content doing alone.  But if happiness is only real when shared, where does that leave me?

Bike

• Warmer day (maybe 60°F in the morning), similar kit, with calf sleeves hoping to hold off the strain from Timberman that I assumed would reappear.
• The waves were re-adjusted, with the oldest men now rolling out ahead of the older women.  This combined with my new age group, had me in wave 6 of 7.
• > 10% drop in FTP and ego kept fully in check, came to 10-11 min slower this year.  
• Mental soundtrack: Everloving by Moby, Society by Eddie Vedder.

  

30 mi bike from Ulster County Fairgrounds to the lower
Awosting parking lot.

The last 5 miles of the bike course climb ~1100 ft.

Run 1 (to Awosting)

• Transition area was more formally organized this year, with bike parking like Rev3 used to have it (eg at Quassy) and even a stool for each competitor. 
• Shortie wetsuit worn throughout race; applied trislide to groin of suit to ease friction from rubbing of the neoprene.  Figured compression & warmth to muscles would be nice, but suit was difficult to run uphill in.  
• Lots of gnats or whatever swarming my face, don't remember that last time, am guessing bugs are due to warmer temps this year?  NTS, should have put bug spray in transition bag.  
• Net pace 15:05/mi, was 12-13 min slower than last time. 

 

4.5 mi run from bike-in to Lake Awosting.

Note the steep elevation change at "Cardiac Hill".

  

Swim 1 (Awosting)

1.1 mi swim, in which the exit is not visible
until you get around a slight granite outcropping.

• I put my visor and bottle in my sports bra like last time, but this was less comfortable under the pressure of the wetsuit.  By the end of the day my sternum would feel bruised.  
• Water was cool, but temp not too bad.  I tried to hold a line farther from the shore since this is what the people passing me last time were doing, and this made for a nice sight line of kayaks.  
• Felt like I was making good progress, and veered a bit toward shore when I saw 2 kayaks at the edge, mistaking them for the exit, I guess.  Once closer to shore I think I stopped making forward progress and I got a bit discouraged.  I checked the weather before I traveled and saw wind would be picking up once off the bike.  I wonder if this is where the impact is really felt, maybe the wind pushes the water toward the shore and then when closer to it, you get hit by the return wave.  
• I paused to get my bearings, talking with the kayaker who'd come along side me.  Knowing I was nearly last on course, I was thinking they might pull me since I wasn't making any forward progress.  He assured me that I was making progress and didn't have much farther to go.  
• I felt better than last time - definitely warmer with the wetsuit on, cramping less, able to stand and walk out without issue.  But I still didn't kick usefully, being afraid the extra drag from my shoes would lead to cramping.  
• Result: >8 min faster than last time, and I left this space:

1) At peace that I'd met my race goal - I exited the swim not hypothermic and my head was definitely in a better place; 

2) Concluding there are still things about this particular swim that I have not yet solved; and 

3) Surprised to hear there were still 2 people in the water behind me.  I never saw them, or any other racer on the course from here out.

Run 2 (to Minnewaska)

• I enjoyed the smell of pine in the air but did not care for the bugs that re-found me.  This was made better by the bug spray I was able to use at the Castle point aid station.  
• Definitely warmer and less windy through here than in 2019.  
• Net pace, 13:50/mi, was 6-7 min slower than last time.  

5.7 mi run from Awosting to Minnewaska.

The peak is Castle Point.

Swim 2 (Minnewaska)

• The water was lovely and I swam a straighter trajectory than in 2019, both of which kept me in good spirits throughout.  
• Last portion had suspended silt or something that found its way straight to my sineuses.  
• Experienced some cramping in my left leg as I climbed out.
• Result, almost 1 min faster than before.

0.5 mi swim with a clear view of the exit
as well as a rope marking the entire route.

Lake Minnewaska with one small buoy visible.
Water temp was 69°F this year.

'Lake Minne', zoomed toward swim exit.

Run 3 (to Mohonk)

• Felt ok for the first half of this run, but then started to fade. 
• It was getting hotter (predicted to be 82°F) and the tenacious bugs were pestering me again. Another blast of bug spray and now pouring water on myself at the aid stations to cool down.  
• There was some kind of unmarked tree limb work occuring above the Undercliff Trail, and people shouted to me to go back and around.  Uhm, no.  From the urgency in their voices and the sound of crashing limbs above me, it seems I was lucky to not get hit.  
• By the time I made it to the last aid station, I actually asked them to just shoot me.  Fatigue had fully set in leading me to walk most of Godzilla.  
• By the end of this run I could hear the cheers from the finish line that I was till >30 min from reaching.  
• Net pace, 14:46/mi, was 14-15 min slower than before.

8 mi run from Minnewaska to Mohonk.

The climb starting just before mile 7 is known as "Godzilla".

Swim 3 (Mohonk)

• Despite the physical and mental fatigue at this point, I was once again lost in wonder during this swim.  Such a magical spot.  
• This year there was a buoy placed right near the climb out point, which made sighting much easier.  
• I still had to negotiate some cramping during the exit, but the task was also simpler this time knowing I'd done it before.
• Result was 1-2 min faster than last time.

The last swim is also ~0.5 mi long.

View of Mohonk Lake and the resort.

Run 4 (to Skytop)

The last run segment.

• I started out with a shuffle-jog up this but quickly gave up and walked.  Just too tired.  
• Fewer people up here this time, which makes sense given I was a later finisher than before.  
• Net pace, 26:35/mi, was almost 5 min slower than last time.

This last litte 0.4 mi stretch up to Skytop is particularly nasty,
with a staircase positioned at that inflection point. 

This is what the finish line looks like.  Seems you need to be
a sub 7 h finisher to get a photo here though.

• As before, no photographer.  
• And this time no finisher's towel either b/c they miscounted and didn't bring enough up.  Good thing I had my own in my finish line bag, so I didn't have to get completely naked in public to change out of my wet gear.  (I got my towel later, back at base camp).
• My overall time was ~38 min slower this year, but my state of mind was much better.

Post race

View from Skytop.

The folks serving finish line snacks were packing up when I arrived.  I got a cup of soup and scarffed down 3 slices of watermelon - I'd have eaten more if it weren't windy and cold up here. 

 

I changed at a cluster of benches which happened to be near their truck, and when I was offered a ride to the bottom I jumped at the chance.  They graciously upped their offer and took me all the way back to the fairgrounds and we had some nice conversation too.  

I dropped my bags at my car, packed up my tent, retrieved my bicycle (hey, why's my tire flat and my chain dropped?), grabbed a beer and ate a little food, and then joined the cue for a massage, where I got to partake in some post-race comraderie with others waiting in line.  These brief connections and shared joy with others post race were just what I needed.  I head for home, physically tired but spiritually rejuvinated.

Race Report - IM Timbman 70.3, Aug 2021

Preamble

There was a point earlier this year when it seemed announcements for race registration openings were constant.  Ironman has pretty much taken to spamming the heck out of people between "New race announcement coming!", "Registration opens in X days", "Registration is open!", and "It's not too late, spots still remaining in such-and-such race!!"   In the past I opted out of marketing emails but that unfortunately impacted email for race(s) I was registered, which could have been really problematic if my friends hadn't been racing the same event(s).  So now I just put up with the spam and earlier this year my stance had been: I've already given Ironman $800 (in 2019) for a race in 2020 that never happened (St George), so have no intention of giving them any more until my make-up-race (Couer d'Alene) actually takes place.

Well, sort of.  I did jump on registration opening for St George 2022.  I still want to get to that 'limited addition' full course.

(Get's back on soap box and waggles index finger): But no other races, at all, until after CDA!

So there I was, out for a run (July 9) once my trauma from excessive heat & sun-exposure following CDA had worn off, when that itch to sign up for something worked its way into my brain.  A variety of fulls still had open registration (Wisconsin, Texas - Texas - TEXAS) but I didn't want to fit another build for that distance in around my pending work travel and the real kicker: neither race motivated me to do so.  I've already done Wisconsin & loved it, so don't want to do it again unless I can smash my prior time which I was not poised to do this year.  Oh, and 'meh' on TX.

Several halfs were available.  Should I go for Augusta and work in a visit with my dad?  Or the half in Madison as I was likely to be there anyway (sold out).  Muskoka could have been a winner but staying within the US boarder seemed the smarter strategy given the on-going Covid landscape.  Then I remembered Timberman. 

Timberman was one of the New Hampshire courses I'd long wanted to do (along with Mooseman), but had never gotten around to it before Ironman discontinued it (2016).  I assume the reasoning for the latter was to avoid poaching their own business away from Lake Placid 70.3, and Old Orchard Beach which they'd just 'acquired' from Rev 3.  I wonder if they brought it back just to soak up the americans who had been training for Mount Tremblant (full) which was cancelled ('Covid').  Anyway, I thought it would be great to race at another event bound to have lower registration numbers, was imaging Timberman might be offered as a once and done, and bonus - it would be a fun chance to work in a visit with my friend Marianne up near Boston.

With that plan all laid out and fees already paid, what should hit my facebook feed but notice of a rare opening of limited registration spots for Survival of the Shawangunks, which was looking to back-fill for folks unable to race this year due to... you guessed it: Covid.  I had such a tough go of that race, was I anywhere near poised for another crack at it?  Eh, probably not.

A few days later, I was out for my long run and I started thinking about SoS.  What had gone right, what had gone wrong, what was the same or different now with my training.  And more importantly, what would I hope to get out of signing up at this late date, given I'd still be unlikely to do very well this year?  The answer: joy in my heart.  That's what I really wanted.  To do that race with no expectations, no anger for doing poorly, no wondering whether my friends had fallen off a cliff b/c I hadn't seen them, and only with joy in my heart for being there.  Oh, and to come out of swim 1 not feeling hypothermic.

• Let's pause for a learning moment: Running is apparently the gateway drug for longer and harder running events.

Anyway, after a quick check in with my coach to ask whether SoS 3 weeks after Timberman would be an enormously bad idea, I laid out another registration fee while noting I still needed to qualify to participate.  SoS requires a sub 15 h result at a full or sub 7 h in a half in year 2021, and my time from CDA was off by a metaphorical mile (1 h 26 m).  This meant I had to clear 7 h at Timberman.

The race

• Venue: Opechee Park, Laconia, NH
• Swim: Opechee Bay, single loop
• Bike: starts as rolling but grows teeth along the way, ~2900 ft
• Run: almost 2 loops around the lake, then divert for final 5k, 541 ft

Game plan: I started by looking at my 1st half splits from CDA and realizing those were a long way off of a 7 h finish (by >1h).  Based on recent runs I'd hoped I could hold a 13 min/mi on the run (I'm still run-walking), and assuming no improvement in swim or transition times, estimated I needed a 3 h bike split to avoid taking this to the wire.  I pinged my coach: what wattage will get me there?  Answer: well it's kinda impossible for me to answer that.  Then there was some semi-fuzzy logic and finally a response 'try 115W'.  Great, only problem was I didn't honestly think I could bike a 3000 ft 56 mi ride in 3 h, so my run was going to need to be solid.

• 

  Swim in counterclockwise direction.

  Water temp was 76.3° F at check-in, aka super warm and not wetsuit legal.
• Transition was small, a clue to the number of registrants, well laid out and I had a pretty good rack position not far from the pro's (Rinny & Heather the only two I could name).
• The finish line was nearly a mile in one direction and parking was over a mile in the other, didn't seem that big a deal pre-race. 
• No concessions at the park for spectators.
• Weather prediction: air temp 67-74° F, with hurricane Henri due Sunday at 4:30 pm so we'd probably get to finish the race, but you never know.  

I stayed in literally the only place I could find, ~20 miles away in Louden.  The Quality Inn was convenient enough, albeit a bit ghetto, especially if you're prone to noticing things like heavy dampness, odors, grime at the baseboards, ceiling and wall damage in various states of "repair", gnats hovering at the sink, sounds coming from adjacent room... you know, small things like that (shudder).

Race morning: up at 4:15, out door at 5, parked at 5:40, in transition by 6 & leaving just enough time since I brought my own pump.  Transition closed at 6:30 am.  Short port-a-john cue then time to don my wetsuit (water temp now 75° was still pretty warm, but wetsuit legal for age groupers).  I joined the 40-43 min group for the rolling swim start.

The entire swim was nice.  Water seemed clean, not choppy, buoys were easy to spot, and my line was pretty much contact free.  I settled in right away, breathing to one side for 4 strokes, taking a glance forward on a 3 count while switching sides, then breathing to the other side for 4 strokes.  This kept me more in line than for CDA but I still need to improve.  I stood up at 42 min and crossed the mat at 44 after wetsuit removal.  Transition, 3:32.  No neck pain.  

Right away on the bike I came upon a guy swerving all over the place while he fought to get his shoes on.  Called out loudly ON YOUR LEFT b/c I didn't want to get taken out.  Then he started to pass me on the right and I called him out on his illegal pass.  He came back with a 'well if you're gunna pass, pass' and I suggested he put his shoes on in transition and get on his bike ready to ride.  To his credit, he dropped back and passed me legally on my left.

Bike course.  Goes south to Loudon.  Then
north to ~mi 35 before heading east into
steeper climbing.

The road quality heading out of town was exquisit brand new smooth asphalt and I felt like I made use of primarily 2 gears while riding it: either my lowest one while climbing and trying to not blow up my target wattage early on, or my highest one just before coasting b/c I was going faster than I could pedal on the decents.  It was a bit windy and I was looking forward to what I thought would be a tailwind in the other direction.  Add inability-to-properly-detect-wind-direction to my inability-to-hold-a-straight-line-while-swimming.  Whatever the direction, the gusty crosswinds kept things spicy.  Also add in the appearance of bonus neck pain.

Bike profile

There was a mile and a half out-and-back at the NH Motor Speedway, where sections of nice tarmac were broken by harsh segmentation lines (ba-blam) that had me looking forward to the hills where I could sit up and give my neck a rest (ba-blam).  Not sure what I hit as I wouldn't think just a groove (ba-blam) would do it, but the aero cover for my front brake (TriRig) went flying off through here.  I mighta stopped if I'd known then for sure that's what it was.

Around mile 35 the course takes a right turn and you begin steeper climbing, the kind that makes you check over and over again if there's another lower gear you could possibly shift into.  Some folks were walking.  And while much of the course had benefit from recent road resurfacing, the long downhill at ~mile 40 was still bumpy and somewhat scary, not to mention the occassional wind gusts.  In other words, once in aero you just stay there and f'ing hold on.  Hit my top speed through here ('40 mph') and came out of it with another unintended bike adjustment: now instead of an upward tilt to my pads and extensions, my hands and pads were pointing downward.  Knock on effects: a) my BTA straw was now just out of comfortable reach, b) steering felt weird with my arms at a different angle, c) nerves felt a little nervy which played out as my becoming increasingly conservative on the remaining decents.  Though the last one back to town was once again on gorgeous pavement, it had started to drizzle and fresh asphalt plus fresh rainfall were things I was unwilling to combine with my rattled nerves and (maybe minorly) compromised steering; took that one while sitting as upright as possible.

• Special call-outs: the unmentioned no passing zone by the motor speedway (why on earth not mention this in the athlete breifing??), and the train of people who passed me and others through here.
• The guy on a TT bike blatantly sucking the wheel of the girl on a road bike.
• Cheaters suck!

My bike time (3:30) left me no wiggle room for the run.

Counter clockwise 1.75 laps around the lake, then
a left / westward turn for the final 5k.

After a quick transition (<2 min), I head out feeling pretty good.  My plan was for 3 min intervals of 2:15 running, 0:45 walking.  At home that made for a super comfortable first half and slightly less comfortable second half 80-100 min runs at an average pace of 12 min/mi, and I was hoping to bank on energy from the race vibe to get me to the finish line around that pace.  But given how tight this would be, I looked for opportunities to skip walking, notably on declines where I always tend to feel stronger. 

Run profile

All was good for the first lap (mile 1-5 splits ranged 10:35-11:28), in on-again off-again light drizzle, then around 6 miles in, my calf went wonky.  No idea why, I didn't step weird but all of a sudden it felt very strained and I couldn't launch off my right foot.  I could put that leg forward and then come up to meet it, but I couldn't even walk normally.  There was no way I'd break 7 h if I didn't find a way to get by, so I curled my toes up inside my shoe, tightened my glute as much as possible, and struck with my heal the remaining miles while still trying to take advantage of the down grades to skip walking and make up some time (miles 6-8 ranged 13:21-15:25). 

Time to note this was my 2nd M-dot race with randomly generated race numbers and no body marking.  ie no way to tell who or even how many were in your AG.

Then a woman passed me who obviously also had something wrong with her gait.  At first I watched her go, but I started thinking she might be my age and I wasn't ok with being out-gimped by a lady in my age group.  So once I crossed over to the final 5k and she dropped to a walk at the water table, I pressed on hard to mile 12 (splits dropped from 12:22 to 9:45).  There I was almost blown off the road by a different lady who came absolutely flying by me; no chance of catching her.  Shortly after I came upon a girl who had passed me at the beginning of my strain phase and I tried to motivate her to run with me - she finished right behind me and thanked me for keeping her engaged.

Final time 6:52:25.  Mission "sub 7" accomplished.

Afterward

The mile walk from finish to transition, in soaked kit, limping along in the wind and rain, stunk.  I was too cold to hang out for food in tents that provided coverage from rain but not shelter from the wind.  I wanted to change into dry clothing - I'd brought some - but I'd have gotten wet anyway walking the next mile to the parking lot.  I gathered my stuff, which was all alone in the partly disassembled transition area, and headed toward my car.  

The chop on the previously-calm bay underscored the scene: we were lucky the storm didn't cancel the race.  Some racers were still passing the aid station at mile 10 (where parking was), and I marveled at the volunteers standing in the rain with outstretched arms offering suuport.  By the time I got my things in my car and wiggled into dry clothing, the aid station had been completely broken down.  

Seat heater: on, interior temp: set to 82, and it still took about an hour to work off the chill.

More #'s:

• Starters: 42 AG, 276 F, 774 people
• Finishers: 36 AG, 249 G, 702 people
• My placement: 22nd AG, 191st F, 573rd

Race Report - Ironman Couer D'Alene 2021

Lake side at the first bike turn around, with a crystal clear view of the shore under the water.

This was my first race post COVID shutdown and since Survival of the Shawangunks.  Check in was super easy and I think it might be nice for IM to permanently incorporate designated race & bike check in times.  Having fewer people around made things so simple - easy to check out transition layout, easy to mill about the merch tent...  I was also happy to be able to view the athlete briefing from the comfort of my air conditioned accommodations vs sitting in the sweltering sun to hear nearly all the same stuff said at every other race I've done.

Transition area was well-shaded, frankly a god send given the race day temps.  I had great rack location, 3rd bike from end of row, adjacent to the paved path through the park, & closer to bike in/out than to swim in/run out.  Since race #'s were given out based on order of check in, I was surrounded by dudes of various ages - kinda neat actually since for me there was no underlying urge to size them up as competition.

No changing tents due to covid, so this was my first full using a traditional transition area.  Not sure if this would have worked with another 1000+ competitors, but it was just fine for the ~2100 rack #'s the race had.  This setup also made the morning clothes bag unnecessary (just leave your things in your transition bag).

Sunrise on June 27th was ~4:50 am so there was plenty of light as I got to transition.  At bike check in I found the location of the pumps and confirmed they'd be in the same spot race morning.  Alas, they weren't.  Now rolling my bike around an active pre-race transition area, I found a guy with a pump strapped to his back & wearing a shirt that made me think he was race / bike support, but apparently only so for clients on the list, was I on the list?  Next pump I found wouldn't seat right and trying to use it deflated the tire.  Moral - enough of this nonsense, time to travel with a full sized pump and if I have to throw it out race morning (if I have no spectator to hand it off to), then so be it.  Thankfully the guy setting up his things right there let me use his pump and he even offered to hold my crack pipe in place, versus my usual method of holding it on with one big toe while standing on one foot to pump.  Thanks guy!

I started donning my wetsuit shortly before the age group start (5:35 am) and then joined the back of the 1:20-1:30 pack in the swim staging area.  This was also in a grassy and shaded area which was great b/c it took a long time to get us in the water.  I'm thinking people expecting slower races were maybe joining faster swim groups so they could get a jump on what was going to be a very hot day.  Whatever, I was just thankful we weren't waiting in the sun.

Our group was brought to the beach and this is where I got my first touch of the lake.  It was amazing.  Nice clear water, 70 degrees.  I was racing at +20 lbs vs my prior full at Vineman, so to ease disappointment I couldn't fit in my Roka from 2016, I picked up a Roka Maverick Pro Thermal wetsuit thinking it would be a good purchase for both CDA and St George next year.  With the high air temps heading into race week I had been crossing my fingers the lake wouldn't warm up too much, but 70 was perfect.  We entered the water 2 at a time, 5 seconds apart.  For me that was 6:41 am.

The swim was 2 loops with a short beach run to hit the mid-point timing mat.  The outbound and inbound buoys were 3' pyramids and the turn buoys were 5', so even with some sun in the eyes everything was easy to see.  The water was pretty calm and the spread out swim start made this as nice as it could be.  Still, I swam more zig-zagged a trajectory than most people would think was possible.  I'd somewhat blindly hoped I'd break 1:30 based on my pool paces but accept 1:39 (includes wetsuit removal) as what I get for not having any open water spotting practice in nearly 2 years.

Exiting the swim, I walked up the sand portion and then jogged a little to my rack.  Laid my wetsuit under my bike, put on socks, shoes, chamois cream, sunscreen, helmet, and rolled out for a T1 of 6:36.  I could have done better but I didn't care.

Once on the bike the impact of my having spent the past 5 months swimming almost exclusively with a snorkel became clear - my neck was killing me & I couldn't turn my head to the left.  Oh well.  My target for the course was 100 watts.  This is lower than I'd thought we'd go with but given the projected temp I was glad to consider it totally doable. 

The bike course is 2 loops: ~7 miles out & back through downtown, residences, & around the east side of the lake; then ~21 miles out & back on highway 95 west of the lake.  It has nice rolling hills and zero shade.  Initially I'd planned to race with only concentrated nutrition in my BTA, just refilling / diluting at every aid station, but I ended up adding a downtube cage to my frame so I could carry clean water for drinking and wearing.  I also brought salt (a pill per hr), additional chamois cream, and enough nutrition for a 7 h ride.

First lap, not so bad.  Target wattage had me in my granny gear and passed by several riders on every climb.  But on level ground I was surprised it was possible to pass some of them back and on descents I went flying by people (max speed ~40 mph).  Not sure why, maybe based on simple comfort / experience with my bike?  I watched for signs of cross winds on open parts of the course and did detect a little wind, but nothing very squirrely.  Great road quality and lips at overpasses were not too jarring.

I don't usually race with a down tube bottle, but extraordinary heat calls for extraordinary measures.

Second lap was slower and so much hotter.  My master plan was to not stop at all on the bike.  Remembering Vineman (which was only 80 degrees), I was already expecting it to feel like I'd stepped into an oven once I got off the bike due to loss of air movement.  This was sure to feel worse at 100 degrees so I wanted to delay that sensation as long as possible.  Thing is, the 1.5 mile climb up Cougar Gulch (5% grade) felt like biking in a furnace - full sun, no air movement, 100 degree air temp, 115 degrees coming off the road surface (as measured by bike computer, was 132 as measured by a different gauge outside of transition), I'd taken the last of my salt and my legs were cramping.  I had to stop and the aid station at mile 80 was the first source of shade I could find. 

My goal of surviving the day had me climbing
upright, in my granny gear - not very badass 

When I pulled over my legs cramped worse and I was stuck there like a tinman.  Thank god for the absolutely fantastic volunteers.  They got me ice - a shovel full on my chest and another one on my back.  They got me ice water - dumping I think two bottles of it down my front side, my back side, and on my head after taking my helmet off.  They helped me off my bike and walked me over - supporting me b/c I could barely move on my own - to where I could sit under the shade of a tent.  Then they brought me a bannana and more water to drink.  I thought my day was done.  Even if the worms crawling under the skin of my legs stopped squirming I wasn't sure it was wise to carry on.

They announced the bus was there to take people back but I wasn't even ready to move for that.  I sat next to a girl trying to wait out her spell of nausea, watched a paramedic respond to others, and contemplated whether it was worth making it to the next tent / timing mat (mile 90).  Just then my BTA burped open and the contents (my nutrition!) were pouring out since my bike was laid on its side.  I leaped up to reposition the lid and realized if I could move that fast without my legs seizing up that I may as well carry on.  I made it around the timing mat at 90 and stopped again at the "mile 80" aid station to restock on water and body ice, and then finished the bike leg in 8 h 5 min (moving time was 7 h 41 min, elevation gain 5174').

While closing out the bike segment, my plan for T2 was to transition to run shoes and leave the course for a short- to race-ending soak in the lake.  But Ed was there cheering me on, saying I had plenty of time to get the run in, the shade of transition actually was rejuvenating, and the early part of the run course was lined with fences & banners making it impossible to access the lake.  Whatever.  Guess I'm doing this then.  T2: 6:14, included reapplication of sunscreen and all the shuffle speed I dared to muster.

The run course is 3 loops around McEuen park, plus an out & back through adjacent neighborhood and down the Centennial Trail along the lake's eastern side (similar to bike course).  And thankfully due to the time of day, there was some shade. I was using my run / walk plan of 2 min jogging / 45 sec of walking.  The aid stations had plenty of ice & water, and there were sprinklers set up all over the place along with people willing to hose you down if you liked.  At first I was skirting these, hoping to keep my feet from getting very wet, but it was inevitable anyway since I was rolling with my usual strategy of keeping ice chips in my bra.  It was hot but overall I was really floored to be feeling as good as I did. 

My watch died shortly into lap 2 and my pace slipped.  My guts also started to feel a bit unsettled so I stopped at a port-o-john.  Closing out that lap, Ed asked if I wanted to know what my projected finishing time was.  I thought he said 16:57 and that I might want to quicken the pace a little.  At the time, I'd rather have quit with terrible leg cramps at bike mile 80 than to have pressed on to earn a technical DNF with a >17 h finishing time, so I gave it what I had.  I credit the setting sun (8:50 pm, I think) and the potty stop (aka confidence that I wouldn't poop myself) for being able to pull out some additional speed.  Run split: 6 h 28 min.

Honestly, the finish line didn't strike me as being that remarkable.  Maybe it would have been if temps were lower, as I'm guessing many spectators were pretty fried come this late in the day.  Or maybe I've done too many of these races (this was 140.6 finish #8).  I had wanted to join the crowd that welcomed the final finishers, but I didn't have it in me.  My priorities were to find Ed, get out of my fully saturated clothing & shoes (= deck change in transition), and to eat some real food.  Thank you CDA for the brauts and quinoa salad.  Yum!

(Final time, 16 h 25 min)

The good:

• I was actually *never* uncomfortable on my bike saddle.  Even pushing stupidly low wattage & therefore sitting a bit heavier, no issues at all.  An absolutely unheard of & frankly unimagined outcome for me.
• My neck was less sore on the 2nd bike lap.  Or maybe I just forgot about it while my legs were cramping and my brain felt near boiling.
  
• Despite the heat, despite the lower training volume, I felt pretty ok at the finish line.  Definitely better than I did at Lake Placid where I was 11 years younger, 5 lbs heavier, w/ finish time 16:36.
• I completed a marathon post hip surgery and don't feel like I've destroyed myself !
• Back in our room with a good look at my urine color: very light.  Actually more light than in everyday life. 

The less good:

• 
  My left foot is bruised, badly blistered, and I'm certain to lose my big toenail.  Note to self, these are not marathon-worthy orthotics.
• I hope it wears off but I feel like I've spent a year's worth of points from my "sun exposure tolerability" card in a single day.

The indifferent:

• The scale says I lost 6 lbs.  I don't know if that's good or bad since I've never captured my post race weight before.

Notes about CDA as a venue:

• 
  This is a great location for a race.  Reasonably-accessible by airport (fly into Spokane, then 45 min drive).
• Plenty of places to get in shake out rides, either on or away from the course.
• Fantastic swim venue, right up there with Lake Placid for accessibility (free public beach).  Clear water, can see the bottom for much of the swim, & much shorter run to transition than LP, Tremblant, & Wisconsin.
• Family friendly hub location.  Not just the lake, but other parks (yeah, plural) all right there - grassy parks, swing-set & water spout park, dog park, skateboard park, hiking trails, surrounded by several restaurants.  Also the adjacent roads still allow some ability to get around so you don't have to be pinned down there all day if you don't want to be. (Contrast w/ Placid & Mt Tremblant, both really hard to get around on race day.)
• 3 loop run (& pretty flat, too) means loads of fan & race support on the run.  Even as a late finisher, the far end of the course didn't feel lonely.  (Contrast: Lake Placid, Boulder.)
• Fantastic, friendly race support, from both official and unofficial race volunteers.
• Nice rolling bike course, reportedly subject to shifting wind conditions but instead I got HEAT.  Good road quality, and ample space for 2000 racers.  Another 1000+ though may have made it seem crowded and as it was, there were some accidents.  One involved a truck w/ trailer that pulled through ahead of an approaching cyclist, who was hit.  A remarkable shame and unfortunate reminder that pricey race fee or not, we all need to keep our heads on swivels around intersections in case someone makes a bad decision.  There's also a long-seeming (~1 mi?) no passing zone  - these always bring about some duche-baggery - and sure enough a rider was taken down by some A-hole clipping her handlebars while illegally passing (on her right !!).  

Here are some race stats (taken from sportsstats.ca):  

The Kona slot allocation graphic I saw in the FB group showed DNS/DNF rates of 31% & 27% across F / M participants, respectively.  The DNF rate for my age group was 40%!  

Ironman only reports placements relative to finishers, which drastically under-represents
the tough conditions on the day.

Perhaps this is my "why"

Ironman has this triathlon community engagement campaign that has many people sharing their "Why" for maintaining the decipline it takes to commit to training for recreational racing.  I didn't really think I had one, or at least not a deeply personal one that anyone else might find motivating if shared.

I'd signed up for IM Saint George (planned race date in May 2020) ahead of racing SOS (meaning even though I was having trouble running) out of shear enthusiasm for getting to take a shot at its beautiful and hilly bike course.  But after SOS my motivation for training was pretty low, and once race postponnements were announce due to Covid, I took the opportunity to punt to Couer D'Alene 2021.

With no need to train and everyone in lockdown due to the pandemic, I poured my efforts and anxieties into working on the house (some painting in nearly every room) and drinking too much.  And that's how I acquired my "freshman 15", or covid 20, if you will.

I let my coaching contract expire without a word.  I'm not terribly proud of that.  There were more than a few communication issues between us that I didn't have the guts to raise.  And I'd long-pondered whether his coaching style was the right match for my abilities (loss of ground since I had surgery) and my personality (prone to feeling like a failure when I repeatedly miss a projected time despite the work ethic, my once-present focus, and his constant enthusiasm).

And so I was in a rough spot heading into 2021.  Heavy, all prior fitness blown, living as a recluse, anxious about inconsistent mandates & social expectations for wearing a mask when outside the house and around other people.  I also felt silly thinking about hiring a new coach against both that backdrop and uncertainty the June race would be a go - vaccinations were not yet widely available, communities may not grant the pemits, travel restrictions, etc.

But the 20 week mark was fast approaching so after some discussion I hired a friend to coach me.  Focus was on how things felt versus trying to hit any particular pace.  I swam almost exclusively with a snorkel with aim of removing all panic about breathing and instead allowing room for me to focus on form.  How to pull without making my shoulder, neck, & elbow hurt.  How I could improve engagement of lats, glutes & core.  I ran with walk intervals that started as the longer segment (R 1 min, W 2 min).  I worked to flip this and then shortened the walk a bit (to R 2 min, W 45 sec).  Walking is slow but provides a nice stretch for my hip flexors, which are insanely tight.  Working from home at my non-standing desk & evenings on the couch watching tv have not done me any favors in this department.

And there it is.  Add several missed trainings for whatever reasons, a touch of lonliness that none of my friends are racing this one too, a major side dish of self-doubt, and smother it all in projected race day temps in the 90-100 degree range...  I'm destined to be riding the struggle bus for this one.  Yet (as I write this in flight to Spokane) I'm still looking forward to racing and it took until yesterday to understand why.

Because this is how I live out loud, instead of just in my head.

Even if I don't finish this race, I'll have dared to toe the line.  And this is infinitely better than hiding in my house, watching the world go by from a pixillated screen.

What's So Bad About "Fast and Flat" Courses?

Preamble.  I penned this a couple of years ago but lacked the courage to publish it.  Since then, Saint George was brought back (limited edition basis) so maybe this post has no place.  Whatever.  Gotta dust off this blog somehow.  Original content continues below.

I know I have a reputation for not respecting flat courses and worse, not respecting the athletes that prefer them.  However, this isn't really accurate.  And since I've done a bad job of conveying it verbally, I'm going to try to make sense of it here.

I came to triathlon in a very happen stance way.  Didn't know much about it and never really gave it any thought prior to biking with a new acquaintance in Austin, who one day asked if I did them upon hearing I was also a runner.  I took it as a challenge to learn to swim, and after working up to one mile in a pool I felt I had a suitable level of proficiency to complete a sprint tri, which had an 800 m swim.  I was both correct and under informed.  Swimming in open water, in a disorganized mass of thrashing bodies & without ability to touch the ground or grab a lane line, is actually nothing like swimming in a pool.  It's far more difficult and is an activity that frankly warrants respect.  There's also more to completing a triathlon than the stringing together of 3 sports that I could do on an individual basis.  Being overwhelmed and out of breath coming out of the swim makes running to transition to grab your bike tough.  Running after biking hard is another transition that one should practice.  Those things said, triathlon is survivable on good fitness but incomplete preparation if one correctly positions their expectations.

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

I love the positivity conveyed by these words, but I don't take them lightly.  Maybe because I'm missing that innate-seeming, blissful confidence that I assume comes from a youth of feeling well-loved, my approach to the things I undertake often involves a great desire to be well-enough prepared as to assure non-failure.  Maybe I'm wrong, but I get the impression from social media that some approach triathlon differently. Some people toe the starting line unsure they'll meet the swim cut-off.  Some people rely on equipment that may not or even will not be allowed on race day.  Not just wetsuits, but cell phones and headphones as well.  And so weird to me, they don't seem to care - somehow appearing to not give a damn that the rules are meant to apply to them as well.

The combination of this inspriring tag line and the expansion of allowed registration numbers has resulted in crowded courses.  And they seem to be crowded with people who appear to be more interested in the swag with name brand recognition than in the process.  Too many convey a lack of respect for the rules because they "aren't there to win anyway". 

FLAT DOES NOT EQUAL EASY

It's simple human nature to take the easier path.  Sure, lots of individuals choose the path less trodden, the one that looks more challenging.  But how many folks do you see waiting around to cram into an elevator relative to those who eagerly take the stairs?  Understand, this is not a judgement - it's a simple fact that most people, when presented with multiple options, will choose the one they deem easier.  And to most people, that's the straight walk into the elevator vs taking the stairs.  There's nothing wrong with this.

Whether the course is flat or hilly, racing is hard work.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise and please don't miscredit me as thinking differently.  I also understand there are different definitions of racing other than aiming to win, including the challenge of hitting a specific personal goal that may not even be time based.  I've done countless events racing nothing more than the monkey on my back, who chases me whether or not the course has hills.  But for a moment, can we get back to the people who like the experience provided by elevation gain?

FLAT AND FAST

It's pretty common for new comers to look for an easy way to belong.  Read any triathlon-specific Facebook group and you will find someone asking, "what's the easiest..." half ironman, full ironman, swim course, etc.  Again, there's nothing wrong with this.  But while race directors continually describe their courses as Flat and Fast, and racers continually cram those courses, the events that can't claim this are suffering from lower and lower enrollment and cancellations, leaving no choices for those who enjoy beautiful courses with hilly topology.  This phrase is destroying choice, and it rubs me wrong.  The effects are far reaching. 

For some of us there's a sweet spot for registration numbers - enough that the course doesn't seem lonely, but low enough to not be crowded.  Hillier & non-brand events can't compete because so many people are drunk on F&F and brand recognition that the smaller race can't get the registration numbers to stay afloat.   Opportunity to truly race for time against a decently sized field is now restricted to huge and highly expensive events.  Sure, if your focus is a world championship slot, you have no choice but to race WTC events.  But if your goal is to challenge yourself among a mid-sized AG group of 15-20 participants, the choices are slim. 

I also think this phrase is negatively impacting those who like flat courses, who can't get a fair go of it because the crowding limits opportinity to race clean vs having to compete against cheating drafters or around people biking with positional disregard for those that would pass them.  This crowding brings loads of bad attitude as well, with some people putting down the efforts of those working to hone their craft; I'm referring here to the negative commentary directed at athletes who try moving bike mount/dismunt techniques.  I don't understand this mean-ness.

Anyway, if you genuinely like racing un-hilly courses, good on you.  Just, understand that when I hear 'Flat and Fast' I cringe and feel a bit of anger that your choice is working to deny me of mine.