Race Report - Survival of the Shawanagunks, Sep 2019

Let me apologize up front for the length of this report.  I'd like to be succinct, but I can't seem to convey the experience in fewer than 4000 words.  

Albert F. Smiley Memorial

S. O. S.  

Survival of the Shawangunks

Some background:

• This September race has been run since 1983 and is consistently ranked among the best adventure triathlons in the world.  
• Registration opens on October 31st at midnight eastern standard time, and it sells out in minutes.
• Registration numbers are kept below 200 participants.  
• (Yes, two hundred.)
• The course starts at the Ulster County Fairgrounds, circles the northern ridge of the Shawangunk Mountain Range and runs through Minnewaska State Park, finishing on the resort property of the Mohonk Mountain House (outside New Paltz, NY).

S.O.S. is an 8-stage triathlon that starts with the bike (30 miles) and is followed by alternating segments of run (totaling 19 miles) and swim (totaling 2.1 miles).  The course has approx 3600 ft of cumulative elevation gain.  It's a point-to-point race and therefore does not have a traditional transition area.  Racers are required to have their own support crew-person, who is responsible for bringing the racers' run & swim gear to T1 and taking their bike from them (*except for 2019, more on that later).  Individual support also drops the racer off at race start and picks them up at race end.  But there are 6 or so opportunities for event-supplied aid on course, so while the racer must carry their swim gear while running and run gear while swimming, they don't have to bring their own fuel & fluids.

Bike

The Ulster County Fairgrounds had ample parking and potties for a race start.  Not much to do here since transition items were pre-packed into a bag for drop off; all I needed to do was get my chip and body marking, and set up my bike.  Beginning an event on the bike was neat.  I was less stressed about breakfast since I wasn't swimming first, and I got to start out dry and warm.  Morning temp was in the upper 50's, with predicted high of 75.  I wore my 1-piece kit with arm & leg warmers plus a vest and aero shoe covers.  We started in waves 1 min apart; mine was 5th of 8. 

The first 24 miles of the bike course are easy, particularly when compared to the American Zofingen bike route.  The last 5 miles climb 1100 ft.  That was where I went from picking off a number of riders to being caught by them.  The course was open to traffic but given the short route and that we got on the road so early (7 am race start), there weren't many cars.   

• My bike Garmin (920) logged elevation gain at 1837 ft. Link to route on Strava.  
• Official split 1:48:48, 8/10 AG, 28/49 G, 112/177 OA.
• Avg pace 16.5 mph.   

Run 1

Usually your crew person would take your bike from you.  But due to parking restrictions for construction at the Lower Awosting parking lot, the race provided bike transport from T1 to the Mountain House property.  Meaning a volunteer took your bike.  I thought they were using bike racks but this picture suggests otherwise.

Behind this happy racer you can see what T1 looked like: a couple of rows of clear plastic bags.  Again due to the unusual parking restrictions, race organizers provided zipping comforter bags which gave more than enough room for all gear and great confidence nothing would get lost in transit.  Some folks took their things to the picnic table, others used rocks, I stood on the zipping flap of my bag and if you look over the runner's left shoulder, you might see me.

I ditched the vest, arm and leg warmers, pulled on a loose pair of cycling shorts, added a visor, and head off with my swim cap and goggles shoved into my sports bra and a 414 mL Nathan hand held water bottle in hand.  Lots of thought went into these choices.  

• Quickest to describe, I'm used to sipping water every mile or 10 min and the aid stations were not that close together.  This bottle is light and flexible, and gets smaller with use, so keeps sloshing to a minimum.
• When I got to the swim, the visor and bottle would replace my cap and goggles in my bra.
• My shoes are Solomon Switchback ISO trail shoes.  They have Boa's, which I thought would make for quick and easy adjustments as I put my shoes on and off through the event. 
• Plan was to shove my shoes into the back of my black cycling shorts during the swim.  Back of the hamstrings, heals toward my butt.
• The blue 1 piece kit underneath would keep gravel from ending up against my skin and is snugger for swimming.  Even if the items shoved in my bra shifted, they shouldn't be lost.
• I wore socks since blister prevention was a big concern.  Underneath, my feet were taped with KT Blister Preventing tape, which I can't say enough good things about (seriously, go buy it - do it now!).  Finally, I've got chips on each ankle: one for timing,  the other for tracking (or so they said).

And so I head out on the 1st run, 4.4 miles to Lake Awosting.  This started on a wide carriage road that seemed continuously up hill, and several runners passed me.  My hip flexors were tight coming off the bike and running uphill felt pretty uncomfortable.  I'd also tweaked one glute in a track workout the preceding week.  I won't go on about my training other than to say, pacing for survival was the only realistic goal.  

The first aid station was at the northeast edge of the water.  Participants turn at this fork to run counter clockwise to the far end of Lake Awosting.  This part of the trail is narrower and the surface less even, but it was an easier grade for me to run.  I made gains on a few runners through here, meeting them at transition 2.  The loose bike shorts made it simple to place my shoes as planned.  I stepped over the timing mat, descended down the rocks to a big flat one, and jumped the 2-3 feet down into the 1st swim.  

• My wrist Garmin (735) logged 1014 ft of gain for R1, which is twice what Strava shows for the route.  
• Official split 55:48 includes B to R and R to S transitions, 9/10 AG, 38/49 G, 136/177 OA.
• Avg pace 12:41/mi.  

Swim 1 (Awosting)

According to the race site's FAQ, water temps most years run 69-71 deg.  Some people wear full or short wetsuits for this event, but based on my early OWS experiences at Barton Springs (Austin, TX) with water temps commonly in the upper 60's, and my disinterest in running this whole race carrying or partially wearing a wetsuit, my game plan was to Suck It Up.  Then this water temp photo was posted days ahead of the event (I think it reads 66 F).  Combined with an understanding that many people cramp in this swim, and the unfortunate fact that I cramp terribly when combining biking or running with swimming and had just a week before been writhing on the side of the pool from this, I had concerns...

The Awosting swim has few course markings.  We were to turn right around the buoy shown and then swim along the lake which was monitored above the surface by kayaks and below by divers.  Eventually we'd see a white spec that would grow into a granite rock face.  Once around that we'd eventually spot the only other buoy, which marked the exit.

I contacted the water in the shape of a ball because I didn't know how deep it was and touching the bottom of things I can't see freaks me out.  It was cold, but not horribly so.  Though I quickly felt I'd made a tactical mistake with my looser over-shorts and was worried about losing my shoes.  Oh well, too late now.  I settled in for what I anticipated being a 40-ish min swim.  Unfortunately I was wrong.

• Despite the lack of buoys on this course, the stream of other swimmers, many dragging flotation bags behind them to keep their shoes dry, provided a trajectory to follow.
• The increase in number of swimmers perked me up as I thought I was gaining on people.
• But I was distracted by fear of losing my shoes.  Aiming to prevent this, I barely kicked.  I tried to settle in and minimize the number of times I reached to check they were not falling out.
• The increasing tension in my hips, hamstrings, and calves brought concern of cramping to the front of my mind.
• The white spec came into view.  The swimmers thinned, then more appeared, then they thinned again and when the spec failed to grow larger, I realized I was making poor forward progress.
• Cramping ensued.  I scanned the shoreline to judge how hard it would be to reach if things got bad.  A diver was sitting there, watching.  Aware that I was in the water too long and getting colder, I rolled onto my back for a deep breath to rally for buckling down to get it done.  This did not ease the cramps.
• Finally coming to the shore, I scoped the ground for a good spot to stand and walk out.  But there wasn't one - the floor was covered with overlaid sticks like I was on top of a submerged beaver dam.  Rising to stand on this in my socks, my mind was unable to connect how to walk over this surface with legs cramped from hip to ankle.  I stood there momentarily paralyzed, shivering fiercely as the wind hit me and a volunteer gestured for me to come.

This is Awosting swimout; the blue patch is the timing mat, 

which I crossed like an epileptic tinman.  

• Nominally 1.1 miles but my Garmin logged 1.7. 
• Official split of 53:05 was damn near last: 10/10 AG, 48/49 G, 173/177 OA.
• Avg pace 2:45/100 yd.  

Run 2 

These nice ladies wrapped me in a mylar blanket and guided me to sit.  One put my shoes on for me, one added a wool blanket and rubbed my back and head, trying to warm me up, and the other got me a cup of hot tea.  I managed a couple of sips but spilled the rest all over myself as I couldn't stop shaking.  I tried to help with putting my shoes on but did not have the motor control.  My jaw ached from my teeth chattering, and I wanted to get moving in order to generate more body heat.  I stood and started to take the mylar off...

• They told me I could keep it.
• But I wasn't sure I wanted to carry it with me for the rest of the race.
• They said I could just drop it off along the course.
• <Enter the sound of a record being scratched as my mind tripped over this non-sequitor.>  "I can't discard it along the course; that would be littering..." and completely dishonorable in a beautiful setting like this.
• Never-the-less, as it fell below my shoulders I understood I could not take it off since I was far too cold and at least it was keeping the wind from hitting my wet torso.  
• I asked if they could tie it into a cape; they tied the bottom too.  I balled my fists around the edges in between and clutched them together aiming to keep the wind from coming through the front gap, held my arms tightly to my ribs to conserve heat, and hobbled off as stiff as could be.  

At this point I was not entirely confident I'd complete the next 5.8 mile segment to Lake Minnewaska, and I was even less sure I was going to be able to will myself into it once I got there.

This is Lake Awosting on a warm July day,
taken when I wasn't flirting with hypthermia.

This faster and warmer participant was photographed on the single track leading away from the lake.  This trail joins up with the wider carriage one, and soon I was back at the aid table where I was offered salt tabs which “would warm me up”.  Trust me - I have a fondness for salt tabs and due to my propensity for cramping, and had already taken some on my approach to swim 1.  But I have never known them to make me feel warmer.  I declined with a skeptical glance, but thanked him and made the right to continue clockwise around the lake.

Now the anxious and timid side of my personality that my more brazen one tries to keep confined to a back corner of my mind, was really unhappy.  In addition to my sore jaw, I’d developed enough tension around my throat and neck that if I did manage to find my running legs - I was concerned I’d choke myself out.  Just over a mile into this and while still trying to un-clench, I came upon the last two participants to pass me out of the swim.  One of them was Anthony, another American Zofingen regular, who was working to beat his own DNF demon from last year.  Running with them picked my spirits up but the conversation was tough because I was being deafened by the very loud rustling of mylar near my ears.  I joked that while I may be slow, at least I was surely scaring away all the bears.  After a bit I pulled away, beginning to feel more like myself and able to pick up the pace.

Alas, there are no photos of me doing The Mylar Shuffle. 

Though I wasn’t the only one.

The next aid station was at the top of Castle Point and my first question upon arrival was, "Do you have a knife?"  Their careful eyeing of me as they asked why was somewhat comical, and I explained I wanted to cut a hole in the mylar so I could wear it like a poncho, which would work better for running.  We got it done with a pair of scissors and with their help I was able to get the mylar poncho on while the wind tried to rip it away.

Another view around Castle Point, taken in July.

The remaining mileage to Lake Minnie was uneventful.  I’d concluded I’d keep the poncho, folding it up to put inside the front of my kit for the swim, because while I was finally no longer freezing, I never made it to warm.  I also decided I’d keep my shoes on for the rest of the event and take my outer shorts off and stow them in my kit, versus leaving them in place to act as a drag suit. 

On arrival the volunteer was interested in taking my mylar, reassuring me I could get a new one on the other side of the lake.  I was instantly unhappy to let it go; it was customized and had become my security blanket.  And I was once again cold without it.  I hesitated while wondering oh man, am I really doing this?  At this point the bully inside scoffed, Well are you just going to stand here and whine, or get on with it?  With trepidation, I stepped across the timing mat and into the water.  

• My Garmin logged 1280 ft gain for this segment, waaaay over the 395 shown for the Strava route.
• Official time for R2 and the shivering on each side of it, 1:12:09, 10/10 AG, 45/49 G, 155/173.
• Avg pace 12:26/mi. 

Swim 2 (Minnewaska)

Lake Minnewaska from the southern end.  Has a 200 yd line of buoys that members of the MDSA can swim along from mid-June - Sep 6th.  On race day they extend rope the full length of the lake.  Easy in and out are additional differences from Awosting.  Temperature was posted as 72 F 5 days ahead of the race, but I didn't find it any warmer than Swim 1. 

I zig-zagged terribly through this swim and was really discouraged I was unable to stop it, getting madder every time I hit the rope that should have made following the course stupid simple.  They didn't have any mylar sheets available when I got out, and I was too grumpy and impatient to wait for one to be dug up.  

• My Garmin captured 0.95 mi for this 1/2 mile swim.  
• Official split of 25:04 was 9/10 AG, 43/49 G, 153/173 OA. 
• Avg pace 2:51/100 yd. 

Run 3

I was cold, staring at an 8 mile run, and all I wanted to do was find a place in the sun and out of the breeze to lie down and warm up.  At the top of the stone staircase leading away from the lake I scanned for places in the parking lot I crossed and the steep roadway I slogged down, trying to determine where I could lie on the sun-warmed macadam without being driven over.  I came to the end of my no-good options when I turned onto the shaded Awosting Falls Carriageway.

I was actually looking forward to this portion of the course, which I hadn't seen before.  It's as pretty as I thought it would be and I found it funny to realize it's just a few feet away from the roadway I've driven and biked so many times, but I never knew it was here.  As I ran and became less cold my thoughts transitioned from mild to increasing concern that my friends hadn't turned up yet.  I scanned the faces of all cyclists approaching me, but each time they rolled by I wondered what had become of Jill and Ashley.  I also reflected upon my low training dedication and the various reasons for it while trying to compartmentalize the growing discomfort in both knees and how generally banged up I was feeling. 

This and the picture above are the Awosting Falls, about 0.5 mi into this run segment.  The next two aid stations were at miles 2 (Lyons Rd) and 4 (Trapps Bridge).  I grabbed 3-4 chews at each of these and topped off my hand held with Gator/Poweraide at one and ate more salt at the other.

Undercliff Carriage Trail.  It was just about here that Ashley found me and I declared, I am never doing this again!  As we ran together I pulled my head out of my ass enough to make sure Jill was ok and ask about all our teammates who were racing in Nice, Lake Placid, and Madison, as well as her race earlier that morning.  Then I asked her to go on ahead because I didn't want to break the no pacing rule even though I was practically last and the thought of my gaining an advantage from being paced to a 12 min mile was absurd.  One more aid station followed by 2 more miles which included the climb up "Godzilla", I finally made it to the path that runs behind Mohonk Lake.  

• My Garmin logged 2080 ft gain for this segment, again about 3x that shown for the Strava route (600 ft).
• Official split of 1:42:42 was 9/10 AG, 43/49 G, 156/173 OA.
• Avg pace 12:50/mi.

Swim 3 (Mohonk)

The upper row of the wooden railing had been removed to provide access, 
but I swung under the lower one and rode the dirt slide down to the water.

Thankfully, Mohonk was warmer.  This, the kind lie from Ashley (You look great!), and the end now being metaphorically in sight combined to improve my mood.  My swimming felt better too; each time I sighted I seemed to be holding a reasonable trajectory and making progress.  Or at least, that was the case until I reached the last buoy.

At the other end of the lake, this shows the last buoy
from the point of view of spectators looking
head on to would-be in-bound swimmers.
Note the pier at swimmers' left.

Here is swim out from the vantage of the end of the pier.  Now imagine it as a swimmer with your eyes just inches above the waters' surface. 

As I closed in on the last buoy I had at least 3 problems.  1) When I get really tired - I mean physically, mentally end of my rope tired - I lose the ability to think my way out of a paper bag.  2) As a newcomer, it isn't at all obvious how to get out.  3) I didn't want to find myself like a mouse or frog that had fallen into a swimming pool, clawing at the periphery and blinded by panic while hoping to not drown.  Now, there were signs on the rock that read "Climb out here", but I couldn't really see them through my goggles or compute how I was supposed to magically arise out of water to climb up a #*$%ing rock.  (The potty mouth also comes on super strong when I'm tired and confused or frustrated.)

A taller competitor pictured last year makes this look like no big deal.  Sure, it's a big step with the rock up to his knee, but contrast it with the picture of me below.  That rock is what, at mid-thigh?

As I stood here, completely unable to conceive how I could lift my leg onto that rock without going into a full body-seizing cramp and falling backwards into the water, another swimmer came up so I stepped aside to let her through.  Eventually I turned around, used my hands to hop my butt up backwards onto the rock, laid down and rolled over onto my stomach, and then walked my hands in while pivoting my hips up, and finally unfolded to a stand.  At the time, this felt like high level calculus.

This photo captured the last moments of the tantrum my pissed-off inner child was having, for she seriously wanted this experience to end.  Upon clearing the mat and getting my cap and goggles stowed my feisty side finally showed up saying, Hey! You just gave that other girl your puck and she's running away with it!.*  At which point I decided Oh, Hell no! - and I chased her down.

• * This makes sense if you remember I played ice hockey for 20 years.
• My Garmin logged 1.72 mi of nonsense, presumably having issues with the surrounding cliffs.
• Official split of 20:20 was 9/10 AG, 43/49 G, 145/173 OA.
• Avg pace 2:19/100 yd. 

Run 5

This is the last photo of me, and I'm thankful for having it.  I think it reflects the Never Say Die! determination that I try to bring to things I've started.

None of the course is closed (except the swims), but I only noted traffic on this segment. Folks tend to offer congratulations as you lumber along.

The path continues to climb along the cliffs above the lake.  If you ever make it out here, the resort makes fantastic use of the topology, with trails, ramps, and stairs to many cool nooks and summerhouses (covered benches positioned with great views) such as the one in the corner of this shot, and the one below found on the large rock in Mohonk lake.

The final element en route to the finish, after ascending the all-uphill trail, is this staircase.

Survival

I got a high-5 on my final approach to the Survivor Line and - at risk of personal harm - dared to excute a cartwheel over it.  I guess I don't really need another picture of that ending.  But for a race this challenging and so well-regarded, I'm a bit disappointed the event photographers don't await the slower finishers.  Thankfully I had my sherpas Jill and Ashley both for support and photos past T1.

• My Garmin showed 249 ft gain, closely matching Strava.
• Official time for this segment was 6:38 and 1/10 AG, 9/49 G, 54/173 OA.
• Avg pace 16:35/mi. 
• Final time & placement: 7:24:30, 9/10 AG (bumped to 8/9), 44/49 G, 156/173 OA.  There were 4 M DNF's.

One of the views from the front / tower side of Sky Top.

Reflections

When Heather first told me about S.O.S. some 7 years ago my response was a firm No thank you - not my cup of tea.  And I absolutely would have DNF'd it back then.  However the truth is, this race is exactly what I like: 

• Beautiful. 
• Organic in its use of terrain. 
• One that kicks your ass and demands respect, while giving you that tranquil space to be alone with your thoughts. 

Before taking another run at this I'll need to work on swimming in a straight line and how to stay warmer in cold water.  This year's oldest female participant, representing the 70+ age group -- yeah, you read that right -- beat me by 26 minutes.  I sure hope I can be that level of badass one day.

 Until next time, Mohonk.  Until next time...

(Back atcha, Tsunami.)

Garmin Notes

1) Multisport mode on the 735 will only accomodate up to 5 legs with transitions.  I was never going to be looking at the watch in the swim so set mine up as 5 runs and used the transition to record the swim segments.  I have no other experience doing this but assume two things based on my normal usage: the 735 would have recoded the swim distances more accurately if the watch was in open water swim mode; the watch still would have recorded longer distance b/c I do not hold a straight line well.

2) Different devices use different means for determining elevation gain, and this is also affected by which version of firmware is in use.  Elevation recordings always vary, sometimes widely.  If you need confirmation, troll GarminConnect for bike data from any 140.6 race that isn't regarded as flat.

3) My 520 doesn't have the battery life to reliably record a 2 h ride, so my race bike is set up with my 920 because I'm protesting buying another damn device.  The 920 wasn't used for the whole event beacuse: the fit is very tight between my aero extensions and therefore not easy to pull off at race speed; I don't want to use it with the quick release band; it also would only record 5 legs with transitions.

4) Recording the runs as transitions was considered and dismissed b/c this doesn't allow any useful metrics (e.g. pace or auto lap) to be accessed during use.

5) Another option, of wearing two different devices in which one captured the first part of the race and the second one the latter half, was not considered - I'm only type A to A-minus, not type A+++.