On paper,
this race looks like a beast:1
5
mi trail run gaining 800 ft in elevation84 mi bike gaining 9000 ft
15 mi trail run gaining 2400 ft
= 104 miles, >12,000 ft,
… but, I don't know. Was completing it really the hardest thing I’ve done? By
the time I got home, I already didn’t believe my own Facebook declaration.
Background
This was my
A-race for the year and I had a time goal.
That goal was based on times I’ve hit in prior trips to this race site
plus knowledge of how this course breaks people down. However my confidence to hit my desired paces
was not bolstered by my recent scouting trip, where I biked the planned 55 mi but barely jogged an uncomfortable 5 mi of the run course afterward. While I did remember how much better I did in
my middle-distance race here last year relative to last year’s scouting trip, I
also then had a couple of earlier encouraging race results that showed me I was
getting stronger. Those kinds of results were mostly absent this
year: minor 3 min improvement in an impromptu half marathon run in January (the Naples race was
cancelled due to weather), no improvement in the Tyler arboretum run, no Broad St
run at all. Unfortunately I’m simply not
good about carrying faith without tangible evidence of my progress, and the disconnection from my coaches and training
group since I'd quit swimming and yoga contributed to my feeling a bit unsure how this race would turn out.
Leading up to the race
Historically
speaking, the weather here on race day can be completely unlike what is
predicted and I planned accordingly. I
had leg warmers and both light weight and heavier weight full length tights. I had a sleeveless jersey and bolero, a
sleeved jersey with arm warmers, and also a long-sleeved fuzzy-lined jersey. I had my light weight running jacket and both
my light weight convertible-to-vest and wind-stopping cycling jackets. I had full fingered gloves and toe covers, a
skull cap, lighter weight ear bands and regular cycling gloves. Expecting my shoes to get sucked off my feet
from a muddy and soggy run course (due to rain leading up to race day), I packed 3 pairs of socks. Sunglasses, clear plastic glasses,
visor. I also fitted my TT bike with the
mount for my headlight and brought along two blinking tail lights. Mentally, I had prepared myself for 45-50
degrees and rain, figuring any other conditions would be better. I was however, all in with the 404/808 combo
and decided to leave the stock wheels at home.
I had also
been trying to talk myself up for days.
-
Remember how you rode harder than
you thought you could at B2B and you still executed a really nice run?- Remember the Philly Marathon, where you held your foot on the gas through increasing discomfort and lived to tell about it?
- Trust your training!
This included some result stalking (freely available on her blog) for a competitor I expected to be there, who has won this event on more than one occasion. I’ve actually posted very similar results at a couple of prior races (though we did them in different years) and should not count myself out of the competition just because I haven’t been feeling very confident this year.
Race plan from coach
Confession:
I have a hard time holding run race paces from my coach and have rarely executed them as written.
That doesn’t mean my results aren’t any good but it does leave me in a
weird place. Conversations with other
athletes have led me to believe paces reflect a best possible race day scenario that doesn’t
necessarily have anything to do with factors such as hilliness or altitude, or recent race load (e.g. see Philly Marathon recap at end of this post). So what does that mean for me going in to an
extremely hilly course – plan to disregard his advice?
Previous
A-races have gotten a scheduled phone call with him and I don’t know why, but
this one didn’t. My race
plan arrived via email with a target wattage range for the bike but a general run plan of comfortable zone 2 for R1 and zone 1 for R2. Ooooh K... that run advice is a bit unusual but did sound do-able.
Race Day
I warmed up on the stationary trainer at the hotel for almost 10 min, then headed out. Arrived with just the right amount of time to take care of everything without rush and
boldly selected what I thought was the best rack spot possible (the end and closest to bike out/in), only to have
someone else rack leaning up on the side of the rack. No problem, I honestly
expected someone to get grouchy and move my bike all together. Moral -
my goal was to not automatically sell myself short; first come, first
served, and so far so good.
Weather was predicted to be partly cloudy, mid-to-upper 50's, with 15-20 mph winds from the west. I went with leg warmers, sleeved jersey plus arm warmers, ear band, regular cycling gloves, and added my run jacket to start out. I also had my 920 and
two heart rate monitors. Why? Because the chest strap cuts the hell out of
me when I run, but the Mio optical HRM has poor battery life and will never
last the whole race. Plan was to survive
the first run and the bike with the chest strap, take it off in T2, and then do
R2 with the Mio.
True to my expectations, Christine had registered. I'm missing the 2nd place mug from my collection so was content should I earn it this day (possibly too content), but was still sad the field wasn't larger. There were only 15 Long course starters, two of which were women.
True to my expectations, Christine had registered. I'm missing the 2nd place mug from my collection so was content should I earn it this day (possibly too content), but was still sad the field wasn't larger. There were only 15 Long course starters, two of which were women.
 |
| The small posse of Long Course starters (note 4). |
 |
| Early on in Run 1. |
Transition 1 Running jacket off, fuzzy long sleeved bike jersey on with the pockets pre-stuffed with nutrition (because it doesn’t
all fit in my bento). Swapped shoes, put helmet and glasses on, and I was off. T1 split – 1:34 (?/15, ultimately 4/13).
 |
| T1. Boy the sky sure changed appearance. Turns out that even with 700 c wheels, my bike still dangles from the transition rack. (You'll have to trust me, the front wheel was just kissing the grass.) |
Bike Wasn't sure how the move from 172.5 to 165 mm crank and compact to mid
compact chainrings was going to work out for me over the course of the day (ie stock gearing on the new bike), but I started the first climb feeling fine. The first decent though (going toward Butterville), was frightening. I tucked as I usually do but then experienced terrible shimmying. At first it felt like my front wheel was loose and then like the back was getting jarred too. Picture biking over a carpet while someone pulls the carpet sideways out from under you. And I wondered - Gah, was the 404 a mistake given the wind? Surely
not, I told myself, but as for this hill, forget aero - I'll take it sitting upright, thank you very much.
I was bolder on the other, less steep descents (west of Lake Minnewaska), having ridden them enough to believe I could handle them even with some wind. But holy crap, was I questioning my sanity at times. (Disclaimer, I do that every time I show up for this race, so maybe I have no common sense). I took the lane in more places than usual and really made use of the upper body strength training I've done the last several weeks to maintain my line despite being pushed around by the wind.2 Turning east toward Granite, it felt like I was flying (now with a tailwind) through the northern edge flats and I was unfamiliar with how speed would carry through those turns. I got more confident with each passing though, and my best Strava split through here was on lap 3.
As expected, I was passed by F1 riders on my 1st lap (7 of them) and again on lap 2 (by 2 of them), and also by the LC lead who had lapped me (sad face).3 I was surprised to see a female rider at the water stop by transition - had I really caught her? I expected to be chased down on my last trip up the Mohonk climb and when I wasn't I concluded this was some other woman and not the other female LC racer. Overall this was a lonely ride, with the Granite aid station abandoned on my 3rd passing, and I was very happy no 4th lap was needed.
On lap one I congratulated myself for dressing right - I feel great! (I thought). My plan was to eventually shed a layer at one of the water stops but instead I got colder on each lap, wishing I had chosen my fuzzy full length tights and full fingered gloves. Clouds rolled in and I was hoping it wouldn't rain - I later heard there was a brief snow squall at transition. I was happy to execute my rolling dismount after all that climbing, and to have made up some time vs my rough bike plan. B split – 6:24:30 (ultimately 12/13); laps as per Strava – 2:03:42, 2:07:18, 2:05:55; out from T1 3:30, in to T2 3:23.
 |
| The bike course, ~0.5 mi from transition on a cinder driveway to the main road, then clockwise loops of ~27 miles with both climbs and descents up to 13% in grade. This map is displayed following convention, with north up. |
I was bolder on the other, less steep descents (west of Lake Minnewaska), having ridden them enough to believe I could handle them even with some wind. But holy crap, was I questioning my sanity at times. (Disclaimer, I do that every time I show up for this race, so maybe I have no common sense). I took the lane in more places than usual and really made use of the upper body strength training I've done the last several weeks to maintain my line despite being pushed around by the wind.2 Turning east toward Granite, it felt like I was flying (now with a tailwind) through the northern edge flats and I was unfamiliar with how speed would carry through those turns. I got more confident with each passing though, and my best Strava split through here was on lap 3.
As expected, I was passed by F1 riders on my 1st lap (7 of them) and again on lap 2 (by 2 of them), and also by the LC lead who had lapped me (sad face).3 I was surprised to see a female rider at the water stop by transition - had I really caught her? I expected to be chased down on my last trip up the Mohonk climb and when I wasn't I concluded this was some other woman and not the other female LC racer. Overall this was a lonely ride, with the Granite aid station abandoned on my 3rd passing, and I was very happy no 4th lap was needed.
On lap one I congratulated myself for dressing right - I feel great! (I thought). My plan was to eventually shed a layer at one of the water stops but instead I got colder on each lap, wishing I had chosen my fuzzy full length tights and full fingered gloves. Clouds rolled in and I was hoping it wouldn't rain - I later heard there was a brief snow squall at transition. I was happy to execute my rolling dismount after all that climbing, and to have made up some time vs my rough bike plan. B split – 6:24:30 (ultimately 12/13); laps as per Strava – 2:03:42, 2:07:18, 2:05:55; out from T1 3:30, in to T2 3:23.
Transition 2 This is where I
realized I missed the lap button on my 920 and had just recorded a 6+ h
T1. Oops. Also my battery was dying, WTF? I get the shittiest life out of this
thing, having pulled it off the charger this morning and it's only been
on for 7 h? (Battery was also dying on the 520, but at least I got to save that data). Was told I was the first woman back, which confused me. No
way (I think), did she drop out? Better assume not. I lost the helmet and glasses, swapped shoes, ate a gel, left and doubled back to grab my run jacket to position it closer to run out in case I wanted to swap my outer layer sometime during the run. I headed out wondering how long before Christine catches me, and trying to pace myself
to leave enough to hang on when she does. T1 split – 1:32
(ultimately 3/13).
Run 2 I was
pleased to be well out of the gazebo before the first LC finisher came in. Nothing’s more demotivating than starting out on the run while others are finishing.
Legs felt ok, not peppy but not awful (yet, I told myself; not awful yet).
Given the varying terrain, this course is hard to pace. Instead of my usual 1 mi auto laps I was trying 5 mi auto laps hoping my lap pace would then give a better overview of how I was doing versus target. Unfortunately, I found my watch had died before I was 2 miles in. Ugh! And I had forgotten to take the chest strap off, which I did at this time. I decided I’d ditch the 920 and both HRMs at transition when I passed by, since it really irks me to be wearing useless devices.
But I wasn’t
there yet. I made the turn into the
first of my favorite parts of the course (Cedar Trail), the almost-level natural trail that leads to the
wooden plank crossing. Across the planks
and trudging up the 3rd and steepest of the run hills, I heard the blam blam blam of someone
crossing the planks behind me. Damn, she’s
caught me already? But it would be
another mile before I found it wasn’t a she but another competitor finishing up
their last lap. Running along with him
and his wife on the gravel carriage road for a bit, she told me I was doing great and asked if I realized only
2 women were doing this course.
Yup. But since I was trying to
stay focused on my race and not obsess about it, I didn’t ask where Christine
was.
My other favorite place on the run course is the single track behind the gazebo (Table Rocks Trail) – with some playful hills and fallen trees, it’s fun running through there. It’s also tough b/c this brings you really close to the finish line where through the trees you can see and hear the cheers for others finishing and the revelry of the ones already done, plus smell the food, however you are still almost a mile away from completing the lap.
Closing out my first lap I dropped the Garmin/HRMs and swapped out my fuzzy cycling top for my running jacket, and carried on looking for Jill so I could ask her to rescue my things, but didn’t find her. Passing through the gazebo (up some stairs, over a timing mat, and by the only clock on the course) I finally got feedback on my pacing, which didn't look good. More than 60 min had elapsed which meant I had chewed up the time I gained on the bike. The race director asked me: Are you still running? To the RD: Damn straight I am! To myself: NFW am I quitting and having another DNF hang over my head.
Nothing to say about lap 2 other than I wanted to open it up some, but didn’t think I could possibly do enough to capture my desired time and by now was convinced Christine had dropped. Lonely, no Garmin, and destined to be last – what was the point in burying myself? And then I remembered Jack’s advice to wait til lap 3. Passing by transition, I see my stuff is still in place (lying on the grass by run out). When I see Jill, I ask if she could pick my things up and feel good that I got to do that.
On the 3rd
lap I did pick it up. But at this stage
in the race, this pretty much means trying harder without actually going
faster. I felt mostly ok other than my
feet hurting from the rocky trail surface.
It was still windy and I was not exactly warm, but it wasn’t bad either. The run aid station was now abandoned, a lovely
sign that I was probably the only one still out here. Cruising through favorite trail part #1 I
tripped and planted my right knee hard into the ground, and missed a
rock with my face by 6 or so inches. Ah,
de ja vou. I did that at my first AmZof
race too, both times congratulating myself for still having my cycling
gloves on. I was also really stoked to
not actually be hurt and lying in the middle of the woods all by myself. On my last pass of the aid station I hoovered
2 slices of watermelon (LOVE watermelon) and egged myself on for a strong
finish. In my opinion, I finished too
strong, meaning I definitely left too much potential untapped. :-( R2 lap splits 1:01:07
(12/13, includes potty stop), 1:00:00 (11/13), 1:00:19 (9/13), for a total R2 – 3:01:26 (11/13).
Given the varying terrain, this course is hard to pace. Instead of my usual 1 mi auto laps I was trying 5 mi auto laps hoping my lap pace would then give a better overview of how I was doing versus target. Unfortunately, I found my watch had died before I was 2 miles in. Ugh! And I had forgotten to take the chest strap off, which I did at this time. I decided I’d ditch the 920 and both HRMs at transition when I passed by, since it really irks me to be wearing useless devices.
 |
| Run course, with up being Northwest?. Left/right lines are roughly flat trails, up/down lines are not. Course starts following the Red line heading to the left (as you're looking at the map), then around to the point 1, which is where the aid station is. Then you follow the Blue line headed to the right (clockwise) around to point 3 (aid station again), before switching to the green line heading left, then snaking back to transition. That's one ~5 mi lap. |
My other favorite place on the run course is the single track behind the gazebo (Table Rocks Trail) – with some playful hills and fallen trees, it’s fun running through there. It’s also tough b/c this brings you really close to the finish line where through the trees you can see and hear the cheers for others finishing and the revelry of the ones already done, plus smell the food, however you are still almost a mile away from completing the lap.
Closing out my first lap I dropped the Garmin/HRMs and swapped out my fuzzy cycling top for my running jacket, and carried on looking for Jill so I could ask her to rescue my things, but didn’t find her. Passing through the gazebo (up some stairs, over a timing mat, and by the only clock on the course) I finally got feedback on my pacing, which didn't look good. More than 60 min had elapsed which meant I had chewed up the time I gained on the bike. The race director asked me: Are you still running? To the RD: Damn straight I am! To myself: NFW am I quitting and having another DNF hang over my head.
Nothing to say about lap 2 other than I wanted to open it up some, but didn’t think I could possibly do enough to capture my desired time and by now was convinced Christine had dropped. Lonely, no Garmin, and destined to be last – what was the point in burying myself? And then I remembered Jack’s advice to wait til lap 3. Passing by transition, I see my stuff is still in place (lying on the grass by run out). When I see Jill, I ask if she could pick my things up and feel good that I got to do that.
In
the end I came in at 10:24:31 (13/13, 9 min after #12, 14 min after #11) to a nearly empty gazebo (usually
there’s a bunch of people hanging out enjoying the atmosphere at this race, but
I guess they got tired of being cold) and a degree of
disappointment: I didn't meet my time goal (broadly 10-10:15 but hopefully 10:05) and didn't even push myself (fully believed I could have eeked out a 4th run lap). I
had failed to race. At the time my
thought was, I'm not sure I need to do this one again, maybe a return
to F1 would be fun. And while I was
happy to drink my yay-I-finished-this-race beer, I felt like an impostor winning First Place Female by default.
 |
| Barely visible in my right hand is the large 1st place mug. Also, look how bundled up the timer was with jeans, jacket, and hat. |
Post Race Reflections
Comparing
this result against some other activities, I’m really not sure it was the
hardest.
2014 CAC swim segment. Due to a very strong head-on current focused at one buoy I had to bust into what was for me a
red-line effort to clear it and the congestion of
swimmers who seemed to be stuck there. And I had to hold that effort till I got
across to the next buoy else miss it and cut the
course. This stands as the
hardest swim I’ve completed and remains my personal worst 2.4 mi split (2:01:58). Even though anything involving water has an increased
difficulty factor as far as I’m concerned, this probably never counted as my hardest event overall.
My first century (Aug 1999).
In grad school I was a frequent biker of short routes: mainly 15-20, occasionally 30, and maybe only twice hitting 50 before
signing up for a week long bike tour covering 468 miles
in southwestern Colorado. This was before I had a cycling computer and my tiny and stiff-as-hell Cannondale with 7 speed cassette geared for racing made navigating the climbs a brute force effort.
Day 5 covered
the longest single day mileage – 106 miles from Creede to Gunnison with ~4500-6700 ft of climbing (memory vs Google Maps). Frankly, I
never expected to make it. The tour was
fully sag supported and I assessed at each rest stop how I felt and could I go
on, deciding to tap out around the 80 mile mark. Unfortunately I wasn’t the only one and I was
told it would be several hours of waiting if I chose to do that, so I soldiered on. This day opened my eyes to new heights of
saddle discomfort but I completed it, in 12 h, to an unparalleled sense of accomplishment - I was absolutely euphoric. Now-a-days neither the distance nor the climbing seem all that amazing, still this event gets increased
difficulty points for completion despite my low level of preparation. (Ah to be 27 again...)
2015 Philly Marathon (this past November).
I signed up for this on a whim following my better-than-imagined-for
result at B2B, thinking it would be a low cost, no risk experiment in trying to
execute on one of Jack’s run plans. To
do so would earn a BQ, something that I don’t actually give a hoot about other
than to shut my father up as apparently, nothing I do athletically is worth a
damn unless I meet this one Holy Grail of metrics.
Basically I held pace on a windy day for about the first 14-15 miles, and
then started falling off target in half minute per mile increments despite burying
myself to push harder. And I mean burying
myself, complete with painful cramping and hobbling, and finishing 11-13 min short
of the window described by my run plan - to absolute sobbing. It was like I had entered some dark place trying to execute this run and the end was not relief. I have never tried so hard to do
something, had it be so painful, and fallen so short of the objective. And I didn’t understand. This wasn’t me giving up; this was me
literally unable to do what my coach indicated I could. What did it mean? Had I no hope of running as well as he
thinks I can? Was I not athlete enough? At any rate, instead of
building trust in my progress, what I discovered was The Well was a really shitty place to be.
Back on Point, it seems
when I get to really thinking about it, I don’t actually know how to rank what
the hardest event is. Result vs
expectation? I gave up 10-20 min in a 10+
hr duathlon that I didn’t bother to dig deep for (was glad to be done but definitely missing any real sense of elation), and ~12 min in a 4 h marathon where
I had nothing left to give. And on the drive home I found myself in this absurd place of feeling some disappointment over finishing a really difficult race that I wasn't sufficiently destroyed after to convince myself I'd tried my best. What the hell is wrong with me? Now I have to sign up for this damn thing
again, and remember to unpack my A-game instead of leaving it in the car
with all my extra gear.
Post Script: This write-up was nearly done when I got my coach's feedback on my day, about which I mentioned feeling like I'd paced a bit too conservatively and failed to race. He listed a bunch of positives to take away and told me to be proud of this, and that I don't have to destroy myself to feel like it was a good result.
Wait.., what?
Post Script: This write-up was nearly done when I got my coach's feedback on my day, about which I mentioned feeling like I'd paced a bit too conservatively and failed to race. He listed a bunch of positives to take away and told me to be proud of this, and that I don't have to destroy myself to feel like it was a good result.
Wait.., what?
1: In case you missed it, this duathlon is staged at the Spring Farm trail head of the Mohonk Preserve, outside New Paltz, NY. See also this 2014 CWD AmZof post.
2: After the fact, one racer reported on SlowTwitch that he was blown across the road and another was reportedly blown off his bike on one of the climbs. Now that's some wind!
3: F1 = Middle Distance = Chris Gleason Memorial = 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run. LC = Long Course. CWD = Short Course = 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run. (CWD stands for Canadian Women's Division, a joke, though I don't know whether it refers to women from Canada who typically do this race distance, or a jab b/c real men would choose one of the longer races.)
4: Thanks to Jill for most of the photo credits! And for accompanying me to this event, for carrying my stuff and driving me home!!
3: F1 = Middle Distance = Chris Gleason Memorial = 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run. LC = Long Course. CWD = Short Course = 5 mi run / 28 mi bike / 5 mi run. (CWD stands for Canadian Women's Division, a joke, though I don't know whether it refers to women from Canada who typically do this race distance, or a jab b/c real men would choose one of the longer races.)
4: Thanks to Jill for most of the photo credits! And for accompanying me to this event, for carrying my stuff and driving me home!!
