A week of ups and downs...and downs and ups...

First, let’s start with Boston.  The Monday that started well.  I was able to track some friends through the online run tracker, I had the live feed from the marathon playing in the background on my computer at work as I read through some budget numbers, and all was well.  Then you all know what happened.  I won’t recap or wax poetic, as so many have done a much better job than I at conveying the anger, sorrow and hope that resulted from that tragedy.  It really affected me more than I expected it to—maybe because even though I have not YET qualified for Boston, I associate with the running community and so experienced a profound sadness.  And then promptly tried to exercise the hell out of it! 

Then more sad news…we lost our beloved greyhound Bo to what was likely bone cancer that resulted in a broken leg that could not be repaired.  A busy week at work, sadness to work through and the impending half ironman triathlon on Sunday was my week. 

Happily, the HIM went amazingly well, and I ended this sad week on a really high note! 

I am now on week 13 of my training plan (only 18 to go!), and at times I have struggled with trusting the plan, with whether I’ll be ready for the Ironman or not.  Of course, when I have a bad training day I start to feel like I’ll never be able to work my endurance/strength/speed up to the level I need to in order to meet my IM goal.  Then I’ll have a good training day and feel a bit better.  And so it goes, back and forth, the usual ups and downs of a long training plan.

My attitude approaching the Clermont HIM was very strange.  I wasn't that stressed about it.  And that’s a big deal, because I can really get my OCD on when prepping for an important race.  I kept saying aloud (to anyone who would listen) that this was just a “training race,” that I wasn't “ready” for this distance, that it was “practice.”  And mostly I believed that.  But I always want to do the best I can, and rarely hold back if I think I can push harder.  In fact, I was the team captain and instigator for our local Corporate 5K race which a small number of our staff participate in every year.  I usually run it as fast as I can given the 16,000 participants, and the majority of my coworkers walk it.  I decided this year to walk with them so that I wouldn't overcook my quads just 3 days before the triathlon.  Some running friends suggested I just “run it slow.”  Yeah, that doesn't work for me.  I go all out, all the time.  So walking was the best way to control that—and you know what?  It was SO relaxing!  I feel somewhat guilty saying that, because for some participants, walking a 5K is a really big deal—and if that is where you’re at with your fitness, that’s great!  But for me, a 5K walk was my rest day, and it felt really good and stress-free.

Um…where was I?  Oh yeah, my attitude towards the HIM.  So I truly was intending to use this as a training race to (1) practice nutrition on the course, which meant I was planning on increasing my fluid and supplement intake a LOT and (2) see how hard I could push on the bike and still have legs for the run.  Oh, and (3), I was really interested to see how my swim would go given all the work I’ve been doing in the pool.  So with all this in mind, I was pretty laid back and calm.

The things that did make me nervous:

• Water temperature: a month ago it was 69 degrees and I borrowed a wet suit.  This time, no wet suit, cooler temps and wind blew through in the days before the race (effectively cooling the lake), and I am wimpy in cold water.
• How hard SHOULD I go on the bike?  I know the course, but I’ve never done the “big” climbs (Sugarloaf, Buckhill, The Wall) on my tri bike before.  I didn’t doubt I could do it, the question was just how fast?
• The run didn’t cause too much stress because I had a really great 15K recently, but I couldn’t help but think back to the Olympic race a month ago where I was struggling to maintain pace on a 10K, feeling like I just wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep on the side of the course.

So race morning arrives, and The Weather Channel got it completely wrong.  Before we left home, it said that there was a 5% chance of rain at 6am, and from 7am on, a 0% chance of rain.  As we drove to Clermont, in the POURING rain, I check again and now there is an 85% chance of rain at 7am.  Ya think?!

We arrive in Clermont to a seemingly deserted area.  There are not many people doing this race!  It is sprinkling and breezy, but the downpour has not followed us yet.  When I pick up my race packet I see the sign—water temps measured at 77 degrees, wet suit legal!  Too bad I don’t have a wet suit.  So now I start worrying even more that I’ll be too cold in the water.  After setting up my transition area, covering my shoes with towels in case it rains (it still looks like it might storm), I head down to the water to try to get a swim warm-up in.  I get to the water, seeing that most everybody is wearing a wet suit, step in…and it’s not cold at all!  They must have taken that reading in a cold spot to help the athletes out and make it a wet suit legal event.  So I start swimming—and the waves and current are pretty choppy!  I feel completely out of breath and unprepared and…there’s the announcement calling everyone out of the water so we can start.  All the women go together in the first wave, so I head back to shore.

So here we go, National Anthem, moment of silence for Boston, and it’s 60 seconds to the start.  Nothing I can do now except try to clear my foggy goggles and get going!  And we’re off…I get a good running start and porpoise jump through the water until I start my swim stroke.  Then, as usual, I see the women all swimming away, much faster than me.  There are only 22 women starting, so the usual arms/legs/swatting/washing machine effect of a triathlon swim start lasts only seconds, and I soon carve out my little space.  I get tired so easily in the swim!  The choppy water and current are both strong and daunting, but I know this means it will be easier once I make the turn across the back parallel to shore, and then the turn home.  Although I can feel myself struggling, I get to the first turn buoy faster than I thought I would (at least it seemed faster), and sure enough, the current is better swimming parallel to shore.  When I make the final turn home I just try to stay in line with the finish and not swim too far off course.  I did an okay job, but apparently I pull left when I swim because I had to keep correcting my trajectory towards shore.  My legs have a tendency to sink, so I really need to work on my kick.  But my stroke and body rotation felt good. 

Swim is finished and I head to transition.  Brian is at the fence talking me through as I put on a wind vest (thinking that I’ll be too cold on the bike without it), and try to steady myself because I’m dizzy from the swim.  Not my best transition, but I did okay, and off I go.

The start of the bike is windy but flat and I settle into a rhythm.  When I get to the rollers that I’m familiar with, I realize my legs are pretty tired, and this scares me.  Did I kick too hard on the swim? Why would my legs be tired already?  But I’m sure as hell not going to slow down, so I just keep at it.  At about mile 14, we turn into a headwind.  And it’s a long stretch of rolling hills that seem to only go up.  I just keep hoping that the wind will not change direction because we come back on the course in the opposite direction, which should mean a really nice tailwind!  But this is Florida in springtime, and the wind has a mind of its own.

Soon we get to the first of the tough climbs…I say we, but really it’s a lonely ride with such a small field.  The men started 10 minutes after the women, so there are quite a few tall, lean guys flying by me on really nice bikes.  No women ever pass me, though.  I even pass some men who had obviously passed me on the swim but underestimated the bike course.  I get to Sugarloaf, the “big” climb, at the 1 hour 28 minute mark, and I’m feeling pretty good.  I’m not quite halfway done with the course, but knowing the big climbs are done and that I should have a tailwind for a little bit, I aim to finish the bike in under 3 hours.  I’m happy when I get back to that long, rolling stretch of road and indeed have a tailwind.  I’m flying at 24-25 mph for a while, having a lot of fun.  Then with 11 miles to go I make a turn that gives me an unfavorable crosswind.  But I know this course and keep telling myself "11 miles is nothing."  I come in at just under 3 hours and 1 minute, not too bad.  However, my lower back had started aching just a little.  My hamstrings had started complaining more than a little.  I was so nervous that they would cramp when I bent over to put on my running shoes.  But they didn’t!  I got through T2 in 1 minute, really easy, calm execution, and I’m out on the run.

Brian is there running beside me telling me there are only 5 women ahead of me, telling me how good I’m doing and offering great words of encouragement.  The run course is two loops, and I know I’ll pass the start/finish area a couple of times and get to hear his supporting words just when I need them most.  As I run, I remind myself that I have to keep eating and drinking, and so far that’s going pretty well.  My stomach is not rebelling too much, and I manage to take in fluids and more nutrition as I make my way through the 13.1 miles.  Since the course is a double out-and-back, I see the women in front of me.  Number 5 I pass pretty quickly, she’s shuffling.  Number 4 doesn’t look bad coming the other way, but before I even reach mile 4 I’m passing her, offering words of encouragement.  Number 1 and 2 both look really strong and are way ahead of me.  I also cheer them on—I know they’re competition, but I like to see women do well in competitive events.

As I pass Brian before mile 5, he’s telling me that the number 3 girl is cramping, telling me to go get her, run her down.  I see at the next turn-around that she’s not doing well.  So right when I get back to where Brian is to start the second loop, I pass her.  She’s walking and clearly having a bad run.  I offer words of encouragement, and she says “you’re number 3, go get ‘em.”  As competitive as we can be, I just love the encouragement we have in this triathlon community!  So holy crap!  I’m in third place!  I could see earlier when they passed that the woman in second was going to take the lead, because she was gaining on #1, and by the time I see them again there is a new leader.  1^st place is looking strong and not tired at all, and now second place is looking like she’s hurting.  After I make the turnaround, the woman behind me in fourth seems to have found a second wind, she’s running strong, but when she passes me she yells “second place is only 2:30 ahead of you, only 2:30 ahead!”  So I pick it up.  Not because I think I can catch number 2, but because I’m afraid number 4 is going to catch me!  By mile 11, I start to feel a little tired, but I think I’m still keeping pace, trying to focus on leg turnover and to just keep moving.  I cheer on number 1 as she passes me in the other direction less than ½ mile from the finish.  As I get to mile 12, I see number 2.  She is clearly struggling, but I know at that point that I’m not going to catch her.  But I also know that I am solidly in 3^rd and won’t get caught.  So I push my legs to finish that last mile, and they get heavy, but I know a mile is nothing so I just continue.  I’m so excited to finish and finish well!

Here are my results:

Total 5:29:17, 3^rd out of 18 finishers (22 started)

Swim 37:52, 10/22

T1 2:49

Bike 3:00:54, 18.6 mph avg, 2/18

T2 1:00:00

Run 1:46:44, 8:09 pace, 3/18

Lessons learned: there will be ups and downs.  Learn from the downs and move on, ride the ups but learn from those too, trust the training plan, and HAVE FUN!