Muncie Endurathon 2007

I did this race in 2005. I remembered just 3 things about this race: There is a section in the swim where you are blinded by the sun, the bike course is flat, fast and has very few turns and the run was tough with it's small, rolling hills. Notice the flag in this picture. This was before the race started and the winds picked up as the day went on. It's a good thing I didn't notice this before the race.

My wave was made up of several age groups of women. I think it was W30-49 or something, so it was a good sized group. At the last minute, they made it wetsuit-legal, which isn't my preference, but if everyone else wears a wetsuit, then I just go with a wetsuit. I don't even think I heard the gun sound, but I took off when everyone around me started swimming. Almost immediately, I saw a girl taking off and she was the ideal speed for me to draft off of....not too fast, not too slow. I had to work a little to jump on her heels and then I started coasting. We pulled away from the pack pretty quickly and I was enjoying my draft. Then she started pulling right. She stopped quickly, I almost crashed into her, she sighted and corrected and went off swimming again. Within seconds, she was back off course and I was bummed. I lost my draft. I watched her pull much too far to the right and she was way inside the buoys at this point, so off I went on my own. The water was pushing everyone to the right and I only noticed it after I left her heels. I had to take much stronger pulls with my left arm to keep straight on the course. I made it around the first buoy pretty easily and settled into a nice rhythym for the next stretch. I started hitting packs of people from the wave before me just around the second turn, so that made the turn a little tricky. See, many people slow down and do breaststroke kick around the turn and if you don't watch carefully, that's when you can easily get kicked in the face. I kept my head up around the turn and tried to navigate through the swimmers.

Then the sun hit. It was, just as I remembered, directly in our faces. Look for the big buoys! Yeah, right, you just cannot see anything. The sun is so bright and it's reflecting off the water, I couldn't see the other swimmers until I was almost touching them. You follow them, hoping they're going in the right direction, but you just can't tell. I tried to just sight from small buoy to small bouy, since they are closer, but even then, you just can't see that far in front of you. I think I sighted every breath for maybe 300 yards. I could sometimes see boats/kayaks trying to point out the course for us, but it was still difficult. Thankfully, that section wasn't too long and we turned again and though the sun was in my face when I breathed to the left, sighting was now a piece of cake and I could easily see the swim finish. However, the waves seemed to have picked up at this point. I was happy I'm a left-side breather as I felt the waves smashing against the right side of me on that whole last leg in. I felt pretty relaxed as I swam until my hand hit the sand. I got up out of the water and started running up to transition. Now I felt sluggish and my legs felt heavy. I stepped to the side, off the mat, to take my wetsuit off, then jumped back on the mat to finish running into T1. Slower swim than I had 2 years ago, but not too bad.

My transition went smoothly and as soon as I got on the bike, I was freezing. I tried not to think about it because I knew I'd warm up soon enough. There was a section on the course where you ride through a bike path, and I remembered that to feel very fast. This year, I wasn't going quite as fast, but I was keeping a good pace. Then we turned out onto the street and it felt windy. My speed dropped considerably and I tried to get as aero as possible. I kept looking down at my odometer and it said 2.00. What? I've been riding for 25 minutes, I know I've gone more than 2 miles. I looked down again a little later and it said 1.99. I had to laugh. What was I doing, going backwards?? OK, stop looking at the odometer and just pay attention to time. I tried to remember to drink and reposition myself on the saddle every 15 minutes. Next turn, wind hit us harder. I cannot believe I'm having another ride with the most ridiculous of wind conditions! I decided 2007 is definitely the year of the wind. In all my riding up until this year, I've never experienced these awful windy conditions. I was passed by lots of men and maybe 2-3 women. I lost count. My shoes were strapped on too tight and were pinching the tops of my feet, but I didn't stop to adjust them. I tried to focus on a strong cadence and this kept me in low gears for most of the ride. The wind was relentless and it seemed to constantly be against us. How come we couldn't catch a break?

At the turn around, I decided that was it...that was where we were going to have a nice, strong tailwind. And we DID! For about 3 minutes I rode at 28mph and was happy. Then the crosswind started back up. You've got to be kidding. This is so much harder than I remember. We must've had tailwind the whole time the year I did it because I remember it feeling effortless. This was NOT effortless and it was so difficult, I thought about quitting. I don't want to be beat up in the wind for 56 miles and then have to turn around and RUN 13 miles. This sucks. Why am I doing this again? My legs were already so tired from fighting the wind. We started through this residential area and we seemed to get a little relief from the wind. Then we were back out in the middle of nowhere on this really rough road. I started standing up over all the little bumps because I was already extremely uncomfortable and those bumps, that came in a solid little rhythym, were just killing me. Another turn and I was losing control of the front wheel. I kept having to pull the handlebars fiercely to the right to keep from falling over. This is ridiculous! Just then, I saw the transition area. Whew!


I got off at the dismount line and the 2 guys in front of me acted like the race was over. They started casually walking and talking as they headed into T2. I had to run around them with my bike. I heard people cheering for me, but I remained focused. OK, 13 miles to go. Man, my legs are tired, but I am so happy to be off that bike!

I grab my Clif Shots, some Aquaphor (in case I start chafing in the long 13 miles) and my visor. A volunteer yells at me that I don't have a bib on. Ah, but I do, it's just tucked under the shirt! I hear the saint tell me "Good bike, man it's really windy out there!" "Yeah" was all I could reply as I thought to myself "No shit, Sherlock." I know he means well, but he has no idea how tough it was nor the negative thoughts I had going on during those grueling 56 miles.


I try to mimick in my head the sound of my metronome. The metronome keeps my cadence high. I could hear lots of feet behind me and I could also hear that my turnover was much quicker than most of these people, which is what I want. More men pass me, left and right, and depressing as it can get, I expect it. This one guy, who started a wave behind me, caught up to me and struck up a conversation. We chatted about the difficulty on the bike, our respective tri clubs, where he was from, what Ironman races we've done, what other races we've planned for this year, and blah, blah, blah. It was nice to have him to run with for a few miles because it kept the pace strong and made the time go by faster. But then I lost this guy at an aid station. I kept thinking he'd catch back up, but he never did, and I didn't stop to wait.

The miles kept going by and the aid stations were plentiful and well-stocked. I rotated grabbing a water with grabbing a cup of ice. I have a tendency to gulp too much water and I remember walking very many miles of this race 2 years ago due to heat and stomach problems. Heat was definitely not a factor this year, so I just needed to control my fluid intake. I was really thirsty, but gulping down water just leaves me with a sloshy stomach, so the ice seems like the next best thing. I did get caught in a Gatorade exchange as the volunteer on my right tried to hand a runner on my left a cup, well, Gatorade all down the side of my leg. The volunteer apologized, but it really didn't bug me. My quads were burning and that little incident just helped me take my mind off the pain I was feeling.

I was passed by an older woman and she was just flying by on the run. I did notice that she slowed her pace once she was a bit ahead of me, but I just didn't have the energy or desire to try and catch her. I was at mile 7 trying to work the clock to figure out what kind of time I would have, but my mind plays games with me and I start to think I only have 4 miles left. Then when I realize I have 5, I quit trying to figure out anything and just try to focus on the run. My breathing is quite controlled, but my legs are screaming. Much like the pain I felt in the Dallas Half Ironman earlier this year. I remembered how bad I felt during that race, and it was for much longer, so I just tried to think about what was feeling GOOD. The temperature (to me, anyway) was good. It wasn't raining. The wind was refreshing, though a little strong, cooled us down a bit. The course was nice. My feet weren't being pinched by those bike shoes any more...though I could feel a blister developing on my right arch.

I kept going and hitting my watch at the mile markers and my splits stayed amazingly consistent. This helped give me a mental boost around mile 9, but it also left pretty quickly, before mile 10! Then I just kept saying to myself, OK, just 3 more miles...and then compare it to 3 miles at Waterfall Glen. OK, just 2 miles...and I thought about how humiliated I was 2 years ago when I walked past a house with a big crowd in front and they cheered for me. And I was walking. It felt horrible. I vowed to myself I would not be walking past that house this year. Then there was a pretty big uphill ahead. There was a volunteer telling the runners - just up the hill, then you'll see the finish. I put my head down and just focused on the few steps in front of me. It seems easier than focusing on the top of the hill. Slowly, but surely, I made it to the top, quads begging me to stop, but I pushed on. I had no "kick", I only had the pace I was going and stop...I chose to keep the pace I was going. I could see the saint and some other friends along the finish line and I tried to smile, but just couldn't do it. I already knew this was going to be a PR for me...by a LOT. I wanted to finish strong, slap hi-5s and dance down the finish chute, but had no energy. I just wanted to be across the finish line so I could stop. And just like that, my new Half Ironman PR was set.