Steelhead Race Report

My first 70.3 really wasn't even a 70.3! Yes, of course I've done other Half Ironman races, but this year's Steelhead Triathlon was technically my first "70.3". In the last few years, I've purposely chosen races that were NOT "70.3". But this isn't the post for that, I'll get to that another day.

On Saturday, after we did our training ride, we were on our way to drop off the bikes in transition when a storm rolled in. The winds picked up, stuff started blowing all over the place and my short little Kestrel was just hanging on the rack,
too small to reach the pavement. With the wind, I knew it wouldn't stay up there, so I opted to bring the bike back to the hotel and bring it in the morning. After all, rack space was pre-assigned, so I figured I'd be good. The wind was blowing the sand so strongly as we made our way back to the car, it felt like we were getting a microderm abrasion treatment! Unfortunately, all that sand stuck to my legs and some got in my mouth. Ick.

Dinner took too long that night, but we were still back at the hotel at a decent time and went to sleep pretty early. Of course, nerves won't let me sleep in and I woke up before the alarm. I quickly gathered my things and we were some of the first people showing up to the parking lot. A long walk with the bikes to transition and before we make it to body marking we learn the swim has officially been cancelled. WHAT? You're kidding. It's not a "triathlon" without the swim! The news disappoints me and sucks some of my motivation to really try to RACE. I decide that if my training buddy decides, forget it, let's skip this and go home, I'll go. It's dark, cloudy, very windy and I don't even get to do my favorite part of the race. We get body marked (what a cluster!) and head into transition. I just threw my stuff down and wondered what to do. Now we were WAY early and they were not even closing transition.

Now the race is a time trial bike start (3 seconds between competitor) and then the run. No 70.3 here. Oh, but the Age Group winners still get slots to the 70.3 Championships. Doesn't seem fair. So if you're a really crappy swimmer but are good at the bike and run and want to get to the championships, go enter a 70.3 that might have the swim cancelled. There's your chance! And that's yet ANOTHER blog post...I digress.

As the sun came up and I saw the water, sure, it was a bit wavy. Didn't look too bad, but I guess they can't take the risk. I get that. Still disappointed, but I get it. So now how do I focus on trying to make this a good race? And at the very least, a solid training day. We headed out for a warm up run that really wasn't good or long enough because of all the people milling about. I didn't feel it would help one way or another, but it was a way to pass time.

I put on my bike shoes, helmet and must've changed my sunglasses 4-5 times. Is it sunny? No, too cloudy. Will it get sunny? Should I use the dark lenses? No, the orange ones. Wait, no, too dark, ok get the clear ones. Wait, here comes the sun, get the dark lenses out again. It was super windy and all I had was my disc wheel. I didn't even bring the other one. Oops. I'll just deal with it. We waited as they started the age groupers off every 3 seconds. Made some friends with the other ladies whose numbers were around mine. Saw lots of friends while waiting.

Off we go - anti-climactic start with no spectators, but what can you do? I ride for about 10 minutes before I try to find my groove. Within the first 15-20 minutes I realize I'm riding way too fast. This is not where I should be. I'm breathing too hard. My legs are working too hard. Oh, but in the back of my mind I am thinking about all the time I have to make up for there being no swim! If I could just make up those minutes on the bike...wait, what am I thinking? That's so silly! But at this point, this race doesn't mean much, so let's just see how much it takes to blow MJ up. Let's keep this pace and see if I can hang on for the run. If I can't, I don't lose anything anyway...

So I fight for every mph I can get. Every time I felt myself starting to coast I looked at the clock and tried to figure out how much further ahead I was of my predicted (SMART) time. I wondered if I was digging myself into a hole that I would regret being in on the back half of the run... I was glad I had armwarmers and toe covers on. It was chilly. I had to remind myself to drink. I just wasn't thirsty. The winds whipped my bike around a couple of times, but overall, the disc was a good decision for the day. Due to the time trial start, I witnessed very little drafting, if at all. Then again, I saw no officials, so it wouldn't have mattered.

Mile 36 of the ride and I see my favorite abandoned RV and think of the training day we had out there. I had to smile. It was one of those rides you'll never forget. And wonder what possessed you to continue riding in those ridiculous conditions. Back on to M63, the final stretch of the bike, and I poured it on. It is my favorite part of the ride. I counted the minutes and we had a sweet tailwind that made this last section really fun! At the end of the ride, there was a sharp turn
into the park...WAIT! ON TO THE SIDEWALK? WTF! NO! This sucks! It was narrow, you couldn't pass anyone, the banners were blowing across the very narrow sidewalk that was actually the course, the turns were too sharp to maintain any sort of speed. Oh, yeah, I did not like the finish to the ride.

Once in transition, it was THE LONGEST TRANSITION EVER! Ugh, I got tired of running with my bike! I quickly whipped off my helmet and armwarmers, switched shoes and grabbed my hat, gels and visor and took off. OK...let's see how the legs hold up! Right away, I was chilly. My toes were numb from the ride - yeah, I know it wasn't that cold, that's just what happens to me! They warmed up by mile 3. Running along, a decent hill at the first turn...had a woman pass me with "52" on her calf. 52? WOW, lady, you're fast for an old chick...I know I was running sub 8s and she flew by me! Then I saw her other leg. Um, 52 was her PRO race number, not her age. Duh. No wonder why she was so fast! :)

Since the run was 2 loops, I didn't see a whole lot of our teammates. I started pretty early and I tried to pick up the second loop of the run when I was told there was a certain someone about 5 minutes ahead of me. Can I do it? I pushed. We went through the Whirlpool campus - a small, narrow path. First time through, piece of cake. Second time?? WAY TOO MANY people and tough to pass. Some people were trying to run 3 abreast. Really? I hate pushing past people like that, but I shouldn't be expected to slow down for that, either. I took in water at every aid station and most of it was consumed. I did miss a few gulps.

A big motivator was the Team Tri Smart Team Spectate! These are the cheering fans of Team Tri Smart and can be spotted with the bright, red shirts. Every time I saw a solid, red shirt, I looked. It was a huge boost to see these guys out there, cheering us on. On my second pass, I
pushed. I caught up to the only female who passed me on the bike. It felt good, though because she started behind me, I knew she was still beating me. I didn't stop to wave to the peeps, I just focused. I wanted to see what I had left. It started to hurt. I knew I had about a mile left. Just a mile. I kept telling myself it was less than 10 minutes, just keep pushing!

I ended up NOT catching my rabbit, but I had him in my sights! I was able to meet up with him in the finish chute and we had a little post race celebratory water together. We both overextended those bike rides and paid for it a bit on the run, but it was fun. And I STILL haven't done a "70.3"....

TTT

Is Triple T harder than Ironman? I say no. However, I guess it's how you decide to play it. I went into the weekend not really knowing what to expect - except that I would NOT redline any of the events. First, I was in no way trained well enough. Second, who knows how the body will respond by doing a super sprint one day, two Olympics the next day and a half Ironman the third day? I didn't want to spend the next couple of weeks recovering from this. So let's do it.

Arrive around 2:15pm on Friday - first race is at 5pm. Find out assigned race jersey (which is required for all events) is too small. Go figure. Hustle to room and scrounge for food. No time to leave and get food, just eat some of the snacks we brought for the ride. Can't find parking near event. Circle around and go back to hotel, switch all gear to a backpack and ride down to race with all gear in tow.

I'm number 58 - how did I get here? Oh, they seeded you by your fastest Half Ironman time (now I wish I sandbagged that time). Don't even have time for a warm up swim, besides, I heard the water is pretty cold. Off we go - time trial start, by 2s, 3 seconds apart. I meet the nicest guy who I'd start with all weekend - Chris from Canada. One of the nicest guys I've ever met. Get in the water, hyperventilate for about 75 yards, then settle into a flow. Turn around - oh, it's time to get out. Only 250 yard swim. Really? On to bike - keeping HR low - up a hill. Slow. Manage watts - wait...PowerTap goes blank. Are you kidding me? Who cares, it's only 5 miles. Back to transition, out on the run. HR feeling high. How long is just ONE MILE, anyway? Damn, feels long. Finish. Some food provided at end of race. Normally, I wouldn't touch it, but I was starving. One done. Three to go.

Back to hotel, shower, discuss the day - head out for food. There is absolutely NO CELL SERVICE in the area. No email, no calls, no texts. Weird. Drive around for about 30 minutes before finding a pizza buffet. Cheap. Eat, go back and prepare for the next day. First race - regular Olympic distance. First climb on the bike about a 14% grade. Yay. Pace yourself. Went about the pace I felt I could do all day. Goal was to get both Olympic races the same time. FREEZING out of the swim on the bike. Wished we were riding in some sunshine. Wished I put arm warmers on. Run OK, nothing great. Hilly ride and run.

Go back to hotel, shower, wash jersey and hope it dries before next race @ 3pm. Athletes are pretty low-key....arriving to transition very close to race start. Different type of feeling to this event, hard to describe. Take a nap. Shovel in some food and head down for an Olympic that is Bike-Swim-Run. Heard nasty stories of people getting off bikes and jumping into the 58 degree water and cramping up. I'm just gonna chill. Did the bike - challenging, but not as bad as the morning course. Ripped my wetsuit putting it on but NO WAY was I getting in that water without one. Felt refreshing, but my chafing from the run earlier in the day stung. Stung bad. I know I screamed. Passed LOTS of dudes in the water. Made me smile. Out on the run, all those dudes got me back. :( Tried to hold same pace as the morning. Couldn't do it. HOT! Not used to the high temperatures.

Showered again, ate in the room. Had to pay for internet service. Packed up all my stuff since they wouldn't give us a late enough checkout to shower after race. Went to bed pretty early.

On Half Ironman day, I decided to start later. In case you haven't had this experience, being a strong swimmer, decent biker and mediocre runner can be pretty taxing in the mental department. People pass you all day long. Somewhere during the weekend, I decided that passing someone in the swim is not as satisfying as passing them in the bike or run. Just isn't. Swim felt great. Love the time trial start, no thrashing arms and legs to be scared of. Just the ice cold water and my rhythym. Felt nice.

Out on the bike. Brutal. Climbs are hard - wishing I had more gears or a compact crank. Got passed A LOT. Downhills were not better as my back wheel slipped on the first hairpin turn going downhill. I was overcautious for the rest of the ride on the downhills. I don't want to kill a season trying to decend like a fool when I really wasn't in contention for anything. Rode the brakes. A lot. Probably should replace them now.

On to the run. Very hot. SLOW. Just keep moving - only walked up hill. That's because I probably walked up some of those hills faster than I could run them! As usual, picked up my pace in the second half of my run. Not sure why, but I always have a better second half run. Maybe I need to do more brick training. One of the aid stations I had to grab a used cup and dip it in a garbage can full of water. Nasty! But I was so thirsty! It was near 90 degrees. Not complaining, I love the heat, but I needed water!! Descended my splits the last 4 miles of the run. Felt good to actually PASS some people on the run!

I felt great. Yes, my legs are pretty cashed still - but I still think it was easier to break up the 140.6 miles over 3 days than to try and to it all in one day. Especially on that course. The second loop of the bike on Sunday was mentally challenging. I didn't want to be out there anymore. But I came out to finish. And I did. Time for the next challenge.

Liberty Half Ironman Race Report

As if driving about 9 hours the day before a race wasn't bad enough, we woke up to temperatures in the low 50s and rain in the forecast. I couldn't decide if I should put on armwarmers and gloves for the bike or save the time in transition and just grit it out. I set everything out in transition because I couldn't keep my teeth from chattering. I put on booties under my wetsuit too and, of course, toe covers on my bike shoes.

The swim was a bit weedy and seemed a little long, but it was easy to get out in front in my wave and I had a pretty clean swim for the duration. About 400 yards from the finish, some clown from the wave in front of me decided he'd try his hand at drafting as I went by. Here's a tip for all you wanna-be drafters: DO NOT TOUCH the person you're drafting off of. It's quite possible to have an effective draft without hitting my feet with every stroke, despite what you might think.

Once in transition, I was breathing deeply and didn't feel so cold, so I skipped the gloves and armwarmers and just hopped on my bike. Within 2 minutes, I thought about turning around. WOW - the air felt like ice and I thought about what 56 miles of this would feel like. I should turn around and get my armwarmers. Maybe put on a shirt. And jacket. And gloves. Wait, did I bring a hat? But no - at the risk of losing time and possibly screwing up my timing if I went backwards over the mat, I decided to suck it up and just ride. How bad could it be? Well - it was bad. I had goosebumps for the duration of the ride. My fingers would not work and I couldn't feel my toes. I didn't take much advantage of the downhill because the faster I went, the colder I got. This ride could not be over soon enough.

Back into transition, I couldn't work my fingers to get my bike shoes off and put my running shoes on. My toes were completely numb. I headed out and tried to figure out what pace I could hold. I started flexing my fingers, but still had trouble getting gel from my back pocket. At about mile 4, my toes started to thaw. It was around then that the rain started coming down. Are you kidding me? I'm not sweating in the slightest and the icy rain drops pelting on my arms once again brought on those goosebumps. At first it was just a drizzle. Then it came down. Cats and dogs. Well, at least it didn't rain while I was on the bike!

The rain was off and on for the remainder of the run. Hang on, can I see my breath? Yep, that's it! My pace slowed around mile 8 and my legs began to feel heavy. With a little bit of self-talk, I was able to bring those miles back down to where the first few were and continued on with that pace to the finish. With purple lips, frozen fingers, not a stitch of dry clothing anywhere and no shelter at the finish line and pouring rain, I was forced to collect my things from transition and run to the car and crank the heat. Worst weather conditions I've ever done a Half Ironman in. Aside from that, Final Stretch put on a terrific event!

Great Illini Half Ironman Race Report

Though I'd had this race in mind for the last couple of months, I just signed up about a week ago for this event. I was tossing around the idea of doing the Full Ironman Aquabike here (2.4 swim followed by 112 run), as I did last year. However, the thought of getting in another half ironman in this year to prepare for Ironman Arizona sounded appealing.

Unlike last year, the predicted weather was just perfect for racing. We picked up Jess and arrived in transition at about 5:15am. We pulled up right next to AJ and then Caroline pulled in rightnext to us! Not sure how many total participants in this race, but transition is tiny. I like tiny - fast transitions! I was too late to get the first spot on the rack, but second wasn't bad. Truthfully, there is not a bad spot in all of this transition area.

I helped Elizabeth with a little tire problem and was pretty distracted...so distracted that when I was about to get into the water, the Saint asked, "hey, where's your chip?" I HAD FORGOTTEN TO PICK IT UP! Yikes! I ran over, pickedit up and slapped it on my ankle. I skipped body marking all together. (did I mentionI was distracted?) My feet were really cold, so I got in the water to warm them up. Swam a couple strokes and the water was a good temperature. Walked over to Caroline, got this quick photo and jumped over to line up for the start.

The first section of this swim is directly into the sun. The buoys are pretty far apart and it was a bit difficult to see them with the sunglaring in my face. After the first turn, I was already running into people from the previous wave. It was easier to see now. After the second turn, I had to stop more than once to find the next buoy...spaced too far apart. I didn't trust that the swimmers in front of me were on the right track. The swim felt good and I ran into transition and got out of there in a hurry. Nice to have small transition areas!

This was my first race on the new aerobars. I know I didn't put in as much time on them as I should have, but theyfelt pretty good. I had to rearrange the aerobottle and computer, so the whole set up was a new experience for me. Seems to have worked out! The first 10 miles of the course was turn after turn after turn. There was no time to get up to speed before having to slow down to go around a corner. Thankfully, the volunteers learned this year that we do not want unopened water bottles on the bike! They still don't realize it's easier to hand us bottles as they run in the same direction we're riding, though. My handoffs were pretty good because they had the stops right after the U turns on the course. I need to practice getting through those faster!

Once we got out further into the course, it felt windy in almost every direction we rode. Not terrible, but enough to make it loud in my ears. Lots of unleashed dogs running out onto the course. Very dangerous! I heard one run up barking after me and I freaked out a little and started riding faster to make sure he didn't take a chunk outof my leg! I yelled at several others as I rode up to them...they were just standing in the street and would begin chasing biker after biker as we rode by. Insane! I was working on keeping a steady power output. It turned out to be not quite what I was looking for, but taking into consideration all the slowing for the turns and U turns on the course, it wasn't too bad. Not a very fast bike split for me. I was getting uncomfortable in places I don't want to talk about and was happy to see transition up ahead.

Super fast transition (about 40 seconds I think) and I was off and running. My toes on both feet were numb. It's not fun to run when you can't feel your toes. I think it took until mile 3 for them to warm up. Note to self: put on toecovers when it's below 70 degrees in the morning! I've never complained of my feet being too hot during a race. The run course was rather boring. It was a "C" shape and to cover the 13.1 miles, you had to go out and back and out and back...I cannot imagine the people doing the full ironman today...they had to do that FOUR TIMES! Good God! Had some pain in one foot...something I've never felt before, but it didn't seem to slow me down. I stuck with my regular nutrition on the run and felt good until around mile 10 when the hamstring pain kicked in. I slowed, but not too much. I only ran the second "lap" 1 minute slower than the first one. I was happy to be done.

Weather conditions were perfect...aside from the little wind on the bike, the day was just beautiful. Don't get many days like that, so you have to enjoy them when you get them! I'm now suffering from a considerable amount of chafing. And now the Ironman training begins.

Steelhead Half Ironman Race Report

For the entire week before Steelhead, I tortured myself with thoughts about the race. With the bee sting, swimming was out. With the shin splints, running was out. It really sucks when you can't do 2 of the 3 events that made up this race. Each day, I'd wake up, throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Gingerly, I'd shift all my weight to my left leg to see if I'd feel any pain. And so it went,
for the next 6 days. I tried so hard to NOT think about running and training and just tried to focus on other things. As the days went by, it was looking more and more like I'd have to forego the run portion of this race. It was mental torture. But every time I climbed up the stairs in my house, I knew that running on this injury could do me no good. Even if I pushed through, which I believe I could have done, I don't think I could've improved my last Half IM time, and...even if I did, at what cost would that be? Set me back another 3-4 weeks of run training while I stay off my feet???

Even as I packed to go to the race and threw my running shoes in the bag, just in case, by some miracle, the shin made a spectacular recovery overnight, I had a deep gut feeling that I was going to have to chalk up this race as my very first DNF. On the way up to Benton Harbor, CJB gave me a call to see how the leg was and wish me luck. When I told him it still wasn't feeling good, he encouraged me to not run. While I'd been having the thoughts of just bailing on the run all week, the words from him were like the sign I needed to affirm my thoughts on preventing myself from doing further damage. Why was this so important? Because although CJB and I have had our differences and can bicker like brother and sister, we both share a certain passion for the sport. And neither of us likes to give up. When another over-the-top-psycho-competitive triathlete tells you it's probably best to sit it out, well, then it probably is. And though it's easy for me to tell someone it's the right thing to do, it's a very different thing to follow that same advice.

We arrived at the obnoxiously overcrowded packet pick up only to be directed to park over a mile away from the site. It looked like everyone was bringing their bikes, so I reluctantly pulled my bike out of the car, put it back together and hopped on it for a test spin. Everything seemed to be OK, so we walked over to pick up my race materials. It was utter chaos. Even though there were volunteers directing athletes where to park, it was an absolute nightmare. Vehicles were parked on both sides of the narrow entrance into the park area. There were cars trying to get in and others trying to get out while trying to maneuver around the athletes (like me) who had to walk their bikes from a much further location. I had one volunteer say to me "Hey, we have cars coming down here." Uh, yeah, I'm walking on the grass way off the side of the road. Where else would you like me to go? Completely ridiculous. Keep in mind this race was about half the size (and price) last year. I truly believe the race grew too much too fast.

I made my way slowly over to the expo area and the place was a zoo. One thing that jumped out to me immediately was that there were not near enough porta potties for a race of this size. I grabbed my packet and weaved my way through the oncoming swarm of anxious triathletes. I had to put my number on my bike before they'd let me in transition, which was a bummer, because I like to take my time and put it on the bike in just the right way. Fortunately, there were numbers for each athlete, so there was no rush to try and get a good space on the rack. I threw the bike up on the rack, let air out of the tires (it was quite hot out and would be a big bummer if a tire blew before I came back tomorrow morning!) and immediately headed back to the car. I couldn't get away from this crowd of craziness fast enough.

I called BC and Chuck who were just heading in to the expo. We made some plans to hook up for dinner later and that gave us just enough time to go check in to the hotel and shower. Dinner was at the same place as last year. The food was OK, it's the outside seating that is a big win for me. Then it was back to the hotel to try and get some sleep. I was not nervous in the least. In fact, I think I was much too relaxed. But I felt like I had no business being there. It was weird, I almost felt ashamed knowing I wasn't going to complete the race. I had no ambition about doing well because I knew it wasn't going to matter. I guess ithe feeling is hard to describe, but I really wish I had tried to defer my entry to next year. My head was not at all in the game.

Transition was opening at 4:30, but the race wasn't starting until 7:00. We decided to leave the hotel around 5:15, just to be safe. This ended up being a good call as the cars were lined up as far as the eye could see to get into the parking lot. There were cars coming from both directions and there was no one out there yet directing traffic and it was starting to look like a mess. We were then shuttled over to the transition area. It was dark and I was bummed to have not remembered my head lamp. Athletes were piling into transition and it got crowded quickly. There was very little space between bikes and I was lucky to have empty spaces on not just one but BOTH sides of my bike. I felt like I had a lot of real estate! Many of the athletes were complaining because they had no where to put their bags and they weren't letting you line them up along the fence like they do in many races. I set up all my stuff quickly, leaving my running shoes in my bag.

I went over to body marking, went over to wish BC luck and then jumped in the ever-growing line for the porta potties. I knew we had to walk 1.2 miles down the beach for the start of the race. I guess I didn't realize how long walking 1.2 miles in the sand was going to take me because I missed BC's start. Next thing you know, they're calling for wave 4 to line up. I was in wave 7 and hadn't put my wetsuit on yet!

I started freaking out that I was going to miss my start so I frantically turned the wetsuit right side out and squirmed my way in. The waves were only 2 minutes apart, and that information was no where to be found. (in fact, the race packet was one of the most skimpy, information-bare packets I've ever received) I wanted to get in for a quick warm up swim, but there was no time. Each athlete had to go all the way around the fence and go over the mat in order to activate the timing chip. I stood at the entrance of thw swim start waiting for my wave. I needed to make sure I got to the front of the 100+ people that would be in my wave. As I stood there, athlete after athlete ran through....they had already missed their wave. I saw people in all but the first wave who had missed their start. I wasn't counting, but I'm going to guess I witnessed over 30 athletes who had missed their start. I've never seen anything like it.

Then there was another weird little thing. This girl with a Purdue "P" on her face told me she was going to run down the beach. Huh? Yeah, she said she watched all the elite people in the first wave do it. People were running down the beach in the direction of the first buoy and then swimming straight out to it instead of the diagnal line we would've had to swim had we started swimming from the start. The Saint then tells me to do it because the people running down the beach to start are getting a huge head start from those who are opting to jump in the water immediately. And yes, I thought it was weird, but no one was stopping them and, technically, we're still going around the first buoy correctly, so I guess it's legit...? With the start of the horn, I start running down the beach. I was not in the front of the pack and people were running down the beach much further than I thought they would, but I just followed. I was already winded when we started running into the water. It was shallow for a LONG time and I did several dolphin dives before I got out far enough to actually start swimming. By this point, I was breathing really heavy and I could not believe the amount of energy it took me to do that short run and all those dolphin dives. It was draining! I had to slow down a bit to get my breathing back under control and I was swimming parallel with another woman from my wave. It looked like we had pulled away from the pack (later I would learn that someone got out about 2 minutes before me...I bet it was the Purdue girl). The swim reminded me of Accenture. Within 5 minutes, I was swimming among a sea of people. It seemed near impossible to get away from them. The sighting for this course was pretty easy, but it still seemed that people were veering off course between each bouy. I swam comfortably, but the swim felt long to me. I could still see the other woman from my wave, but I was able to put just a little distance between us. We made the right turn that headed us back into the beach and it felt like I picked up a huge amount of speed. I started to pull harder to take advantage of that feeling. Soon, I was greeted by athletes walking in the water across a sandbar that was pretty far out into the lake. What are they doing?? There is still quite a ways for us to swim! Some of them realized they had only hit a sand bar and started swimming again. Others just kept walking toward the beach.

I continued to swim until I was close to 4 feet away from shore. I ran out of the water and started up the long, sandy, uphill section toward transition. I quickly ripped off my goggles and cap and started trying to unzip my wetsuit. Uh oh. Stuck. Stop trying and keep running. Try to unzip again while running. Stuck. This was frustrating. I looked for a volunteer to help me unzip all while still running toward transition. No volunteers. CRAP! Finally, I step to the side to try and use 2 hands to unzip the wetsuit. After struggling with it a few times, I was able to break the zipper free. I jumped back on the little carpet path toward transition and tried to run a little faster to make up the ground I had just lost.

I find my bike and see that my helmet and shoes have all been moved around. Apparently, some other athletes figured it was OK to use the space that was empty because of the biker that did not show who was supposed to rack next to me. First of all, it's not, it's a penalty...ask the guy who shoulda won Muncie. Second, if you're going to do that, DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!! I was ticked and I should've tossed those bags (there were 2 large backpacks) as far as I could have, but I only stopped to strip off the wetsuit, put on my socks (over very sandy, dirty feet), shoes, sunglasses, helmet and off I went. My sunglasses steamed up immediately and I had to take them back off. There were athletes practically lined up to get out of transition. The opening was a little narrow and there was nothing you could do except wait for the pack of athletes in front of you to move out of the way. This section was sandy, so it made for slow moving people.

The Mount line was also another fiasco. Athletes lined up as wide as the street struggling to get on their bikes. Remembering what CJB told me he did in another race, I ran about 10 feet past the mount line and then got on the bike. It worked. I was able to get on and get moving before a lot of people that were struggling to get clipped in. I was a little chilly as I started picking up speed, but this is pretty normal and I tried not to think about how cold my arms were.

The bike - well, I passed a lot of women, I was passed by a few women, I was passed by PACKS of men. And when I say packs, yes, they were drafting in packs. I mean, sometimes, it's hard NOT to draft when the course is so crowded, but then there's blatant drafting. Then I jockeyed back and forth with several women. I even jockeyed with this dude who kept blocking after he passed me. Very irritating. If I had the breath, I would've told him he needed new shorts. I could see his butt crack very clearly through the worn out bike shorts. I had to get in front of this guy...just don't like the scenery.

The course is a little hilly. Not much, but just rollers. Just enough for you to work your way to the top and get the heart rate up. Volunteers were very good about handing out the water and running along side you to pass it to you. Intersections were pretty well controlled. I tried to hammer. I knew where I wanted to be and at what time. Bike computer showed time, but no mileage or mph. I just had to use the mile markers on the course. It felt long. I didn't move around on the seat enough and I was uncomfortable. I wanted it to be over. And just when I thought I was going to just give up and coast in, I'd catch up to another woman and try to use her energy to keep me going. I can't tell if I slowed down or not, but I felt like I left it all out there. I mean, I wasn't running, so don't leave anything in the bank, right?

I crossed the line into T2 and started walking. Why rush? I tried to stay out of the way of other atheletes so they could have a quick T2 and make it out on to the run course. I racked the bike, changed my shoes and handed my ship to a guy in transition (I think he was the race director). As it turns out, since I didn't finish the whole race, they didn't publish any of my splits. I don't even show up as having raced. Depressing. I wasn't happy with the bike split, but after seeing the bike splits of the women pros, well, I see that I did better than I thought.

Biggest accomplishment: Skipping the run and opting to let myself heal. I've never been able to do that before. I'm still not 100%, but I'm a lot better off having skipped that 13.1 mile run.

And I think that will be the last time I ever do Steelhead.

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.

Half Iron Intimidation: Playtri Race Report

It is with dehydration and very tired legs that I write this report. I now know how very naive of me it was to think I could do this half ironman race just 6 days after the Boston Marathon. But for those of you that know me, I need instant gratification...I had already signed up for this half ironman before I qualified for Boston. I knew I couldn't wait until 2008 to run Boston. I just don't have that kind of patience.

We flew into Dallas on Saturday morning and headed immediately to the Expo (if you could call it an Expo). I knew this race was what I like to call "rinky dink," meaning small. I don't mean to put the race down, I kinda like rinky dink races. It's a nice change of pace from the mass chaos of an Ironman or Accenture with their thousands of participants. The Expo took less than 5 minutes to walk around the room to see what the vendors had to offer. The actual packet pick up was in another room. We met up with BC, Chuck and Lori and went into the packet pick up room. It was then I learned that I had been placed in the Elite wave. Um, what?

See, a few weeks ago, the organizers sent out an email offering an Elite Wave start. I asked what the qualifications were and the Elite Wave was for those athletes who had finished in the top 3 of their Age Group in a race of 400 or more participants (or some number like that). Since I didn't qualify for that, I never responded back, but apparently, they moved me into this wave anyway. I tried not to think about it.

We checked out the water - it was a man-made pond/lake sort of thing that wound around the commercial properties. It looked much further than 1.2 miles when I scoped it out. We then went back to the hotel to put on our bike gear and get out for a quick ride to make sure the bikes were working properly. The wind was unbelievable. I only hoped it wasn't going to be so bad for the race tomorrow. Everything seemed to be working just fine with Gus and even after a short run, my legs felt OK. Not terribly great, but I wasn't dying, either.

We were then joined by Pat and had a fabulous dinner at a pretty posh Italian place. The manager/owner or someone came up to us several times to make sure everything was OK with the meal. The first time he came up to us, I thought he was going to ask us to leave because of the way we were dressed! (for those of you that were at Terre Haute with me last year, I did NOT wear a hat to this dinner!!!)

Back to the hotel, I arranged the rest of my things for tomorrow's race. I put everything down on the table in the order I'd need it. We planned to ride over on our bikes in the morning, since we were only about a mile away from the race site. I set the alarm clock and also set the alarm on my phone. Never know when one of them is going to be screwed up! Although I knew I wasn't going to have a stellar performance the next day, nor did I expect one, I still was a bit nervous and got up every hour to look at the clock.

I was already awake when the alarm went off. I quietly made my Perpetuem/Hammer drink for the bike while I ate breakfast. Chuck came by one last time with the pump and very quickly, we made our way down to the hotel lobby. It was still a little dark out when we made our way to the race site. The air was cool, but the weather forecast said it was going to get up to 78 today. Normally, that's not so bad, but when you're from Chicago where the weather is about mid-40s this time of year, it can wreak havoc with your body's temperature gauge. I thought about all the clothes I had taken to Boston just 6 days before: winter hat, heavy windproof jacket, 3 pairs of gloves, wool socks, etc., and thought I might be setting myself up for pneumonia!

For this race, my bib was lucky number 13! I went to put my bike on the rack and I almost walked away. All the rest of the athletes on my rack were these really fit-looking male triathletes. I felt so out of my league. I had absolutely no business in this wave. I'm sure they were snickering behind my back like, hey, what's this chick doing here? I felt like such a poser! Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. Besides, I could probably give them a run for their money in the swim, or so I hoped.

I collected my timing chip and went through body marking. After a quick stop at the porta potty, I went back to transition to get some sunscreen. I knew I was probably going to bake in the Texas sun today. We moved over to hear the course talk and I saw Lauren Jensen...and she's in my wave! Aw, man! I thought Elite Wave meant "Elite Age Group Wave" not "Elite/Pro, I'm faster than God Wave." Crap. I really AM a poser! I have never felt more out-of-place. The announcer reminded us of how windy it was and that we should throw all time predictions out the window. Good. I didn't have one anyway. I was just going to ride how I felt and just hang on for dear life during the run.


The official called for all the Elite athletes to get in the water. Again, I felt a little stupid being in this wave, but what can I do now? I jumped in at the back of the pack and just stayed back. The water was cool and cleaner than I expected. We had about 2 minutes to go when the Saint took this shot. I'm 4th from the left. 5-4-3-2-1 and the race had started. (no National Anthem, bummer)

Within seconds, I was on top of the woman in front of me (a.k.a. a 50 year old Bo Derek). OK, I need to move around her...I swim a little bit and lose any sort of draft. I worked at my bilateral breathing and was thankful the sun was still hidden behind the clouds. I found myself sighting a lot. This was a narrow channel-like body of water and I was a little scared to get too close to the edges. That's where all the "icky" water is, at least that's where it is in my mind! We made the first turn and I saw a pack of swimmers that weren't making any ground on me. I knew that if I could get up and catch that draft, I'd be in a much better position, so I worked a little harder. Nothing too strenuous, but I could see I was getting closer. I reached the feet of the back of this pack before the half way point. I hung back there a while. The swimming felt very, very easy. Have I ever mentioned I'm a "draft-master?" I hit the feet of the person in front of me a few too many times. I was getting tired of picking my head up to make sure he was going the right way. (I think it was a he...if it was a she, her feet were way rough!) Then I got a little claustrophobic when someone on my left kept swimming off course and running into me. WTF, dude, why don't you take a look at the buoys and see that you're headed off course?

We make another turn and we're about 75% through with the swim. That's it, I need to get away from these people. Besides, I just knew all the really FAST swimmers were way up ahead! So I moved to the outside and used the energy I was saving from the draft to pull ahead of the pack....all of them. Uh oh, now I'm in front. I see no one ahead of me. Where was I supposed to get out of the water from? Shoot, I wish I would've paid attention during the course talk! I just kept pulling smoothly with each stroke and headed for the stairs...I think that was where we get out. I get to the stairs and start feeling around with my hands, but there is no stair in the water! The volunteers grab my arms and literally pull me out of the water. I run up the rest of the stairs, take off my cap and goggles and start running toward transition. Then guess who passes me...Lauren Jensen! Holy crap, I just beat her out of the water! Suh-WEEET!!!! The Saint yells out to me "Hey, nice swim!" and snaps this shot. I take advantage of the wetsuit strippers (they're usually only at Ironman distance races) and move on over to transition beside myself...that swim didn't even feel hard! The course must've been short.

I run into transition and toward my bike and spend much too much time in transition. I hear the announcer talk about Lauren being "2nd out on the bike", then another woman "3rd out on the bike"...I was finally ready and moved on out to the bike course..."4th out on the bike." That will stay in my mind forever as that may never happen again in my lifetime. I try to grab a drink and catch my breath and settle into a rhythym. I have NOT put in enough bike miles yet this year. Unless you spent a ton of time on the trainer, I don't think anyone in Chicago has gotten in a lot of miles. The weather hasn't exactly been cooperative.

The roads were smooth and flat, for the most part. The only hills to speak of were when we were on the overpasses, which didn't seem to be all that many. However, I became frustrated by the flow of traffic. The first sign would say "Bikes left, cars right." You'd make a turn, then it was "Cars left, bikes right." Very confusing. There were many turns. It was weird to be so far in the front of the race...many times, I could not see anyone in front of me and I'd wonder if I was going the wrong way. This was a 3 loop course and each way back, the wind was brutal. The sound of the wind in my ears was sometimes deafening. It was also a bit difficult to control the front wheel while in the aero position. Almost as bad as the Time Trial I did a few weeks ago...at least it was WARMER out here!

On the second loop, I had to actually stop and unclip to let some traffic go by. I don't think the volunteer saw me there until I yelled to her...she then stopped the traffic to let me cross. I had read on Slowtwitch to be careful of drivers as they weren't very cyclist-friendly. This was true. More than once, I had a driver turn out in front of me when I would've expected them to stop. At the intersections where officers were controlling traffic, I heard drivers beeping and officers yelling at them to stop. It was quite bizzare. Pat and Lori cheering me on for the 2nd and 3rd loop was a much needed boost! By the end of the second loop, BC had passed me, which I expected, and I really wanted to get off this bike. I was uncomfortable and my neck and shoulders were getting really tight. My time was much slower than I thought it would be, but the loop times were pretty consistent, so I didn't slow down much.

Myself and another female competitor nearly crashed as we were getting ready to dismount. There was a guy in front of us all over the street. She called "on your left" and the guy turned to the left! Come on, man! She and I laughed about it as we ran into transition. Of course, I came back to find ALL the bikes back on my rack, except mine. I'm not used to that and I didn't like it very much. Sorta depressing. I grabbed my Clif Shots, race number and visor and I was out of transition as fast as I could go.

Wow, my legs felt heavy. But, as any experience triathlete knows, that is usually just in your head and within a couple of miles, that feeling should go away and I'll be OK. Within the first mile, I could feel the tri top chafing me. Shoot, I forgot to bring Aquaphor! I got the first mile split, but then missed the next few. This really threw me off and I think it took me until mile 5 to really start to know what my run splits were. I asked for Vaseline/Body Glide at each aid station and came up empty. I kept adjusting the zipper on the tri top to prevent further chafing, but it wasn't working. My quads were hurting in a way they've never hurt before. It was a sharp, consistent pain that worsened as my foot hit the ground. That would last for about a quarter of a mile, then go away. It would come in one leg, then go away. Then it would be in both legs, then go away. The run was 2 loops and as I made my way in around the 6.5 mile mark, there were Pat and Lori again, cheering me on, telling me I look great...isn't that what people say to you when you look like crap but they're trying to encourage you? Come on Pat, tell the truth!

I headed back out for the second loop and hoped that pain in my legs would subside. One of the aid stations came up with some Neosporin which I slathered on my chest to stop the chafing. The sweat was stinging the chafed areas and the Neosporin gave me little relief. The wind would gust up to about 25 mph and it cooled me off each time. OK, it was a little stronger than I'd like, you just have to deal with the conditions. My legs were aching more now, but I refused to stop. I knew that if I stopped, I'd have to walk the rest of the course. I kept telling myself, "Come on, you ran an entire marathon, you shouldn't have to stop and walk in just 13 miles!" I accidentally dropped my last dose of salt tablets and tried to shrug that off. I had just 5 miles left, that shouldn't affect me much. I saw Chuck coming around when I had about 4 miles to go. In his first Half Ironman, he was looking spectacular! Now I started focusing on not letting him pass me!

But I couldn't go any faster. Each time my foot hit the pavement, a sharp pain went though my quad on the inside, just above the knee. I wondered if I was doing myself damage and if I should jus stop running. No, no...if the pain stays constant, then stop. Although the pain wasn't constant, it was there more than it was absent! But I stayed focused on the race and reminded myself that I was only 6 days off a marathon, OF COURSE my legs are going to hurt. There isn't a running expert in the world that would recommend doing a half ironman just 6 days after a marathon! DEAL WITH IT!

I neared the last mile and I could hear the announcer and the crowds cheering as people finished. As I got closer, I saw Pat, BC, Lori and the Saint, all on their feet, cheering me in. I tried to smile, but I wasn't feeling very smiley at that point. I crossed the finish line...THEN smiled. Quickly after that, I collapsed from cramping in my quads. Though I finished 2nd to last in the Elite Group, I'd say given the time of the year and being less than a week after a marathon, I'm quite happy with my results!