Enchanted Rock Extreme Duathlon 2010 race report.
This wasn't a race that I'd ever heard of, or yearned to do. Some time in the Fall, when I was firmly in marathon training, Matt said there was a duathlon at Enchanted Rock that a lot of Texas Iron people were doing, and he wanted to go out there, camp, and do the event. I couldn't really see beyond the Houston Marathon at that point, but I told him he was certainly welcome to do that, and I'd decide later, if it was still open. Two days after Houston, we revisited the topic, and I decided.. why the hell not? I love camping, I enjoy trail running, and the concept of running to the top of Enchanted Rock sounded.. well, ridiculous, but interesting!
So, yes. I signed up for my first duathlon, which consisted of a 5 mile trail run around the base of Enchanted Rock, a 16 mile road ride on hilly roads over many cattle guards, then a 1.2 mile run, which included running up to the top of Enchanted Rock. For those not familiar with ER, here's an idea of what we'd be running up:
Steep, slick rock, always very windy. Interesting!
Before
As this event approached, I had some dread. Firstly, this event is a combination of my weakest sports.. trail running and cycling. I love trail running, but I so rarely do it that I never really get any better at it. I typically trail run maybe 3 times a year, and generally at events. Perhaps non-ideal. And then cycling, but we all know how I feel about that. :)
So my goal was not to come in last! It's a relatively small event, and I knew a lot of the people signed up were strong athletes, so I just wanted to make sure I came in ahead of at least one person! (Texas Iron Sharon confessed she had the same goal, so I wasn't alone.) Doing some absolute worst case scenario back of the envelope calculations, I figured sub-3 would be pretty doable. I think that included a it-could-take-me-half-an-hour-to-run-the-mile-up-the-rock.
To make matters worse, Redemption Race Productions, who held the event, sent out copious mails, at least weekly, to tell us how much this race was going to suck. That it would be inconvenient, uncomfortable, no frills, and we should expect nothing. To quote:
The logistics of this race are going to be extremely tough for you. You will have to drop off your bike and then park a 1/2 mile away and then walk a trail to the race site. Remember NO WHINING, consider this race as an adventure.
So, if you are looking to get catered to and pampered this is the WRONG race for you. Just finishing this race has bragging rights so get ready.
I figured.. hey, if they're not beating us with tire irons as we race, I'll consider it a win! So that was where I was going into the weekend. :)
That morning
Racing is more complicated when you're camping. You settle into all these routines when you race, and even just staying in a hotel throws off your game. So tent-camping means you have to figure out pre-race dinner, breakfast, sleeping, alarm clock, etc all over again. Which is why I was sitting in a sleeping bag, on a mostly-deflated air mattress, at 5am in 45ish degree weather, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the dark.
Got undressed and dressed while in that same sleeping bag, and seriously began to rethink my intention to wear a sleeveless tri top, given the temperature. So I put on arm warmers and a fleece shirt, and figured I'd decide later what I'd race in. Packed up my bag (by lantern-light), mounted my bike, and followed Jamie and Matt, in the dark, on a half mile ride down the highway to the race start, by the light of my headlamp. While wearing trail shoes and standing on my clipless pedals, which was very awkward. It WAS incredibly convenient to be camping at the race venue, since we didn't have to deal with the bike dropoff and car hassle.
Arrived, racked my bike, and set up my transition area. Which took about 0.005 seconds. Turns out, if you remove the swim, it reduces the Stuff factor by about 500%. Bike on rack, helmet on handlebars, pair of bike shoes on the ground.. done. Then down to the start area to pick up chips and get bodymarked. My bodymarker had bad handwriting and used the very tip of the sharpie to etch my age into my calf. Ow.
Then standing around, shivering, and waiting. The race director made some announcements, but I really couldn't hear him, except the part where he recommended not hurting oneself when one got to the top of the rock, since getting airlifted down would cost you $10k. Right. Noted. I ate a gu, relinquished my warm shirt to Leary, who was spectating and generously offered to play shirt-sherpa, decided for sure to keep my arm warmers on, and followed the crowd to the "start line". The start clod. Since it was a gun start, no timing mat, just a trail head. I lined up next to Jennifer (who was doing her first trail run) and Vicki, since we're all pretty compatible, run-speed-wise. We were lined up near the back, not really knowing what to expect or how we compared, and erring on the side of slow. And then.. we were off.
Run 5 miles around the base of Enchanted Rock
When I first heard what the race was, I was aghast at the thought of running up Enchanted Rock. Then I figured.. eh, that's going to suck, but it'll be interesting. So then I was concerned about the bike, because it's my weakest sport, and how do I pace myself with a run on either side? The thing I was least concerned about was the first run.. until people went out on Friday and pre-ran the course. And came back to tell us about it, using just a single word. "Hilly". And knowing I still had a bike and run that I'd already freaked out about afterward? Yikes. So on race morning, my biggest fear was the first run. I'm dynamic.
So we start running, and the first mile or so is just trying to settle into where we need to be, pace-wise. Passed a few folks, got passed by a few, and then we were in our place. There was some congestion getting down a ledge and then over a water crossing with stepping stones, and we had to walk a couple steps in there, but mostly it was good. The first mile beeped on my Garmin, and it had seemed to go quickly.
Except my legs were exhausted. During the LBJ ride, I had felt the soreness from the time trial on Thursday. Now I could feel the soreness from the time trial AND the LBJ ride. My quads, hamstrings and calves were all very fatigued and sore. This became even more obvious during the next mile, which was pretty much all uphill. This was the uphill the pre-runners had warned about. Exhausting, but manageable with a lot of heavy breathing. And pulling my armwarmers down to my wrists, because we heated up fast (which is a really fantastic leg-warmer-inspired look, it turns out).
Also, despite all the gloom and doom from the race emails, this event was actually really well run and supported. I was expecting no water on the first run, and we came across two water stops, with water handups. And the trail was actually pretty darn easy compared to what I was expecting (I mean, aside from the hills).. it was mostly jeep trails, similar to the Town Lake Trail, with only a few technical parts scattered throughout. And every mile or so, we'd come across one or two folks on the side of the trail who were presumably there to help anyone in trouble. Not sure if they were park rangers or medical folks or both or one of each or what, but presumably if anyone fell or was in distress, they'd help out. So really well supported out there.
The miles were clicking by fairly quickly, and we felt strong. What goes up must come down, and as we got into the downhill parts, TriZones Stacey came flying past us, calling out her love of downhills. All that trail running she's been doing has obviously paid off, since she was quickly out of sight!
We'd been warned that there were 4 or 5 water crossings, but they all had stepping stones or were narrow, so wetfoot avoidable, except the last one, which was about 3/4 of a mile from the end, making it extra insult-to-injury (having made it that far, only to get wet at the end). Each crossing, Jennifer would say "Maybe this is it.." as we made our way across dry, and we said we were pretty sure if our feet weren't WET wet, it wasn't it. And sure enough, shortly after the Garmin beeped for mile 4, a water crossing that you couldn't jump across. Splashed through two sets of ankle-deep water, then through a short, single-track technical section. Jennifer took the lead for that part (she found it entertaining that we let the first-time trail runner lead), and, as we often seem to do, picked up the pace, because she was afraid that she was holding us back. I panted to her that just because she was leading didn't mean she needed to sprint, and she thanked me for pointing that out and slowed down. It's funny how leading makes you paranoid like that. We were making good time, though, feeling strong, feeling how close we were to being done with the first section.
Then we seemed to emerge from the woods, and there was transition! We hadn't realized we were THAT close. Of course, to get to transition, we had to run up these awful wooden stairs (very close together, so they required mincing, especially for people with .. legs; not as much for me). But then into transition, and done with the first leg of my first duathlon, feeling pretty good!
T1
I knew my transitions wouldn't be impressive, and I was okay with that. I wasn't willing to put Yankz or quicklaces in my trail shoes, so there would be untying and later retying. And the parking lot area was all loose gravel, so I didn't want to run through that without my shoes on, so no flying mount.
So I just swapped shoes, swapped hats, and ran my bike out of transition shortly behind Jennifer and Vicki. Over a cattleguard, which is kinda scary to walk over (but they had it carpeted so it was a little less treacherous, even though the carpet was all bowed between the slats), across the mount line, and onto the bike.
Ride 16 miles
Started riding, and my legs felt pretty okay. I spun them out and passed Jennifer and Vicki, ate a gu, and settled into my aerobars for the 8 miles out, feeling good. Shortly thereafter, Jennifer and then Vicki passed me back, flying by. I tried to stay near them, but I very quickly fell behind, and then they were out of visual range. Darn. No rabbits. And suddenly things weren't feeling so easy anymore.
But I just kept spinning and trying to keep my head in a good place. Hills and cattleguards were my companions. And cows! There were tons of cows there. Apparently the cows were actually out in the road before I went by (people had to swerve around them), but by the time I got there, they were all in the fields again. And they were very moo-y. I've never heard so much mooing from a group of cows. I mooed back. And chatted with them some. Yes, one can chat with cows while still racing. Shut up. I had to get through this SOMEhow.
Passed some folks on the way out, including leapfrogging Stacey again. Cheering for her, and cheering for the folks who were starting to come back from the out and back, gave me a nice boost. Matt looked incredibly strong on the bike, and was well-placed.
I kept looking at my computer, wishing it was closer to 8 miles, where the turnaround should be. Not a good sign, when I'm staring at the numbers that early. But I hit 6.. 7.. and finally saw Scott coming back, who had been just ahead out of us out of the run (but can ride much faster than me), so I knew it had to be getting closer. Then over a ridge, and there was the dead end/turn around, and Jennifer and Vicki heading back. Downhill, cattleguard, sharp u-turn, then uphill across the cattleguard, having lost all momentum in the u-turn. Urg. But hey, halfway done with the bike, which was my next landmark!
So now I was heading back in, which was a minor boost. I saw Sharon coming out, and knew she'd pass me shortly, since she's such a strong rider. A bit later, I saw Lori, and she's a strong rider, too, but was far enough back behind me that it became my goal not to let her catch me before the end of the bike. When Sharon did pass me, I pointed out to her that neither of us were in any danger of ending up in last place, and we cheered. And it was true.. there were plenty of people still coming out as I headed back in. I cheered for those that I knew, and for some that I didn't who looked like they needed it. And the miles very slowly ticked down. Very slowly. Because I was slowing down.
I realized I needed to eat something, and popped a Luna Moon in my mouth. It was basically like a rock. A sticky rock. The cold weather had hardened it until it was basically unchewable. I spent the next 20 minutes just trying to soften it enough to actually eat it, drooling attractively as it got completely stuck in my molars and I feared for the fate of my fillings. Then it all got lodged between my bottom teeth and my bottom lip, and I had to scrape it out, and finally just swallowed it, and said "No more Luna Moons." (After the race, I told Matt about that, and handed him one to show how hard they were. He popped it in his mouth, then ate the rest of them, even after I pointed out he was totally eating Chick Food.)
The last 2 miles or so were hilly and windy. The headwind we'd known would be an issue showed up in full force, and combined with the wind and my incredibly tired legs, things got kinda mentally low at the end. I was getting incredibly frustrated at first, because I couldn't figure out why I was pushing so hard and going so slow. I was ready to stop and see if my rear tire was flat again. But then I noticed the people ahead of me, who were pushing just as hard and I was gaining on them. That's when I realized it was hillier and windier than I was giving myself credit for. My snail's pace actually got me past several of those people, including one guy massaging his left calf while riding, obviously cramping up and just trying to make it the last mile to the end. (I imagine his calf wasn't too happy that he celebrated making it to the end of the bike by running up Enchanted Rock.)
With a mile to go, I realized that one Luna Moon wasn't going to cut it for nutrition, so I spent most of the mile trying to work up the energy to get out a Gu and open it and actually eat it. I finished it up right as I came over a ridge and saw the dismount line. I almost cried, I was so happy to see transition again. I didn't even really consider a shoeless dismount, for the same reasons I hadn't done the shoeless mount. Unclipped at the line, swung a stiff leg over, back over the scary cattleguard, and back into transition.
T2
A very spastic T2. I racked my bike, took off one shoe, almost fell over grabbing my still-wet trail shoe, jammed it on, thanked the volunteer just outside transition for complimenting my bike, swapped out the other shoe, remembered at the last minute to exchange helmet for hat, and headed for where we'd come in from the first run, figuring that had to be where we left again. As I ran out, Stacey and I exchanged another cheer as she rolled in right behind me.
Run 1.2 miles up to the top of Enchanted Rock
The volunteer at the timing mat said to go back down the (accursed wooden) stairs. A volunteer at the top of the stairs said to take a left at the bottom. This was very poorly marked and attended, and I really had no idea if I was going the right way. Ended up back next to the portapotties at the start line, and, lacking any other guidance, jumped back onto the trail head we'd started at, and repeated the first part of the race, hoping I was doing the right thing. My left foot, after having ridden 16 miles in wet socks, was basically asleep from toes to midfoot, and running felt very awkward at first. After about half a mile, though, it warmed up, and my legs and feet actually felt pretty okay, considering.
At the first water crossing, there was a hiking (not-involved-in-the-race) couple who were coming down to the water from the other side. There's really only one place to cross on the stones (at the beginning of the race, some people went off to the side, but they were taller people with a longer leg-reach than me), and they definitely saw me before they started crossing. If *I* were to see someone with a number, obviously racing, having presumably just been passed by other people obviously racing, and this person needed to cross the water.. I'd maybe let said racer go first. They didn't see it my way. They leisurely hopped across the stones while I stood on the other side and tried not to look like I was trying to set them on figure with my glare alone. Once they were across, I resumed running, crossed, and went on my way. (Okay, it was maybe 10 seconds delay, but still! I would have let me go first.)
As I crossed the water again at the funky concrete bridge, there were folks with numbers gingerly wading into the water for a cold soak. They ignored me. I would have cheered for me. Apparently I'm judgmental at the end of a duathlon.
At the gazebo at the base of the rock, there were volunteers handing out water. If we didn't have our own water (I didn't), we were required to carry a bottle of water up to the top. Liability, I'm sure. So I grabbed a bottle and headed to the rock. Which looked really tall, and the people at the top very small. But that damn rock was the only thing standing between me and Done.
Pretty easy run into the boulder section, where I encountered a very confused-looking Vicki coming in from the wrong way, muttering something about a wrong turn. We ran up and found Jamie at the entrance to the boulders. He said to be careful through the boulders, cross the timing mat, then unleash hell for the King of the Hill competition. A little sub-game of the duathlon was a competition for the fastest man and woman to run the last, steepest portion of the hill. I was all charged up! Crossed the mat! Passed Vicki! Ran up the hill! Then.. walked. Because it was just way too damned steep to run. I hadn't had a plan for this portion.. I didn't know if I could run it or if I'd have to walk it, but it basically just took care of itself. The parts that flatted out a bit, I'd run. Most of it, I walked. An aggressive walk. A walk where I actually passed several people who were attempting to run. But a walk, nonetheless. If I tried to come up on my toes at all to run, my calves said "Hey, we were considering cramping! Keep doing that, and you'll make our decision much easier!" The incline was such that you could easily put your hands out in front of you and crawl for some of it. A smarter thing to do would be to zig zag horizontally more, and when I did that, I could actually sorta run, but my brain didn't work well enough to remember to do that, so I went for the brute force, straight up, calf-annihilating method most of the time.
And strangely enough.. it seemed to go pretty quickly. After what seemed a short time, I looked up and could see the top. And could hear people cheering for me. A group of Texas Iron folks were sitting near the top cheering me in, and then Matt was running down to meet me. He walked beside me (I was firmly in Walk Mode at that point/incline) and said encouraging things. He told me to veer to the left (you couldn't see the finish line at that point), and that I was doing great, looked strong, was awesome, did I want him to stop talking and leave me alone? I assured him that I didn't want to kill or hit him, that I was actually in a great place mentally, but I just could not physically run when it was that steep, and that he was welcome to stay with me and say encouraging things. So he did, we power walked, and suddenly I could see the finish flags. Right then it started to flatten out as we neared the top, and I could start running again. I triumphantly began my sprint (uh.. "sprint") to the finish line (a single guy holding up two flags), and immediately almost face planted as I tried to put my foot in a sinkhole. Managed to leap over that at the last minute, and then made it unmolested to the finishguy! And immediately slammed on the brakes, because I was afraid I was about to run right over the other side of the rock.
Yay! My first duathlon completed!
After
Cheered in Vicki and Stacey, who were right behind me, then went down the rock a bit to cheer in the rest of our folks and enjoy the view. And drink my bottle of water, which had remained unopened the whole climb, since it's hard to climb and drink at the same time. We were down the rock a bit because it's always windy at the top, and once you stop running, it gets cold again. Fortunately I still had my arm warmers puddled down at my wrists, so I pulled those back up, and sherpaLeary came by just then with our shirts, so I warmed back up. Matt, insane guy that he is, ran back DOWN the rock, because he hadn't had enough after finishing a half hour faster than I did. When we'd cheered everyone else in, we gingerly WALKED back down the rock, thanking the ranger/med people who were positioned up the climb, who I hadn't even noticed on the way up. And as we descended, we calculated whether we could yet afford to hurt ourselves and be airlifted out. About halfway, I said I could probably afford the $5k, if they took credit cards. Near the bottom, we figured it would be an affordable $150 or so.
A hike back through the beginning of the course, back to the start line, where they had posted preliminary results. Jennifer's calf said 39, so I was thinking she was in my age group, and had finished before me, so I told her to check the results and see if she did our age group proud. Then I remembered that, with USAT rules, she aged up into 40-44, so wasn't in my age group. So I glanced over at the results, and couldn't make sense of them. Someone said I'd come in first in my age group, but that seemed SO unlikely as to be preposterous. Plus, the third run splits weren't even up there yet, so there was no way to know for sure. I thought it looked like I'd maybe placed 3rd in my AG at best, and decided not to worry about it, and just see what happened at the award ceremony.
Engaged in some post-race food (they were opening little minibags of fritos and ladling chili inside, for hysterical bags of frito pie) (of which I partook, of course) (I wanted Matt to grab one of the mini bags of cheetos, and see if they'd make him a cheeto pie, but he wouldn't do it). Split some oreos with Jennifer. Lounged in the grass in the sun with Stacey and the Texas Iron gang and sherpas (which was fabulous, and I easily could have napped away the afternoon there).
Then it was time for awards, which were pretty dominated by the large A&M crowd, and by Texas Iron. And sure enough.. I won my age group! (And, for the record, there was more than just me in my age group! Not a ton.. but some!) First age group win! Whee! I went up to the front, and there was a lady standing next to a table full of granitey, marbley awards, and she said to pick one. I glanced at them, saw that there were two pretty ones, one of which seemed to say 2009 and one 2010, so I grabbed the one that said 2010. And some other random, inaccurate stuff. I'm not sure what the story with the awards was, but I have a random pretty one!
Then we packed up our stuff (again, much easier to do in a duathlon), hopped back on the bike with non-clippable trail shoes, and rode back down the highway to the main entrance, and back to camp to pack up and head home.
Results
Long run: 0:46:52 (3rd in Age Group), 9:22 pace
T1: 0:57.2 (1st in AG)
Bike: 1:00:25.7 (1st in AG), 15.9 mph
T2: 1:03.8 (1st in AG)
Short run: 0:15:23.0 (1st in AG), 12:18 pace
Total: 2:04:42.1 (1st in AG, 71st overall)
Really happy with that first run, especially given the hilliness and the tiredness of my legs. I don't think I could have kept that pace without Jennifer and Vicki there, and it was much more fun with company. Trail paces are always slower than road paces, and one of our miles was an 8:58, so yay, us! And yet, even though that's probably where I felt the best, that only got me 3rd in my age group.
The bike, where I felt awful, got me 1st in my age group. Looking at the results, it looks like a lot of people struggled on the bike. So I was in good company!
And the final run, all bets are off on pace. But the part that I'm most pleased with is the King of the Hill competition. Even with all my walking and suffering, I was 6th of 47 women in King of the Hill! I credit Jamie telling me to unleash hell, even if I didn't feel like I did in any way.
And since he never writes up his own stuff, I'll brag on Matt here, too. He was also 6th in his gender for King of the Hill, which is MUCH more competitive than the women. He just barely missed placing in his age group, presumably due to being in the same age group with his COACH, who he actually beat on the bike. He's kinda amazing, that husband of mine. And.. then he ran down Enchanted Rock, because he could.
The End
I didn't think this was an event I'd want to do again, and during the bike, I probably still didn't want to. In hindsight, though, I've become quite fond of this race. It's so ridiculous that it's fun, and now that I'm a few days away from it, I'd say I'll definitely do it again. Good idea, Matt!
So, yes. I signed up for my first duathlon, which consisted of a 5 mile trail run around the base of Enchanted Rock, a 16 mile road ride on hilly roads over many cattle guards, then a 1.2 mile run, which included running up to the top of Enchanted Rock. For those not familiar with ER, here's an idea of what we'd be running up:
Steep, slick rock, always very windy. Interesting!
Before
As this event approached, I had some dread. Firstly, this event is a combination of my weakest sports.. trail running and cycling. I love trail running, but I so rarely do it that I never really get any better at it. I typically trail run maybe 3 times a year, and generally at events. Perhaps non-ideal. And then cycling, but we all know how I feel about that. :)
So my goal was not to come in last! It's a relatively small event, and I knew a lot of the people signed up were strong athletes, so I just wanted to make sure I came in ahead of at least one person! (Texas Iron Sharon confessed she had the same goal, so I wasn't alone.) Doing some absolute worst case scenario back of the envelope calculations, I figured sub-3 would be pretty doable. I think that included a it-could-take-me-half-an-hour-to-run-the-mile-up-the-rock.
To make matters worse, Redemption Race Productions, who held the event, sent out copious mails, at least weekly, to tell us how much this race was going to suck. That it would be inconvenient, uncomfortable, no frills, and we should expect nothing. To quote:
The logistics of this race are going to be extremely tough for you. You will have to drop off your bike and then park a 1/2 mile away and then walk a trail to the race site. Remember NO WHINING, consider this race as an adventure.
So, if you are looking to get catered to and pampered this is the WRONG race for you. Just finishing this race has bragging rights so get ready.
I figured.. hey, if they're not beating us with tire irons as we race, I'll consider it a win! So that was where I was going into the weekend. :)
That morning
Racing is more complicated when you're camping. You settle into all these routines when you race, and even just staying in a hotel throws off your game. So tent-camping means you have to figure out pre-race dinner, breakfast, sleeping, alarm clock, etc all over again. Which is why I was sitting in a sleeping bag, on a mostly-deflated air mattress, at 5am in 45ish degree weather, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the dark.
Got undressed and dressed while in that same sleeping bag, and seriously began to rethink my intention to wear a sleeveless tri top, given the temperature. So I put on arm warmers and a fleece shirt, and figured I'd decide later what I'd race in. Packed up my bag (by lantern-light), mounted my bike, and followed Jamie and Matt, in the dark, on a half mile ride down the highway to the race start, by the light of my headlamp. While wearing trail shoes and standing on my clipless pedals, which was very awkward. It WAS incredibly convenient to be camping at the race venue, since we didn't have to deal with the bike dropoff and car hassle.
Arrived, racked my bike, and set up my transition area. Which took about 0.005 seconds. Turns out, if you remove the swim, it reduces the Stuff factor by about 500%. Bike on rack, helmet on handlebars, pair of bike shoes on the ground.. done. Then down to the start area to pick up chips and get bodymarked. My bodymarker had bad handwriting and used the very tip of the sharpie to etch my age into my calf. Ow.
Then standing around, shivering, and waiting. The race director made some announcements, but I really couldn't hear him, except the part where he recommended not hurting oneself when one got to the top of the rock, since getting airlifted down would cost you $10k. Right. Noted. I ate a gu, relinquished my warm shirt to Leary, who was spectating and generously offered to play shirt-sherpa, decided for sure to keep my arm warmers on, and followed the crowd to the "start line". The start clod. Since it was a gun start, no timing mat, just a trail head. I lined up next to Jennifer (who was doing her first trail run) and Vicki, since we're all pretty compatible, run-speed-wise. We were lined up near the back, not really knowing what to expect or how we compared, and erring on the side of slow. And then.. we were off.
Run 5 miles around the base of Enchanted Rock
When I first heard what the race was, I was aghast at the thought of running up Enchanted Rock. Then I figured.. eh, that's going to suck, but it'll be interesting. So then I was concerned about the bike, because it's my weakest sport, and how do I pace myself with a run on either side? The thing I was least concerned about was the first run.. until people went out on Friday and pre-ran the course. And came back to tell us about it, using just a single word. "Hilly". And knowing I still had a bike and run that I'd already freaked out about afterward? Yikes. So on race morning, my biggest fear was the first run. I'm dynamic.
So we start running, and the first mile or so is just trying to settle into where we need to be, pace-wise. Passed a few folks, got passed by a few, and then we were in our place. There was some congestion getting down a ledge and then over a water crossing with stepping stones, and we had to walk a couple steps in there, but mostly it was good. The first mile beeped on my Garmin, and it had seemed to go quickly.
Except my legs were exhausted. During the LBJ ride, I had felt the soreness from the time trial on Thursday. Now I could feel the soreness from the time trial AND the LBJ ride. My quads, hamstrings and calves were all very fatigued and sore. This became even more obvious during the next mile, which was pretty much all uphill. This was the uphill the pre-runners had warned about. Exhausting, but manageable with a lot of heavy breathing. And pulling my armwarmers down to my wrists, because we heated up fast (which is a really fantastic leg-warmer-inspired look, it turns out).
Also, despite all the gloom and doom from the race emails, this event was actually really well run and supported. I was expecting no water on the first run, and we came across two water stops, with water handups. And the trail was actually pretty darn easy compared to what I was expecting (I mean, aside from the hills).. it was mostly jeep trails, similar to the Town Lake Trail, with only a few technical parts scattered throughout. And every mile or so, we'd come across one or two folks on the side of the trail who were presumably there to help anyone in trouble. Not sure if they were park rangers or medical folks or both or one of each or what, but presumably if anyone fell or was in distress, they'd help out. So really well supported out there.
The miles were clicking by fairly quickly, and we felt strong. What goes up must come down, and as we got into the downhill parts, TriZones Stacey came flying past us, calling out her love of downhills. All that trail running she's been doing has obviously paid off, since she was quickly out of sight!
We'd been warned that there were 4 or 5 water crossings, but they all had stepping stones or were narrow, so wetfoot avoidable, except the last one, which was about 3/4 of a mile from the end, making it extra insult-to-injury (having made it that far, only to get wet at the end). Each crossing, Jennifer would say "Maybe this is it.." as we made our way across dry, and we said we were pretty sure if our feet weren't WET wet, it wasn't it. And sure enough, shortly after the Garmin beeped for mile 4, a water crossing that you couldn't jump across. Splashed through two sets of ankle-deep water, then through a short, single-track technical section. Jennifer took the lead for that part (she found it entertaining that we let the first-time trail runner lead), and, as we often seem to do, picked up the pace, because she was afraid that she was holding us back. I panted to her that just because she was leading didn't mean she needed to sprint, and she thanked me for pointing that out and slowed down. It's funny how leading makes you paranoid like that. We were making good time, though, feeling strong, feeling how close we were to being done with the first section.
Then we seemed to emerge from the woods, and there was transition! We hadn't realized we were THAT close. Of course, to get to transition, we had to run up these awful wooden stairs (very close together, so they required mincing, especially for people with .. legs; not as much for me). But then into transition, and done with the first leg of my first duathlon, feeling pretty good!
T1
I knew my transitions wouldn't be impressive, and I was okay with that. I wasn't willing to put Yankz or quicklaces in my trail shoes, so there would be untying and later retying. And the parking lot area was all loose gravel, so I didn't want to run through that without my shoes on, so no flying mount.
So I just swapped shoes, swapped hats, and ran my bike out of transition shortly behind Jennifer and Vicki. Over a cattleguard, which is kinda scary to walk over (but they had it carpeted so it was a little less treacherous, even though the carpet was all bowed between the slats), across the mount line, and onto the bike.
Ride 16 miles
Started riding, and my legs felt pretty okay. I spun them out and passed Jennifer and Vicki, ate a gu, and settled into my aerobars for the 8 miles out, feeling good. Shortly thereafter, Jennifer and then Vicki passed me back, flying by. I tried to stay near them, but I very quickly fell behind, and then they were out of visual range. Darn. No rabbits. And suddenly things weren't feeling so easy anymore.
But I just kept spinning and trying to keep my head in a good place. Hills and cattleguards were my companions. And cows! There were tons of cows there. Apparently the cows were actually out in the road before I went by (people had to swerve around them), but by the time I got there, they were all in the fields again. And they were very moo-y. I've never heard so much mooing from a group of cows. I mooed back. And chatted with them some. Yes, one can chat with cows while still racing. Shut up. I had to get through this SOMEhow.
Passed some folks on the way out, including leapfrogging Stacey again. Cheering for her, and cheering for the folks who were starting to come back from the out and back, gave me a nice boost. Matt looked incredibly strong on the bike, and was well-placed.
I kept looking at my computer, wishing it was closer to 8 miles, where the turnaround should be. Not a good sign, when I'm staring at the numbers that early. But I hit 6.. 7.. and finally saw Scott coming back, who had been just ahead out of us out of the run (but can ride much faster than me), so I knew it had to be getting closer. Then over a ridge, and there was the dead end/turn around, and Jennifer and Vicki heading back. Downhill, cattleguard, sharp u-turn, then uphill across the cattleguard, having lost all momentum in the u-turn. Urg. But hey, halfway done with the bike, which was my next landmark!
So now I was heading back in, which was a minor boost. I saw Sharon coming out, and knew she'd pass me shortly, since she's such a strong rider. A bit later, I saw Lori, and she's a strong rider, too, but was far enough back behind me that it became my goal not to let her catch me before the end of the bike. When Sharon did pass me, I pointed out to her that neither of us were in any danger of ending up in last place, and we cheered. And it was true.. there were plenty of people still coming out as I headed back in. I cheered for those that I knew, and for some that I didn't who looked like they needed it. And the miles very slowly ticked down. Very slowly. Because I was slowing down.
I realized I needed to eat something, and popped a Luna Moon in my mouth. It was basically like a rock. A sticky rock. The cold weather had hardened it until it was basically unchewable. I spent the next 20 minutes just trying to soften it enough to actually eat it, drooling attractively as it got completely stuck in my molars and I feared for the fate of my fillings. Then it all got lodged between my bottom teeth and my bottom lip, and I had to scrape it out, and finally just swallowed it, and said "No more Luna Moons." (After the race, I told Matt about that, and handed him one to show how hard they were. He popped it in his mouth, then ate the rest of them, even after I pointed out he was totally eating Chick Food.)
The last 2 miles or so were hilly and windy. The headwind we'd known would be an issue showed up in full force, and combined with the wind and my incredibly tired legs, things got kinda mentally low at the end. I was getting incredibly frustrated at first, because I couldn't figure out why I was pushing so hard and going so slow. I was ready to stop and see if my rear tire was flat again. But then I noticed the people ahead of me, who were pushing just as hard and I was gaining on them. That's when I realized it was hillier and windier than I was giving myself credit for. My snail's pace actually got me past several of those people, including one guy massaging his left calf while riding, obviously cramping up and just trying to make it the last mile to the end. (I imagine his calf wasn't too happy that he celebrated making it to the end of the bike by running up Enchanted Rock.)
With a mile to go, I realized that one Luna Moon wasn't going to cut it for nutrition, so I spent most of the mile trying to work up the energy to get out a Gu and open it and actually eat it. I finished it up right as I came over a ridge and saw the dismount line. I almost cried, I was so happy to see transition again. I didn't even really consider a shoeless dismount, for the same reasons I hadn't done the shoeless mount. Unclipped at the line, swung a stiff leg over, back over the scary cattleguard, and back into transition.
T2
A very spastic T2. I racked my bike, took off one shoe, almost fell over grabbing my still-wet trail shoe, jammed it on, thanked the volunteer just outside transition for complimenting my bike, swapped out the other shoe, remembered at the last minute to exchange helmet for hat, and headed for where we'd come in from the first run, figuring that had to be where we left again. As I ran out, Stacey and I exchanged another cheer as she rolled in right behind me.
Run 1.2 miles up to the top of Enchanted Rock
The volunteer at the timing mat said to go back down the (accursed wooden) stairs. A volunteer at the top of the stairs said to take a left at the bottom. This was very poorly marked and attended, and I really had no idea if I was going the right way. Ended up back next to the portapotties at the start line, and, lacking any other guidance, jumped back onto the trail head we'd started at, and repeated the first part of the race, hoping I was doing the right thing. My left foot, after having ridden 16 miles in wet socks, was basically asleep from toes to midfoot, and running felt very awkward at first. After about half a mile, though, it warmed up, and my legs and feet actually felt pretty okay, considering.
At the first water crossing, there was a hiking (not-involved-in-the-race) couple who were coming down to the water from the other side. There's really only one place to cross on the stones (at the beginning of the race, some people went off to the side, but they were taller people with a longer leg-reach than me), and they definitely saw me before they started crossing. If *I* were to see someone with a number, obviously racing, having presumably just been passed by other people obviously racing, and this person needed to cross the water.. I'd maybe let said racer go first. They didn't see it my way. They leisurely hopped across the stones while I stood on the other side and tried not to look like I was trying to set them on figure with my glare alone. Once they were across, I resumed running, crossed, and went on my way. (Okay, it was maybe 10 seconds delay, but still! I would have let me go first.)
As I crossed the water again at the funky concrete bridge, there were folks with numbers gingerly wading into the water for a cold soak. They ignored me. I would have cheered for me. Apparently I'm judgmental at the end of a duathlon.
At the gazebo at the base of the rock, there were volunteers handing out water. If we didn't have our own water (I didn't), we were required to carry a bottle of water up to the top. Liability, I'm sure. So I grabbed a bottle and headed to the rock. Which looked really tall, and the people at the top very small. But that damn rock was the only thing standing between me and Done.
Pretty easy run into the boulder section, where I encountered a very confused-looking Vicki coming in from the wrong way, muttering something about a wrong turn. We ran up and found Jamie at the entrance to the boulders. He said to be careful through the boulders, cross the timing mat, then unleash hell for the King of the Hill competition. A little sub-game of the duathlon was a competition for the fastest man and woman to run the last, steepest portion of the hill. I was all charged up! Crossed the mat! Passed Vicki! Ran up the hill! Then.. walked. Because it was just way too damned steep to run. I hadn't had a plan for this portion.. I didn't know if I could run it or if I'd have to walk it, but it basically just took care of itself. The parts that flatted out a bit, I'd run. Most of it, I walked. An aggressive walk. A walk where I actually passed several people who were attempting to run. But a walk, nonetheless. If I tried to come up on my toes at all to run, my calves said "Hey, we were considering cramping! Keep doing that, and you'll make our decision much easier!" The incline was such that you could easily put your hands out in front of you and crawl for some of it. A smarter thing to do would be to zig zag horizontally more, and when I did that, I could actually sorta run, but my brain didn't work well enough to remember to do that, so I went for the brute force, straight up, calf-annihilating method most of the time.
And strangely enough.. it seemed to go pretty quickly. After what seemed a short time, I looked up and could see the top. And could hear people cheering for me. A group of Texas Iron folks were sitting near the top cheering me in, and then Matt was running down to meet me. He walked beside me (I was firmly in Walk Mode at that point/incline) and said encouraging things. He told me to veer to the left (you couldn't see the finish line at that point), and that I was doing great, looked strong, was awesome, did I want him to stop talking and leave me alone? I assured him that I didn't want to kill or hit him, that I was actually in a great place mentally, but I just could not physically run when it was that steep, and that he was welcome to stay with me and say encouraging things. So he did, we power walked, and suddenly I could see the finish flags. Right then it started to flatten out as we neared the top, and I could start running again. I triumphantly began my sprint (uh.. "sprint") to the finish line (a single guy holding up two flags), and immediately almost face planted as I tried to put my foot in a sinkhole. Managed to leap over that at the last minute, and then made it unmolested to the finishguy! And immediately slammed on the brakes, because I was afraid I was about to run right over the other side of the rock.
Yay! My first duathlon completed!
After
Cheered in Vicki and Stacey, who were right behind me, then went down the rock a bit to cheer in the rest of our folks and enjoy the view. And drink my bottle of water, which had remained unopened the whole climb, since it's hard to climb and drink at the same time. We were down the rock a bit because it's always windy at the top, and once you stop running, it gets cold again. Fortunately I still had my arm warmers puddled down at my wrists, so I pulled those back up, and sherpaLeary came by just then with our shirts, so I warmed back up. Matt, insane guy that he is, ran back DOWN the rock, because he hadn't had enough after finishing a half hour faster than I did. When we'd cheered everyone else in, we gingerly WALKED back down the rock, thanking the ranger/med people who were positioned up the climb, who I hadn't even noticed on the way up. And as we descended, we calculated whether we could yet afford to hurt ourselves and be airlifted out. About halfway, I said I could probably afford the $5k, if they took credit cards. Near the bottom, we figured it would be an affordable $150 or so.
A hike back through the beginning of the course, back to the start line, where they had posted preliminary results. Jennifer's calf said 39, so I was thinking she was in my age group, and had finished before me, so I told her to check the results and see if she did our age group proud. Then I remembered that, with USAT rules, she aged up into 40-44, so wasn't in my age group. So I glanced over at the results, and couldn't make sense of them. Someone said I'd come in first in my age group, but that seemed SO unlikely as to be preposterous. Plus, the third run splits weren't even up there yet, so there was no way to know for sure. I thought it looked like I'd maybe placed 3rd in my AG at best, and decided not to worry about it, and just see what happened at the award ceremony.
Engaged in some post-race food (they were opening little minibags of fritos and ladling chili inside, for hysterical bags of frito pie) (of which I partook, of course) (I wanted Matt to grab one of the mini bags of cheetos, and see if they'd make him a cheeto pie, but he wouldn't do it). Split some oreos with Jennifer. Lounged in the grass in the sun with Stacey and the Texas Iron gang and sherpas (which was fabulous, and I easily could have napped away the afternoon there).
Then it was time for awards, which were pretty dominated by the large A&M crowd, and by Texas Iron. And sure enough.. I won my age group! (And, for the record, there was more than just me in my age group! Not a ton.. but some!) First age group win! Whee! I went up to the front, and there was a lady standing next to a table full of granitey, marbley awards, and she said to pick one. I glanced at them, saw that there were two pretty ones, one of which seemed to say 2009 and one 2010, so I grabbed the one that said 2010. And some other random, inaccurate stuff. I'm not sure what the story with the awards was, but I have a random pretty one!
Then we packed up our stuff (again, much easier to do in a duathlon), hopped back on the bike with non-clippable trail shoes, and rode back down the highway to the main entrance, and back to camp to pack up and head home.
Results
Long run: 0:46:52 (3rd in Age Group), 9:22 pace
T1: 0:57.2 (1st in AG)
Bike: 1:00:25.7 (1st in AG), 15.9 mph
T2: 1:03.8 (1st in AG)
Short run: 0:15:23.0 (1st in AG), 12:18 pace
Total: 2:04:42.1 (1st in AG, 71st overall)
Really happy with that first run, especially given the hilliness and the tiredness of my legs. I don't think I could have kept that pace without Jennifer and Vicki there, and it was much more fun with company. Trail paces are always slower than road paces, and one of our miles was an 8:58, so yay, us! And yet, even though that's probably where I felt the best, that only got me 3rd in my age group.
The bike, where I felt awful, got me 1st in my age group. Looking at the results, it looks like a lot of people struggled on the bike. So I was in good company!
And the final run, all bets are off on pace. But the part that I'm most pleased with is the King of the Hill competition. Even with all my walking and suffering, I was 6th of 47 women in King of the Hill! I credit Jamie telling me to unleash hell, even if I didn't feel like I did in any way.
And since he never writes up his own stuff, I'll brag on Matt here, too. He was also 6th in his gender for King of the Hill, which is MUCH more competitive than the women. He just barely missed placing in his age group, presumably due to being in the same age group with his COACH, who he actually beat on the bike. He's kinda amazing, that husband of mine. And.. then he ran down Enchanted Rock, because he could.
The End
I didn't think this was an event I'd want to do again, and during the bike, I probably still didn't want to. In hindsight, though, I've become quite fond of this race. It's so ridiculous that it's fun, and now that I'm a few days away from it, I'd say I'll definitely do it again. Good idea, Matt!