Republic of Texas Olympicish Triathlon 2012 race report.
Matt wanted to do the Republic of Texas half Ironman distance triathlon in Corpus Christi. I really had no desire to. It's early in my season still. Yeah, I've done all the requisite distances in all the sports already, but I just wasn't really ready to put them together. I'm signed up for a half in June. That seems sufficient.
Buuuuut I learned last year when Matt was training for Leadville that it's no fun to have one of us go off and do an event and the other person stay home. And so I figured I'd tag along and do the Olympic distance, which seemed a much more reasonable early-season distance. Even though Olympic is really my least favorite distance. (As for the "why" of that.. it's an awkward distance for me, just like the 10k run distance is. It's short enough to feel like you have to push hard, but long enough that pushing hard is really uncomfortable. Give me sprint or Ironman any day.)
It was a windy weekend. The sprint distance was held on Saturday, and high winds caused them to cancel the swim entirely, and just do bike and run. We hoped things would calm down for Sunday, but Sunday dawned dark and gusty, as evidenced by the flags right outside our window (we were on the 5th floor, and so were the fabric parts of the flags) which made whooshing noises the entire night.
The day before
We wheeled our bikes out of the hotel and into a huge wind tunnel. We had a tailwind for the few blocks we had to walk down to transition, and even the tailwind made it hard to steer our bikes properly. We passed race director Jack on the way, and he said the swim was looking very unlikely, and probably the part of the half Iron bike which went over the Bay bridge would be removed, as well. But there was still time for the winds to die down before the race started.
We set up our transition area in the gusty wind, and as the sun finally came up we could see white caps in the water next to us. Nobody wanted to swim in that. It was announced that the full swim for sure was canceled, but that they might do a point-to-point swim with the current. It would basically be like body surfing, really. Just sit in the water and let the waves push you down to the swim exit. But really.. nobody wanted to get in that water at all with 40mph wind gusts, so we crossed our fingers they'd just cancel it completely. And ultimately they did. Which really made my decision about whether or not to wear my wetsuit (I'd been leaning strongly toward "no", but brought it just in case) a lot easier.
Hanging out with pre-race Tobiases, photo by Shayla
So now we were in for a bike-run event for both half and Olympic, time trial start, each person starting 12 seconds apart. Time to shift your transition items around, stow the swim stuff, put on your bike stuff and prep your run stuff.
The half folks went first, so we had a relatively long wait for the Olympic start, but the event was pretty small overall, so it wasn't too bad. I tried to stay hydrated and keep eating small things so I wouldn't start the race already starving. All the half folks went off, then they started lining up the Olympics, men first, then women. I kinda had to pee. I thought about dashing over to the portapotties, but I'd stepped over to take a picture with some folks just over to the side, not as far as the portapotties, and gotten hassled to get back by my bike, so I didn't want to risk it.
As I sat there waiting, I checked out the other women doing the Olympic. Like I said.. it was a small race, so the potential for ending up on the podium was increased. Depending on who showed up that day. And I couldn't find anyone in my age group at first. Some older, some younger, some amazingly fit women, but nobody 35-39. Then I spotted one girl on the last row who was 35. And wearing an aero helmet. And looking like she could crush me with any of her many muscles without even trying. That, I thought, is the girl who will win my age group. But I couldn't find any OTHERS as I idly stared at ages sharpied on the backs of calves.
And then it was our turn to line up!
The people who smartly racked their bikes closest to bike in/out ended up getting the shaft as they were the last row to go. I was in the second row, so got out pretty quickly. We lined up according to our spot on the rack, then clomped up a ramp to the timing mat and were sent off every 12 seconds. I got my bike computer and my watch prepared. The girl in front of me went, and I stepped up to the line. They did a countdown and when she got to 3, I started my watch, and when she got to 1, I ran my bike over the mat and started my race.
Bike um.. 25ish miles
I enthusiastically ran my bike over the mount line, then proceeded to be a complete idiot for what felt like 20 minutes. I tried to clip in my left foot first, as if I were going to do a shoeless mount and push off, except I never, ever try to clip in like that, and I couldn't get clipped in. Then I realized that I should get on my bike like I'd normally get on my bike with my shoes already on.. by throwing my leg over the bike and THEN clipping in. Meanwhile the girl who started behind me ran up and mounted like a normal person and took off. I got my leg over the bike and still couldn't get my left foot clipped in. FINALLY did and started rolling, just as the NEXT girl crossed the mount line and started to get on her bike. I started riding and spent the next 30 seconds trying to get my OTHER foot clipped in. As the other girl rolled past me, riding like a non-spastic normal person. Ugh.
Finally I was on my bike, both feet clipped in, and actually riding. I pretty quickly passed those other two girls back, then settled in to ride.
Except I was riding into a brick wall. The only GOOD news was that the brick wall was on the way out, and we'd have a tail wind on the way back in. Having to do the opposite of that (hello, Parmer) is even more demoralizing.
So those gusty 30-40 mph winds that canceled our swim were now hitting me directly in the face. I'd push into the wind thinking, "Well, this sucks, but it could be worse," and then a gust would hit me and it WOULD be worse. I was in a tiny gear on a flat, flat road, and I could barely pedal.
But I put my head down (literally, I spent most of the way out just staring at the road beneath me) and tried to be as small as possible, and just made my legs keep pushing as hard as they could without feeling like I was hurting myself or my ability to keep going. It wasn't comfortable or fun. But each pedal stroke meant I was closer to being able to turn around and enjoy the tail wind. I got in my aero bars when I could, but scary crosswinds made it somewhat treacherous, and I don't have a ton of power when I'm aero, and I NEEDED power out there.
After what felt like a year of fighting the wind, I got to a point on the course where we turn right and do a little out and back. I turned right only to discover that evidently what I'd been suffering through for so long was, in fact, a head/crosswind. And this turn turned me directly into a straight-on head wind. Which was even harder. I hoped this little out and back wasn't very long.
And it really wasn't. I rode right through the aid station, not figuring I was drinking enough to finish the one bottle I'd brought with me, and finally got to the turnaround. Swung around and HOLY CRAP LIFE WAS WONDERFUL. A full-on tailwind. I was flying. And I could HEAR for the first time since I'd been on the bike. That was a high point.
Unfortunately eventually I got back to the main road, and we had to go out further on it, so I turned back into the head/cross. I had no idea how far out we had to go, so just put my head back down and started watching for people on the other side coming back in who'd recently passed me.
And a lot of folks passed me. The super fast half folks, including Jamie, Jesse and Matt. The really fast 20something Olympic girl. Predictably, the girl I chose to win my age group, like I was riding backward, which I pretty much was. And she was two rows after mine, so.. yeah. She was a beast. Even if I wasn't putting up a lot of competition right then.
Finally got to the turnaround and swung around to head back in. Tailwind! Well, tail/cross. Which meant going by some of the buildings was scary, as a gap between buildings probably meant a gust of crosswind to try to push you sideways off your bike. I mostly stayed in my aero bars, though I wondered whether it was actually better to be out of them in order to create a larger surface for the wind to push. I mostly alternated based on how safe I felt being down there.
I had my head up a lot more at this point, but the landmarks meant nothing to me, since I'd had my head down on the way out.
And I had to pee. Why didn't I just run over and go before the race started?! Ugh. I actually tried to pee on the bike a few times, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. I hoped it would fade by the time I got to the run.
Got back into the hotel and bank district and started seeing runners on the sidewalk next to me. So now I knew where the run course was! And I knew I must be getting close to the bike finish. Lots of folks out cheering (most of the athletes, volunteers and spectators were Austinites, so I got and gave a lot of love out there), then some volunteers telling me to stay left. I figured that meant I was close to the dismount line, so took my shoes off, but it turned out to be a bit early. Not a big deal.
Feet out of shoes way too early!
Rode right up to the dismount line and swung my leg over and hopped off, thankfully much more successfully than my mount, and ran my bike over the line.
T.. uh.. just T, I guess
As I was running my bike to my rack, I heard the announcer talking. Logan had been announcing that morning, but he'd moved over to the finish line, so the other Corpus Christi local announcer had taken over. I heard her say something about how that must be Amy Bush coming in. Then she said my husband had just come through ahead of me, and I yelled that I figured as much, and he was doing twice the distance I was. My husband's a badass on the bike for sure. I have no idea how the announcer knew we were married, other than, I suppose, the matching last names.
Racked my bike, took off the helmet, slid on my shoes while asking a volunteer which way to go, and ran the direction he pointed.
Run 6.6 miles
Running! I can do this. I felt pretty okay coming off the bike. Except then I remembered I was once again headed out into the wind. Which really wasn't any more fun running than it was on the bike.
I just tried to keep my turnover high and consistent. I cheered for anyone I knew, and many people I didn't. Especially anyone who seemed to be doing the half, because I was SO happy to be doing the Olympic, which was only one loop bike and one loop run. The half folks had to do 2 loops of each. Two times into that wind for each sport.
I still hadn't seen anyone other than the superfast girl in my age group, so I crossed my fingers that nobody would pass me on the run. And not many people did, really, in general. Well, okay, eventually the leaders of the half did. But I can't be upset that James Bonney passed me (to go on and win the half before I even finished the Olympic), even though I joked to spectators that I was pretty sure I was winning up until he passed me.
It was tough pushing into the wind, but easier running than on the bike. One of the worst parts was being sandblasted by the sand from the (largely nonexistent.. now I'm not sure WHERE this sand was coming from) beach, being slammed into our faces (mostly legs, really) by the gusts of wind. It stung. Not comfortable. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses.
Photo by Shayla
I took water from all the aid stations, and started drinking some and dumping some on my head. It was warming up, and the sun was peeking through the clouds and heating things up further.
Remember that peeing thing? Yeah, I still had to pee. I kept telling myself, "It's only a 10k. You can run a 10k even if you have to pee. Really. You can. Okay, maybe you can't. Hrm." And maybe if I'd seen a portapotty when I came to that realization, I would have stopped in it. Or maybe not. I blame Karen, really, for telling me that it's not unheard of to pee while running. So, yes, for the 3rd time ever, I peed while running. In a 10k. I'm just gonna claim it's a victory because that means I was on top of my hydration, and leave it at that. I'm not proud, but I'm not ashamed, either.
And hey, I felt much better now! It also kinda coincided with the turnaround, FINALLY. I swear that course went out 5 miles instead of 3.something (it was longer than a 10k, really.. more like 6.55 or 6.6 miles).
As I headed back in, I now had the wind at my back. No more head wind! And predictably, that meant it suddenly felt like it was 100 degrees out there. I knew the wind was back there pushing me forward, but all I could feel was no air moving on my face at all. And the sun kept peeking out. But I just used all of that as motivation to run faster, so I could be done. And I started picking out rabbits ahead of me, then reeling them in one by one. I felt really good, other than that time I was running down the big hill and almost face-planted because I didn't realize it wasn't a straight down, but rather a down that flatted out a few times, and I wasn't watching my feet because I was cheering for Carolin running the other way up above me. Oops. I was just passing a guy as I did that, and I'm sure he was super impressed with my agility.
But other than that, I felt good, and I was glad to be more than half done. I just kept dumping water on my head and in my mouth, and kept my turnover high. I once again hadn't really watched the landmarks on my way out, so I wasn't sure how far I had to go to get back to the finish line. I rounded a corner and way out across the water I could see a giant mass in the water, and I thought, "Oh! I must be getting close! There's the Lusitania! ... I mean.. oh, whatever, close enough." It's the Lexington. I guess. Whatever.
But that meant I was getting close! I could see a tower up ahead, which I figured was our hotel, the Omni. Except it said something about a bank at the top. Not Omni. So then I was confused. Turns out, our hotel says something about a bank on the top. Huh. Eventually I realized that MUST be our hotel, because I came around the corner and found several random and wonderful cheering squads (Betsy, David, Lynn, Ed, Shayla) and a person with a megaphone telling me to go left for the finish line.
Photo by Shayla
I veered off to the left and started to pick up the pace as soon as I spotted the finish line. The finish chute is a neat little covered walkway (after cruelly making you hop up on a curb) lined with the few spectators who braved the wind, and I tore my way down the chute, making it painfully obvious that I didn't give everything I had out there, if I was still able to go that fast at the end. But I crossed with my arms in the air and was very happy to be done!
After
I got my medal and my commemorative icy cold towel and then immediately headed back out to where the cheering folks had been, and joined them in their cheering. There were still Half folks coming in on the bike, then passing by either direction for their runs. We cheered loudly, hoping to buoy some spirits, since it was a tough day out there.
Photo by JoAnne
Then I saw Matt off in the distance! As he ran up, I cheered, and then made an executive decision. I tucked my medal down into my jersey, shoved my towel down with it, and as Matt ran by, I jumped up and started running at his side. I was prepared to duck off if it turned out my legs no longer worked and I was actually slowing him down, but I felt okay, and ran by his side telling him how amazing he was and how close he was to the end, and warning him about the evil curb. Once we got to the covered walkway, he said he wanted to pass the guy ahead of him, so I told him to go do it and cheered for him as I ducked off the course. It was really neat to run with him, even if only very briefly.
Photo by Shayla
Results
Checking the results, it appeared that I might have gotten 2nd in my age group. Because the event was shortened, the awards ceremony, which was originally supposed to be at 3pm (and which I didn't think we'd be able to attend, since we had to be out of our hotel by 2pm), was moved to 1:30. So we dashed back to the hotel to shower, change and check out, then back just in time for the awards. And sure enough, I was second in my age group! And sure enough, the girl I had picked out to win my age group did, most decidedly. She ran 6:53s. (Picture!) I can't so much do that.
Results are a little confusing, because the bike was originally supposed to be 25ish miles, and at first they had times up with that as the distance, which made it look like I went REALLY FAST! It said I averaged 21mph, which I wasn't even sure I'd managed on the way BACK with the wind at my back. Now they've changed it to 21 miles, which is still a little more than my bike computer claims, which is 20.22 miles, 16.9mph average. 14.9mph out, 20.8mph back in. Ha.
The run I did in 54:55, which I didn't wear my Garmin for, but if indeed it was 6.6 miles as claimed, I ran 8:19s. I'm pretty proud of that, given the tough bike and the tough run. 9th fastest woman on the run, faster than some of the women who beat me overall. I should learn to ride a bike.
And most importantly, my transition was 44 seconds! Second fastest women's transition time, though two women did 41 seconds and 2 others did 44 seconds (including the women's winner). (My transition would have been slower if it had been a true tri, because I would have gone sockless for the bike and had to put on socks for the run).
So overall I'm pretty darn happy with 2nd in my age group, 14th woman overall. It was a hard day out there, and I was proud that I held it together and finished strong.
Photo by Vegas
All pictures from the weekend can be found here.
Buuuuut I learned last year when Matt was training for Leadville that it's no fun to have one of us go off and do an event and the other person stay home. And so I figured I'd tag along and do the Olympic distance, which seemed a much more reasonable early-season distance. Even though Olympic is really my least favorite distance. (As for the "why" of that.. it's an awkward distance for me, just like the 10k run distance is. It's short enough to feel like you have to push hard, but long enough that pushing hard is really uncomfortable. Give me sprint or Ironman any day.)
It was a windy weekend. The sprint distance was held on Saturday, and high winds caused them to cancel the swim entirely, and just do bike and run. We hoped things would calm down for Sunday, but Sunday dawned dark and gusty, as evidenced by the flags right outside our window (we were on the 5th floor, and so were the fabric parts of the flags) which made whooshing noises the entire night.
The day before
We wheeled our bikes out of the hotel and into a huge wind tunnel. We had a tailwind for the few blocks we had to walk down to transition, and even the tailwind made it hard to steer our bikes properly. We passed race director Jack on the way, and he said the swim was looking very unlikely, and probably the part of the half Iron bike which went over the Bay bridge would be removed, as well. But there was still time for the winds to die down before the race started.
We set up our transition area in the gusty wind, and as the sun finally came up we could see white caps in the water next to us. Nobody wanted to swim in that. It was announced that the full swim for sure was canceled, but that they might do a point-to-point swim with the current. It would basically be like body surfing, really. Just sit in the water and let the waves push you down to the swim exit. But really.. nobody wanted to get in that water at all with 40mph wind gusts, so we crossed our fingers they'd just cancel it completely. And ultimately they did. Which really made my decision about whether or not to wear my wetsuit (I'd been leaning strongly toward "no", but brought it just in case) a lot easier.
Hanging out with pre-race Tobiases, photo by Shayla
So now we were in for a bike-run event for both half and Olympic, time trial start, each person starting 12 seconds apart. Time to shift your transition items around, stow the swim stuff, put on your bike stuff and prep your run stuff.
The half folks went first, so we had a relatively long wait for the Olympic start, but the event was pretty small overall, so it wasn't too bad. I tried to stay hydrated and keep eating small things so I wouldn't start the race already starving. All the half folks went off, then they started lining up the Olympics, men first, then women. I kinda had to pee. I thought about dashing over to the portapotties, but I'd stepped over to take a picture with some folks just over to the side, not as far as the portapotties, and gotten hassled to get back by my bike, so I didn't want to risk it.
As I sat there waiting, I checked out the other women doing the Olympic. Like I said.. it was a small race, so the potential for ending up on the podium was increased. Depending on who showed up that day. And I couldn't find anyone in my age group at first. Some older, some younger, some amazingly fit women, but nobody 35-39. Then I spotted one girl on the last row who was 35. And wearing an aero helmet. And looking like she could crush me with any of her many muscles without even trying. That, I thought, is the girl who will win my age group. But I couldn't find any OTHERS as I idly stared at ages sharpied on the backs of calves.
And then it was our turn to line up!
The people who smartly racked their bikes closest to bike in/out ended up getting the shaft as they were the last row to go. I was in the second row, so got out pretty quickly. We lined up according to our spot on the rack, then clomped up a ramp to the timing mat and were sent off every 12 seconds. I got my bike computer and my watch prepared. The girl in front of me went, and I stepped up to the line. They did a countdown and when she got to 3, I started my watch, and when she got to 1, I ran my bike over the mat and started my race.
Bike um.. 25ish miles
I enthusiastically ran my bike over the mount line, then proceeded to be a complete idiot for what felt like 20 minutes. I tried to clip in my left foot first, as if I were going to do a shoeless mount and push off, except I never, ever try to clip in like that, and I couldn't get clipped in. Then I realized that I should get on my bike like I'd normally get on my bike with my shoes already on.. by throwing my leg over the bike and THEN clipping in. Meanwhile the girl who started behind me ran up and mounted like a normal person and took off. I got my leg over the bike and still couldn't get my left foot clipped in. FINALLY did and started rolling, just as the NEXT girl crossed the mount line and started to get on her bike. I started riding and spent the next 30 seconds trying to get my OTHER foot clipped in. As the other girl rolled past me, riding like a non-spastic normal person. Ugh.
Finally I was on my bike, both feet clipped in, and actually riding. I pretty quickly passed those other two girls back, then settled in to ride.
Except I was riding into a brick wall. The only GOOD news was that the brick wall was on the way out, and we'd have a tail wind on the way back in. Having to do the opposite of that (hello, Parmer) is even more demoralizing.
So those gusty 30-40 mph winds that canceled our swim were now hitting me directly in the face. I'd push into the wind thinking, "Well, this sucks, but it could be worse," and then a gust would hit me and it WOULD be worse. I was in a tiny gear on a flat, flat road, and I could barely pedal.
But I put my head down (literally, I spent most of the way out just staring at the road beneath me) and tried to be as small as possible, and just made my legs keep pushing as hard as they could without feeling like I was hurting myself or my ability to keep going. It wasn't comfortable or fun. But each pedal stroke meant I was closer to being able to turn around and enjoy the tail wind. I got in my aero bars when I could, but scary crosswinds made it somewhat treacherous, and I don't have a ton of power when I'm aero, and I NEEDED power out there.
After what felt like a year of fighting the wind, I got to a point on the course where we turn right and do a little out and back. I turned right only to discover that evidently what I'd been suffering through for so long was, in fact, a head/crosswind. And this turn turned me directly into a straight-on head wind. Which was even harder. I hoped this little out and back wasn't very long.
And it really wasn't. I rode right through the aid station, not figuring I was drinking enough to finish the one bottle I'd brought with me, and finally got to the turnaround. Swung around and HOLY CRAP LIFE WAS WONDERFUL. A full-on tailwind. I was flying. And I could HEAR for the first time since I'd been on the bike. That was a high point.
Unfortunately eventually I got back to the main road, and we had to go out further on it, so I turned back into the head/cross. I had no idea how far out we had to go, so just put my head back down and started watching for people on the other side coming back in who'd recently passed me.
And a lot of folks passed me. The super fast half folks, including Jamie, Jesse and Matt. The really fast 20something Olympic girl. Predictably, the girl I chose to win my age group, like I was riding backward, which I pretty much was. And she was two rows after mine, so.. yeah. She was a beast. Even if I wasn't putting up a lot of competition right then.
Finally got to the turnaround and swung around to head back in. Tailwind! Well, tail/cross. Which meant going by some of the buildings was scary, as a gap between buildings probably meant a gust of crosswind to try to push you sideways off your bike. I mostly stayed in my aero bars, though I wondered whether it was actually better to be out of them in order to create a larger surface for the wind to push. I mostly alternated based on how safe I felt being down there.
I had my head up a lot more at this point, but the landmarks meant nothing to me, since I'd had my head down on the way out.
And I had to pee. Why didn't I just run over and go before the race started?! Ugh. I actually tried to pee on the bike a few times, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. I hoped it would fade by the time I got to the run.
Got back into the hotel and bank district and started seeing runners on the sidewalk next to me. So now I knew where the run course was! And I knew I must be getting close to the bike finish. Lots of folks out cheering (most of the athletes, volunteers and spectators were Austinites, so I got and gave a lot of love out there), then some volunteers telling me to stay left. I figured that meant I was close to the dismount line, so took my shoes off, but it turned out to be a bit early. Not a big deal.
Feet out of shoes way too early!
Rode right up to the dismount line and swung my leg over and hopped off, thankfully much more successfully than my mount, and ran my bike over the line.
T.. uh.. just T, I guess
As I was running my bike to my rack, I heard the announcer talking. Logan had been announcing that morning, but he'd moved over to the finish line, so the other Corpus Christi local announcer had taken over. I heard her say something about how that must be Amy Bush coming in. Then she said my husband had just come through ahead of me, and I yelled that I figured as much, and he was doing twice the distance I was. My husband's a badass on the bike for sure. I have no idea how the announcer knew we were married, other than, I suppose, the matching last names.
Racked my bike, took off the helmet, slid on my shoes while asking a volunteer which way to go, and ran the direction he pointed.
Run 6.6 miles
Running! I can do this. I felt pretty okay coming off the bike. Except then I remembered I was once again headed out into the wind. Which really wasn't any more fun running than it was on the bike.
I just tried to keep my turnover high and consistent. I cheered for anyone I knew, and many people I didn't. Especially anyone who seemed to be doing the half, because I was SO happy to be doing the Olympic, which was only one loop bike and one loop run. The half folks had to do 2 loops of each. Two times into that wind for each sport.
I still hadn't seen anyone other than the superfast girl in my age group, so I crossed my fingers that nobody would pass me on the run. And not many people did, really, in general. Well, okay, eventually the leaders of the half did. But I can't be upset that James Bonney passed me (to go on and win the half before I even finished the Olympic), even though I joked to spectators that I was pretty sure I was winning up until he passed me.
It was tough pushing into the wind, but easier running than on the bike. One of the worst parts was being sandblasted by the sand from the (largely nonexistent.. now I'm not sure WHERE this sand was coming from) beach, being slammed into our faces (mostly legs, really) by the gusts of wind. It stung. Not comfortable. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses.
Photo by Shayla
I took water from all the aid stations, and started drinking some and dumping some on my head. It was warming up, and the sun was peeking through the clouds and heating things up further.
Remember that peeing thing? Yeah, I still had to pee. I kept telling myself, "It's only a 10k. You can run a 10k even if you have to pee. Really. You can. Okay, maybe you can't. Hrm." And maybe if I'd seen a portapotty when I came to that realization, I would have stopped in it. Or maybe not. I blame Karen, really, for telling me that it's not unheard of to pee while running. So, yes, for the 3rd time ever, I peed while running. In a 10k. I'm just gonna claim it's a victory because that means I was on top of my hydration, and leave it at that. I'm not proud, but I'm not ashamed, either.
And hey, I felt much better now! It also kinda coincided with the turnaround, FINALLY. I swear that course went out 5 miles instead of 3.something (it was longer than a 10k, really.. more like 6.55 or 6.6 miles).
As I headed back in, I now had the wind at my back. No more head wind! And predictably, that meant it suddenly felt like it was 100 degrees out there. I knew the wind was back there pushing me forward, but all I could feel was no air moving on my face at all. And the sun kept peeking out. But I just used all of that as motivation to run faster, so I could be done. And I started picking out rabbits ahead of me, then reeling them in one by one. I felt really good, other than that time I was running down the big hill and almost face-planted because I didn't realize it wasn't a straight down, but rather a down that flatted out a few times, and I wasn't watching my feet because I was cheering for Carolin running the other way up above me. Oops. I was just passing a guy as I did that, and I'm sure he was super impressed with my agility.
But other than that, I felt good, and I was glad to be more than half done. I just kept dumping water on my head and in my mouth, and kept my turnover high. I once again hadn't really watched the landmarks on my way out, so I wasn't sure how far I had to go to get back to the finish line. I rounded a corner and way out across the water I could see a giant mass in the water, and I thought, "Oh! I must be getting close! There's the Lusitania! ... I mean.. oh, whatever, close enough." It's the Lexington. I guess. Whatever.
But that meant I was getting close! I could see a tower up ahead, which I figured was our hotel, the Omni. Except it said something about a bank at the top. Not Omni. So then I was confused. Turns out, our hotel says something about a bank on the top. Huh. Eventually I realized that MUST be our hotel, because I came around the corner and found several random and wonderful cheering squads (Betsy, David, Lynn, Ed, Shayla) and a person with a megaphone telling me to go left for the finish line.
Photo by Shayla
I veered off to the left and started to pick up the pace as soon as I spotted the finish line. The finish chute is a neat little covered walkway (after cruelly making you hop up on a curb) lined with the few spectators who braved the wind, and I tore my way down the chute, making it painfully obvious that I didn't give everything I had out there, if I was still able to go that fast at the end. But I crossed with my arms in the air and was very happy to be done!
After
I got my medal and my commemorative icy cold towel and then immediately headed back out to where the cheering folks had been, and joined them in their cheering. There were still Half folks coming in on the bike, then passing by either direction for their runs. We cheered loudly, hoping to buoy some spirits, since it was a tough day out there.
Photo by JoAnne
Then I saw Matt off in the distance! As he ran up, I cheered, and then made an executive decision. I tucked my medal down into my jersey, shoved my towel down with it, and as Matt ran by, I jumped up and started running at his side. I was prepared to duck off if it turned out my legs no longer worked and I was actually slowing him down, but I felt okay, and ran by his side telling him how amazing he was and how close he was to the end, and warning him about the evil curb. Once we got to the covered walkway, he said he wanted to pass the guy ahead of him, so I told him to go do it and cheered for him as I ducked off the course. It was really neat to run with him, even if only very briefly.
Photo by Shayla
Results
Checking the results, it appeared that I might have gotten 2nd in my age group. Because the event was shortened, the awards ceremony, which was originally supposed to be at 3pm (and which I didn't think we'd be able to attend, since we had to be out of our hotel by 2pm), was moved to 1:30. So we dashed back to the hotel to shower, change and check out, then back just in time for the awards. And sure enough, I was second in my age group! And sure enough, the girl I had picked out to win my age group did, most decidedly. She ran 6:53s. (Picture!) I can't so much do that.
Results are a little confusing, because the bike was originally supposed to be 25ish miles, and at first they had times up with that as the distance, which made it look like I went REALLY FAST! It said I averaged 21mph, which I wasn't even sure I'd managed on the way BACK with the wind at my back. Now they've changed it to 21 miles, which is still a little more than my bike computer claims, which is 20.22 miles, 16.9mph average. 14.9mph out, 20.8mph back in. Ha.
The run I did in 54:55, which I didn't wear my Garmin for, but if indeed it was 6.6 miles as claimed, I ran 8:19s. I'm pretty proud of that, given the tough bike and the tough run. 9th fastest woman on the run, faster than some of the women who beat me overall. I should learn to ride a bike.
And most importantly, my transition was 44 seconds! Second fastest women's transition time, though two women did 41 seconds and 2 others did 44 seconds (including the women's winner). (My transition would have been slower if it had been a true tri, because I would have gone sockless for the bike and had to put on socks for the run).
So overall I'm pretty darn happy with 2nd in my age group, 14th woman overall. It was a hard day out there, and I was proud that I held it together and finished strong.
Photo by Vegas
All pictures from the weekend can be found here.