Kerrville 70.3 Triathlon 2012 race report.
Last race of my 2012 tri season! I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't really trained much or consistently since Ironman Mont-Tremblant, so.. I was well-rested? Or under-trained. Or something. It could either be that I had a ton of base fitness built up and would just mosey my way into a PR, or it could be that I would find I was horribly burnt out and my heart wasn't in it at all. (Spoiler: It didn't end up being that first thing.)
Before
It chilly race morning! In the low 60s, maybe. I didn't want to surrender my jacket to the dry clothes bag, but once I put on my wetsuit, I felt okay (even though it was sleeveless). I pet Graham the high-fivin' golden retriever about a billion times to kill time before my wave went, then trudged down the super-steep scary ramp into the water with the rest of my age group. Women 40+ had been the second wave, and now us women 39 and under were heading out as the next to last wave, with only the relays behind us.
The water was presumably just barely wetsuit-legal, and delightfully warm compared to the air, and I was happy to have a deep-water start. Tread water for a minute or two, as much as one even has to tread water in a wetsuit, and then it was go time!
Swim 1.2 miles
Since Karen was racing the quarter-Iron distance that same morning, I had had to return her wetsuit, so I was back in my chokey wetsuit, which I hadn't worn since Buffalo Springs. It was still chokey.
I went out fast and then settled into a comfortable pace, enjoying a clean start with no jockeying for position with my wave-mates. The chokey wetsuit had me wheezing with each breath until the first turn buoy, then I guess I relaxed enough to breathe somewhat normally.
Mostly an uneventful swim. Overcast day, so no sun in my eyes. Water didn't taste or smell bad. Everyone was well-behaved. I passed one girl at the turn buoy because I navigated the turn better, and then she tried to draft off me, but she was faster than me. So she went around me, and I thought, "Perfect! She's just slightly faster than me, I can draft off her." Except this girl could NOT swim in a straight line. She ended up finishing a few seconds before me, but could have finished 5 minutes before me if she'd not added so much distance to her swim. I kinda wanted to find her afterward and tell her to learn to sight.
But watching her weave around perpendicular to the course, and drafting off of her when she happened to accidentally pass in front of me briefly, kept me entertained and made the swim go by quickly.
Swam up to the ramp and let a volunteer yank me out of the water and pull me up the slippery slope. Mostly got my wetsuit half off by the time I got to the wetsuit strippers, and flopped down on my back to have someone yank my wetsuit off. As I ran over the timing mat, I split my watch and glanced at my time.
My PR was 32:something in Buffalo Springs. I'd felt like I'd swam well, and was near the front of my wave. I figured since I hadn't been training that much, a PR wasn't likely, so maybe I'd do a 34:something. My watch said.. 36:something. Ugh.
T1
Ran up the hill toward transition (an unkind hill right after you've been swimming) and tried not to reflect on what my swim time meant for my race. And failed. It meant a PR was really, really unlikely. I needed those 4 minutes, because my bike times at my last 2 halves were really good for me, and I didn't know if I could make up those 4 minutes, plus more, during the bike and the run.
But I tried to put it behind me and just move on with my day. Found my bike (yay for racking at the end of a row), jammed my wetsuit, swimcap and goggles into my bike bag (point-to-point bike means you pack up your swim stuff and they transport it to the second transition), put on helmet, sunglasses and race belt, and ran my bike out. Not much time wasted there, at least.
Bike 56 miles
Ran cross the mount line and found a cheering Betsy and David! I said hi, then asked them to please not watch me mount, since I'm wobbly enough when I DON'T have an audience. But the mount went great, and I was off!
The bike started off well. There weren't that many people behind me.. only the women from my wave that I'd beat on the swim, the fair number of men I'd passed during the swim, and eventually the relay folks, so I didn't have quite as many people passing me as I normally did. And I wasn't passing many people. So it was pretty quiet out there.
The first part of the course had a tailwind. I recognized this was the case, and tried to use it as much as I could, knowing that it wouldn't last. And sure enough, we turned out of the lovely tailwind and decent road into a hellish region of bad chipseal and headwind.
At some point during the first loop, I realized I don't think I ever mentioned in my Ironman M-T race report how wonderful the roads were. Nearly all newly paved and smooth, smooth, smooth. These were not those roads. These were awful. And as I rode over the roads into the wind, I knew that I had to do this again the second loop.
I was low. Very low. I don't excel at wind, either physically or mentally. Hills I can do. Wind kills me. Makes me use leg muscles that seem to fatigue faster than the other cycling muscles.
I rode by a girl on the side of the road, standing there with her bike, presumably having had some sort of mechanical that she couldn't fix, and she was waiting for someone to come pick her up. I made a sympathetic face and said, "I'm sorry.." and she said, "Go out there and have fun for me!"
And I thought, "She's right. Her race is over, and I bet she's really bummed to have trained for this and then not be able to do it. I'm here. I'm doing it. I'm able. I need to be happy that I'm capable of doing this. I'm lucky." And so I smiled and embraced a positive attitude for this girl.
For like 5 minutes. And then I hated life again, and couldn't pull myself back out of it.
The highway back into town was miserable, chipseal and headwind. My attitude was poor. I didn't want to do another loop. As I got close to the end of the first loop, I developed a little sub-goal to finish my loop before the quarter-Iron leaders caught me on the bike. With less than a quarter mile to go, they blew by me. Figures.
Back out again for another loop. Attitude hadn't improved. I didn't even really enjoy the tailwind part, because I knew the headwind and chipseal were coming up again. And they did. And I kept getting slower and slower. I just couldn't get any power. I hate chipseal. I hate headwind. I hated everything. I hated the drizzle that came up as I got back to the highway. My legs were stupidly tired. I couldn't imagine how I was going to run a half marathon. I didn't really want to. I thought maybe I'd finish up the bike and go cheer with David and Betsy. I just really wasn't in a good place.
As I rolled back into town, I made the mistake of looking at my bike computer, and accidentally saw how long ago I'd passed 3 hours. That made me even more unhappy. BUT. I was almost done with the bike, which made me happy.
I really had no idea where transition was, in relation to how we were coming in, so I unshod myself just in case, knowing it was possible I still had 3 miles to go and would ride those on top of my shoes, but then it was just around the corner, so I timed it perfectly.
Dismounted and ran my bike into transition.
T2
The nice thing about triathlon, after you've done it for a few years, is that things just sorta happen on autopilot. Things go wrong when you overthink matters. But if you just let your body do what it knows how to do, it usually goes right. So with my brain sorta checked out, I never made the conscious decision to not quit, I just kept moving, and things took care of themselves.
I somehow found my rack, and shoved my bike into a random hole. I felt bad that I was putting my bike where someone else's stuff was, but I was so far back, most bikes were already in, and my choices were very limited.
I found my bag tied down on the end of the rack where I'd left it, untied it and trotted it down to my bike. I'd peed on the bike (yay for being at the back of a desolate course), but had to pee again, so sat down in transition to put on my socks and shoes and peed again. Yay for grassy transitions.
I had alllllmost put socks in T1 to put on for the bike, because I was positive that after a day of rain all Saturday, the socks I'd put in T2 would be soaking wet, and I'd have to put on and run in soaking wet socks. But then I forgot to do that. And hey, my socks were dry! Things are improving!
Put on socks and shoes, finished peeing, grabbed my ziploc of stuffs, and ran out of transition, evidently having decided to do the run. Or at least not having decided not to do it.
Run 13.1 miles
Chatted with Mel as I started the run, and as I did so, I opened up my ziploc and shoved my gu into singlet pocket. After losing my alligator headband in Mont-Tremblant, I was super careful with my owl headband, and wrapped it around my wrist, and then dropped my salt cannister. Because evidently I have to drop SOMEthing. But I knew I'd need that salt, so I ran back to get it. Put on my headband, which is surprisingly difficult while running, because you have to take off sunglasses, put sunglasses in mouth, realize you can't put headband over head while sunglasses are in mouth.. it's just complicated. But I got it on, realized it was all twisted and probably you could only see half the owls. I decided I'd deal with that some time later. I forgot to ever deal with it. It was a half-owl sort of run.
My legs felt decent. I was running well. I made sure to keep my effort in check. I had no idea what the course was like, except that it was 4 loops (ugh, 4 loops), and there was some fairly long section of off-road that may or may not be horribly boggy from the Saturday rain.
The bad news is 4 loops. The good news is it's actually 4 out and backs, and when you know everyone out there, you get to see everyone 9 trillion times. As soon as I started the run, I started seeing friends and husbands and other friends, and it's hard to have a negative attitude when you're cheering for other people.
So now I was having an okay time again. I was glad I hadn't quit after the bike. I was enjoying the run. At least when it was overcast. When the sun would come out, it got moderately less enjoyable.
I had convinced myself that my bike had been so slow, and I had started to much later than everyone else, and that those two things combined would mean that people would either be done with the race by the time I started the run, or they'd have one loop left and then I'd be out there alone for my last 3 loops. Each time I'd see someone, I'd think, "Well, that's the last time I'll see them, they're probably headed for the finish line." And then I'd keep seeing them. And again. I became really confused about how time worked, and eventually realized that I hadn't started THAT far behind everyone else, and that a half marathon takes quite some time.
So I ran and cheered and was cheered for and I was happyish again. The off-road part wasn't bad, it wasn't really boggy at all, and the hills were manageable. The road part was better, and the aid stations were plentiful. I knew so many people out there running, and we all exchanged kind words, and then the finish line area was populated by so many people I knew, and they cheered every time I went through. And Kelly shrieked at me. And at some point I shoved my salt cannister at David, because I didn't want anymore salt and I was tired of carrying it. And Tom kept taking pictures of me, which helped me remember to check my form, and at some point I tried to give him a jumping picture and landed wrong and kinda jacked up my foot. And Logan hassled me, wondering where I'd been, because he had to pee. There's advantages and disadvantages to knowing the finish line announcer.
Betsy made me give her some jazzhands, even if I wasn't feeling all that jazzhandy
Oh! And at one point I came up behind someone running very steady and strong, and I realized it was Jody. Jody is 74. Jody is amazing. As I came up behind her, I said, "Jody Kelly! I'm sorry about the profanity, but you're fucking amazing." And lest you think that Grandma Jody was offended by my language, she chirpily replied, "Well, fucking thank you!" Amazing.
After 3 loops of people telling me I looked like I was running really strong, I started to feel a lot less strong. My right IT band was really fatigued and not really singing along anymore, and I felt lurchy. I was devoting a lot of energy to running evenly. The sun was out and it felt warm. My footing was getting less sure on the off-road part. Most people from earlier waves had finished up their last lap and it was thinning out a bit out on the course. So my last loop was a little rough. I was mostly just falling forward, hoping a leg would go out there and catch me each time. And they did. But I'm pretty sure I slowed down for that last loop. I never looked at my watch. I knew it couldn't help.
And then finally I was falling back toward the finish line for the last time, and I was so happy to be finishing. I gave it what I had left, which wasn't a ton, and heard Logan calling me the Little Engine That Could, and crossed that stupid finish line.
Karen's picture of me nearing the finish line
Results
I would have liked a PR, but that wasn't in the cards. Not swim nor bike nor run were a PR, in fact. But my secondary goal was sub-6 and I just squeaked that out with a 5:59:32. Cut that a little close!
Swim: 36:24 (1:53/M)
T1: 1:38
Bike: 3:21:41 (16.7MPH)
T2: 1:47
Run: 1:58:01 (9:01/M)
Total: 5:59:32
I dunno what happened with the swim. The bike was slower than my IMMT bike pace, for half the distance on a much less hilly (but much worse road and wind) course. The run.. I feel like I should be able to do a faster half marathon at the end of a half Ironman, based on my runs off the bike in training, but it never seems to work out that way. But I'm happy with the run, especially given how much I'd given up on the bike. And my transitions were decent!
(My bike computer autosplits every 5 miles, and you can tell where I am on the course according to my average speed per 5 miles: 19.9, 21.8, 18.8, 15.5, 14.5, 15.9, 19.5, 19.1, 15.2, 13.7, 13.4, 12.4 for the last 0.77 miles. Let's guess where Amy just felt completely defeated!)
Honestly, though, averaging 16.7mph over 56 miles isn't bad for me. It's bad in comparison to most of my peers, but I think I'm mostly just disappointed in how I dealt with adversity.
(Speaking of my peers, I was 8th in my age group. Only 4 of those ahead of me swam faster than me. Only TWO of those ahead of me ran faster than me. My T1 was at least 30 seconds faster than all of them. 3 beat me in T2. And every one of them rode at least 20 minutes faster than I did. Argh.)
So I'm not thrilled with my time, and I can't even say, "Well, I just went out to have fun, and I did!" because I really didn't have fun. I remember telling someone at some point that when you do an Ironman, that should probably be the end of your tri season. Doing a half Ironman after that is dumb. I actually would have been happy ending the season with either IMMT or TriRock Olympic. Those were both good races. Instead I've got this race that felt unsuccessful looming over me as my last tri of the season.
But! I had a great weekend cheering on Saturday, and had run cheering for all my fellow racers on Sunday, and had a great time hanging out in Kerrville with Matt. So overall it was a win.
But this just means I need some good running races now that I'm heading into running season!
Time to move on..
Before
It chilly race morning! In the low 60s, maybe. I didn't want to surrender my jacket to the dry clothes bag, but once I put on my wetsuit, I felt okay (even though it was sleeveless). I pet Graham the high-fivin' golden retriever about a billion times to kill time before my wave went, then trudged down the super-steep scary ramp into the water with the rest of my age group. Women 40+ had been the second wave, and now us women 39 and under were heading out as the next to last wave, with only the relays behind us.
The water was presumably just barely wetsuit-legal, and delightfully warm compared to the air, and I was happy to have a deep-water start. Tread water for a minute or two, as much as one even has to tread water in a wetsuit, and then it was go time!
Swim 1.2 miles
Since Karen was racing the quarter-Iron distance that same morning, I had had to return her wetsuit, so I was back in my chokey wetsuit, which I hadn't worn since Buffalo Springs. It was still chokey.
I went out fast and then settled into a comfortable pace, enjoying a clean start with no jockeying for position with my wave-mates. The chokey wetsuit had me wheezing with each breath until the first turn buoy, then I guess I relaxed enough to breathe somewhat normally.
Mostly an uneventful swim. Overcast day, so no sun in my eyes. Water didn't taste or smell bad. Everyone was well-behaved. I passed one girl at the turn buoy because I navigated the turn better, and then she tried to draft off me, but she was faster than me. So she went around me, and I thought, "Perfect! She's just slightly faster than me, I can draft off her." Except this girl could NOT swim in a straight line. She ended up finishing a few seconds before me, but could have finished 5 minutes before me if she'd not added so much distance to her swim. I kinda wanted to find her afterward and tell her to learn to sight.
But watching her weave around perpendicular to the course, and drafting off of her when she happened to accidentally pass in front of me briefly, kept me entertained and made the swim go by quickly.
Swam up to the ramp and let a volunteer yank me out of the water and pull me up the slippery slope. Mostly got my wetsuit half off by the time I got to the wetsuit strippers, and flopped down on my back to have someone yank my wetsuit off. As I ran over the timing mat, I split my watch and glanced at my time.
My PR was 32:something in Buffalo Springs. I'd felt like I'd swam well, and was near the front of my wave. I figured since I hadn't been training that much, a PR wasn't likely, so maybe I'd do a 34:something. My watch said.. 36:something. Ugh.
T1
Ran up the hill toward transition (an unkind hill right after you've been swimming) and tried not to reflect on what my swim time meant for my race. And failed. It meant a PR was really, really unlikely. I needed those 4 minutes, because my bike times at my last 2 halves were really good for me, and I didn't know if I could make up those 4 minutes, plus more, during the bike and the run.
But I tried to put it behind me and just move on with my day. Found my bike (yay for racking at the end of a row), jammed my wetsuit, swimcap and goggles into my bike bag (point-to-point bike means you pack up your swim stuff and they transport it to the second transition), put on helmet, sunglasses and race belt, and ran my bike out. Not much time wasted there, at least.
Bike 56 miles
Ran cross the mount line and found a cheering Betsy and David! I said hi, then asked them to please not watch me mount, since I'm wobbly enough when I DON'T have an audience. But the mount went great, and I was off!
The bike started off well. There weren't that many people behind me.. only the women from my wave that I'd beat on the swim, the fair number of men I'd passed during the swim, and eventually the relay folks, so I didn't have quite as many people passing me as I normally did. And I wasn't passing many people. So it was pretty quiet out there.
The first part of the course had a tailwind. I recognized this was the case, and tried to use it as much as I could, knowing that it wouldn't last. And sure enough, we turned out of the lovely tailwind and decent road into a hellish region of bad chipseal and headwind.
At some point during the first loop, I realized I don't think I ever mentioned in my Ironman M-T race report how wonderful the roads were. Nearly all newly paved and smooth, smooth, smooth. These were not those roads. These were awful. And as I rode over the roads into the wind, I knew that I had to do this again the second loop.
I was low. Very low. I don't excel at wind, either physically or mentally. Hills I can do. Wind kills me. Makes me use leg muscles that seem to fatigue faster than the other cycling muscles.
I rode by a girl on the side of the road, standing there with her bike, presumably having had some sort of mechanical that she couldn't fix, and she was waiting for someone to come pick her up. I made a sympathetic face and said, "I'm sorry.." and she said, "Go out there and have fun for me!"
And I thought, "She's right. Her race is over, and I bet she's really bummed to have trained for this and then not be able to do it. I'm here. I'm doing it. I'm able. I need to be happy that I'm capable of doing this. I'm lucky." And so I smiled and embraced a positive attitude for this girl.
For like 5 minutes. And then I hated life again, and couldn't pull myself back out of it.
The highway back into town was miserable, chipseal and headwind. My attitude was poor. I didn't want to do another loop. As I got close to the end of the first loop, I developed a little sub-goal to finish my loop before the quarter-Iron leaders caught me on the bike. With less than a quarter mile to go, they blew by me. Figures.
Back out again for another loop. Attitude hadn't improved. I didn't even really enjoy the tailwind part, because I knew the headwind and chipseal were coming up again. And they did. And I kept getting slower and slower. I just couldn't get any power. I hate chipseal. I hate headwind. I hated everything. I hated the drizzle that came up as I got back to the highway. My legs were stupidly tired. I couldn't imagine how I was going to run a half marathon. I didn't really want to. I thought maybe I'd finish up the bike and go cheer with David and Betsy. I just really wasn't in a good place.
As I rolled back into town, I made the mistake of looking at my bike computer, and accidentally saw how long ago I'd passed 3 hours. That made me even more unhappy. BUT. I was almost done with the bike, which made me happy.
I really had no idea where transition was, in relation to how we were coming in, so I unshod myself just in case, knowing it was possible I still had 3 miles to go and would ride those on top of my shoes, but then it was just around the corner, so I timed it perfectly.
Dismounted and ran my bike into transition.
T2
The nice thing about triathlon, after you've done it for a few years, is that things just sorta happen on autopilot. Things go wrong when you overthink matters. But if you just let your body do what it knows how to do, it usually goes right. So with my brain sorta checked out, I never made the conscious decision to not quit, I just kept moving, and things took care of themselves.
I somehow found my rack, and shoved my bike into a random hole. I felt bad that I was putting my bike where someone else's stuff was, but I was so far back, most bikes were already in, and my choices were very limited.
I found my bag tied down on the end of the rack where I'd left it, untied it and trotted it down to my bike. I'd peed on the bike (yay for being at the back of a desolate course), but had to pee again, so sat down in transition to put on my socks and shoes and peed again. Yay for grassy transitions.
I had alllllmost put socks in T1 to put on for the bike, because I was positive that after a day of rain all Saturday, the socks I'd put in T2 would be soaking wet, and I'd have to put on and run in soaking wet socks. But then I forgot to do that. And hey, my socks were dry! Things are improving!
Put on socks and shoes, finished peeing, grabbed my ziploc of stuffs, and ran out of transition, evidently having decided to do the run. Or at least not having decided not to do it.
Run 13.1 miles
Chatted with Mel as I started the run, and as I did so, I opened up my ziploc and shoved my gu into singlet pocket. After losing my alligator headband in Mont-Tremblant, I was super careful with my owl headband, and wrapped it around my wrist, and then dropped my salt cannister. Because evidently I have to drop SOMEthing. But I knew I'd need that salt, so I ran back to get it. Put on my headband, which is surprisingly difficult while running, because you have to take off sunglasses, put sunglasses in mouth, realize you can't put headband over head while sunglasses are in mouth.. it's just complicated. But I got it on, realized it was all twisted and probably you could only see half the owls. I decided I'd deal with that some time later. I forgot to ever deal with it. It was a half-owl sort of run.
My legs felt decent. I was running well. I made sure to keep my effort in check. I had no idea what the course was like, except that it was 4 loops (ugh, 4 loops), and there was some fairly long section of off-road that may or may not be horribly boggy from the Saturday rain.
The bad news is 4 loops. The good news is it's actually 4 out and backs, and when you know everyone out there, you get to see everyone 9 trillion times. As soon as I started the run, I started seeing friends and husbands and other friends, and it's hard to have a negative attitude when you're cheering for other people.
So now I was having an okay time again. I was glad I hadn't quit after the bike. I was enjoying the run. At least when it was overcast. When the sun would come out, it got moderately less enjoyable.
I had convinced myself that my bike had been so slow, and I had started to much later than everyone else, and that those two things combined would mean that people would either be done with the race by the time I started the run, or they'd have one loop left and then I'd be out there alone for my last 3 loops. Each time I'd see someone, I'd think, "Well, that's the last time I'll see them, they're probably headed for the finish line." And then I'd keep seeing them. And again. I became really confused about how time worked, and eventually realized that I hadn't started THAT far behind everyone else, and that a half marathon takes quite some time.
So I ran and cheered and was cheered for and I was happyish again. The off-road part wasn't bad, it wasn't really boggy at all, and the hills were manageable. The road part was better, and the aid stations were plentiful. I knew so many people out there running, and we all exchanged kind words, and then the finish line area was populated by so many people I knew, and they cheered every time I went through. And Kelly shrieked at me. And at some point I shoved my salt cannister at David, because I didn't want anymore salt and I was tired of carrying it. And Tom kept taking pictures of me, which helped me remember to check my form, and at some point I tried to give him a jumping picture and landed wrong and kinda jacked up my foot. And Logan hassled me, wondering where I'd been, because he had to pee. There's advantages and disadvantages to knowing the finish line announcer.
Betsy made me give her some jazzhands, even if I wasn't feeling all that jazzhandy
Oh! And at one point I came up behind someone running very steady and strong, and I realized it was Jody. Jody is 74. Jody is amazing. As I came up behind her, I said, "Jody Kelly! I'm sorry about the profanity, but you're fucking amazing." And lest you think that Grandma Jody was offended by my language, she chirpily replied, "Well, fucking thank you!" Amazing.
After 3 loops of people telling me I looked like I was running really strong, I started to feel a lot less strong. My right IT band was really fatigued and not really singing along anymore, and I felt lurchy. I was devoting a lot of energy to running evenly. The sun was out and it felt warm. My footing was getting less sure on the off-road part. Most people from earlier waves had finished up their last lap and it was thinning out a bit out on the course. So my last loop was a little rough. I was mostly just falling forward, hoping a leg would go out there and catch me each time. And they did. But I'm pretty sure I slowed down for that last loop. I never looked at my watch. I knew it couldn't help.
And then finally I was falling back toward the finish line for the last time, and I was so happy to be finishing. I gave it what I had left, which wasn't a ton, and heard Logan calling me the Little Engine That Could, and crossed that stupid finish line.
Karen's picture of me nearing the finish line
Results
I would have liked a PR, but that wasn't in the cards. Not swim nor bike nor run were a PR, in fact. But my secondary goal was sub-6 and I just squeaked that out with a 5:59:32. Cut that a little close!
Swim: 36:24 (1:53/M)
T1: 1:38
Bike: 3:21:41 (16.7MPH)
T2: 1:47
Run: 1:58:01 (9:01/M)
Total: 5:59:32
I dunno what happened with the swim. The bike was slower than my IMMT bike pace, for half the distance on a much less hilly (but much worse road and wind) course. The run.. I feel like I should be able to do a faster half marathon at the end of a half Ironman, based on my runs off the bike in training, but it never seems to work out that way. But I'm happy with the run, especially given how much I'd given up on the bike. And my transitions were decent!
(My bike computer autosplits every 5 miles, and you can tell where I am on the course according to my average speed per 5 miles: 19.9, 21.8, 18.8, 15.5, 14.5, 15.9, 19.5, 19.1, 15.2, 13.7, 13.4, 12.4 for the last 0.77 miles. Let's guess where Amy just felt completely defeated!)
Honestly, though, averaging 16.7mph over 56 miles isn't bad for me. It's bad in comparison to most of my peers, but I think I'm mostly just disappointed in how I dealt with adversity.
(Speaking of my peers, I was 8th in my age group. Only 4 of those ahead of me swam faster than me. Only TWO of those ahead of me ran faster than me. My T1 was at least 30 seconds faster than all of them. 3 beat me in T2. And every one of them rode at least 20 minutes faster than I did. Argh.)
So I'm not thrilled with my time, and I can't even say, "Well, I just went out to have fun, and I did!" because I really didn't have fun. I remember telling someone at some point that when you do an Ironman, that should probably be the end of your tri season. Doing a half Ironman after that is dumb. I actually would have been happy ending the season with either IMMT or TriRock Olympic. Those were both good races. Instead I've got this race that felt unsuccessful looming over me as my last tri of the season.
But! I had a great weekend cheering on Saturday, and had run cheering for all my fellow racers on Sunday, and had a great time hanging out in Kerrville with Matt. So overall it was a win.
But this just means I need some good running races now that I'm heading into running season!
Time to move on..