HITS Marble Falls Half Ironman 2014 race report.
This was Karen's fault. I was prepared for that to be my mantra, if things got tough.
Karen's signed up for Ironman Texas in May, and wanted to do a half Ironman before, as a training race. She asked me if I wanted to do a little girl's trip with her to do Galveston, and I shrugged and said, "Sure." Then she said, "Oh, wait, I can't do Galveston, I'll be out of town. What about the HITS Marble Falls half?" And I shrugged and said, "Sure." And then forgot about it for a long time. Eventually it got to be about 2 weeks before the race, and we hadn't really discussed it, or signed up, so I touched base with Karen, and she was thinking of not doing it. Meanwhile I'd already verified with Kelly that she thought it was a good idea, and she.. still thought it was a good idea. So now I was afraid that Karen was going to decide not to sign up, but I'd still have to do it, and I'd be up there all alone. (Matt was staying home with the pets, so didn't have to shell out tons of boarding money again, like we did the weekend before at EHCT.)
So I signed up, then Karen ended up signing up, and we had our girl's trip after all. Meanwhile at some point, AFTER signing up, I thought, "Hm. I should look at the course map." And I didn't really end up doing that, because I was already signed up, so why freak myself out? I had heard it was hilly, but I need hills, so that's good.
Aaaanyway, fast forward to race weekend. Karen and I drove to Marble Falls, arrived halfway through one of the pre-race meetings (which I usually never attend, but this one was actually not only useful, but somewhat required, because the logistics of this thing were.. ridiculous), dropped off our bikes, and nearly passed out from heat exhaustion in the parking lot. Hey, look! Summer's here! (The season. Also Summer the person, coincidentally.) Yay, first really hot weekend, just in time for our race.
After some pasta for dinner (thanks for the recommendation, Marble Falls resident Kelly Green), I made sure all my stuff was ready and headed to bed early. And slept really well! As much as I love those pets, they sure don't help with deep sleeping.
Race morning was pretty uneventful. It's a two transition race, so we parked at T2 and dropped off our run gear, then hopped on a shuttle and made it to T1 with plenty of time to get our bike gear set up and our wetsuits on. I was afraid the shuttle thing was a potential disaster, but it was flawless for us.
After a pre-race meeting with the race director, we waded into the water. It was a mass start of all the half and full Iron athletes, which turned out to only be around 300 people. Still, much bigger than a standard age group start. I wasn't sure where to be.. in a standard Ironman mass start, I'd never be near the front, but that's exactly where I ended up. Right in the front in the middle. Well, one row back, because Kicky McKickerjerk kept treading his feet directly into my stomach, so I moved back to give him room. Summer was right behind me, hoping to stick to my feet in the fray and draft off me.
I was prepared for the usual suddenly-they-say-go-with-no-warning, but we actually got a 10 second countdown from the crowd, and then we were off!
Swim 1.2 miles
I was expecting things to be slightly rough, especially with so many guys up with me, but it really, really wasn't. I was surrounded by people for the first 10 minutes, all packed together, but nearly nobody touched me. It was quite lovely. I settled into a rhythm, kept sighting regularly, and before I knew it, I was out at the first turn buoy. I turned, swam, turned again and was headed back. This swim was going by very quickly.
I found a pair of feet on the way back in that wove around a little, so I just used them when they happened to weave my direction for a while. The way back was a little strange, because there weren't any buoys, so nobody really knew where we should be swimming. Everyone stuck pretty close to the shore, but as we made our way back to the bridge, we had to start angling in to the middle, since we finally found a buoy, and it was way over in the middle of the lake.
There has been some supposition about the swim being short, and I certainly felt like it was over incredibly quickly, so perhaps that's true.
I didn't look at my watch as I climbed out of the water, figuring I'd look when I crossed a timing mat, but then I never saw one, so I never looked. Results say I swam a 33:38, which would be ~1:36/100 yards, which seems unlikely. Not impossible, but I'd say unlikely, so maybe short.
T1
The race director said in the pre-race meeting, just half an hour ago, that he didn't know if they would have wetsuit strippers, but as I ran up the hill (hi, Carolyn!), a volunteer said there were strippers up there. I got my wetsuit down to my hips, then flopped on the ground while a kindly volunteer ripped it the rest of the way off.
Between my swim, the run up the hill, and general race adrenaline, I was breathing pretty fast, and when I got to my bike, I was a bit of a mess. I was trying to shove my wetsuit and stuff in a bag to leave there for transport, but kept missing and everything was just very awkward. I thought I'd heard that maybe we didn't even need everything in the bag, that they do it for us (see? shoulda attended that whole meeting the day before), but I didn't want to lose my wetsuit, so I made sure that was in the bag. Put on my helmet and sunglasses, grabbed my bike, realized I hadn't put my handtowel in my bag, decided that was expendable in the case that they didn't pack my stuff, and just tossed it on top of my bags, and ran my bike out, breathing heavily the whole time.
Bike 56 miles
Since there were really no spectators at the mount line, my mount was perfect (no performance anxiety), and I was off. (Hi, Roger!)
The course started off mostly the same as Marble Falls Tri, which means straight uphill. My breathing was seriously out of control, and with the hill, I just couldn't settle it down. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and felt like I was crawling up the hill. The hill lasts for a few miles, during which time I had plenty of opportunity to think "I remember not particularly liking Marble Falls Tri, and I definitely never thought to myself, 'Boy, I'd like to do this again, only like twice as long!'" And yet here I was again.
Eventually I got to the turn onto 71, and at least the road briefly got better, and the hill let up for a few minutes. But I was still incredibly uncomfortable. In addition to not being able to catch my breath, my legs just felt horrible. Not my calves or my quads or anything you might figure would hurt on hills, but what felt like my adductors and pelvis. Everything just felt so tight and uncomfortable and I kept having to get out of the saddle to try to stretch things out or alleviate this feeling somehow. But it just wouldn't go away, and I was completely miserable and seriously considering a DNF. I couldn't ride like this for 56 miles and then run a half marathon. Or if I did, I might end up seriously injuring myself, which means a DNF is the smart choice.
Karen rode by me during this time, and asked how I was, and I told her I was miserable. I didn't even try to put a good face on it. Riding just hurt.
And then shortly thereafter, before I had made any sort of decision.. things were fine. Whatever it was that was so tight evidently loosened up, and riding felt normal again. I mean, it was still relentless hills and crappy chipseal roads, but it was reassuring to know that I wasn't just being a big baby because of relentless hills and chipseal roads, and that there had been something going on with my body. I still don't know what it was, but I was really happy that it was done doing that.
Okay, so now things just became your standard brand of miserable. We rode past T2 into another logistical nightmare, which is that the shoulder of 71 housed the following things: people going out on bikes, people going out on the run, people coming back in on the run. All on a single shoulder of a single side of the road. Granted, at this point there WERE no runners, but there were cones dividing the shoulder, and cyclists were to stay on the left side of the cones, which isn't a ton of room. Add in people then deciding to pass on the RIGHT, inside the cones, and it was just a weird, potentially-dangerous scene.
But even though I question the wisdom of this setup, I never saw anything actually bad happen because of it, so I just grumbled to myself as people passed me on the right. And pass me they did. My decent swim combined with my less decent ride meant lots and lots and lots of people passing me on the bike. Used to it. Didn't let it get to me. Doin' what I can. And look, alpacas! That helped.
Eventually we turned off 71 onto some little country roads with two out and backs. And more hills. Always hills. The wind picked up over the course of the day, which made things better or worse depending on which direction you were riding. There was one section with a tailwind that I could have done all day. I felt strong THERE, at least.
Then finally coming back in, 10 miles to go, turning back on 71. Hey, back on 71 means better pavement! (Mostly.) And just as I was celebrating that, I was hit in the face with a wall of headwind. Oof. That's going to be a long 10 miles.
And it was. So slow. So many hills into a headwind. Some entertainment in the form of runners out on the run course now! I cheered for all of them as I slowly, slowly rode by on the other side of the road. And I made note of how miserable they all looked. These huge hills I was riding up and down on my bike would very soon be the same huge hills I'd be running up and down. On the shoulder of a highway. Half of a half of the shoulder of a highway. With no shade.
The good news is, it had been overcast the entire day so far. In fact, as I was riding back on 71, it started to sprinkle a little. I crossed my fingers it might start raining, offering huge apologies to the people still behind me on the bike. But then the drizzle tapered off, never to be seen again.
Put my head down and gutted it up the last really big hill in my granniest of gears, so happy to almost be done. Then one more roller, and as I sped down the hill, I managed to get my feet out of my shoes. I'd put on socks in T1, which I don't normally do, because they'd warned us that we'd actually have to dismount on the shoulder of the highway and cross the highway walking our bikes, and I was afraid if it was really sunny, I'd burn my feet if I were both sockless and shoeless. It turned out it wouldn't have been an issue, given the overcastness, but no regrets. Except for where I now had my feet on top of my shoes, and still had a little short hill to ride up. Awkward.
T2
But I dismounted at the dismount line (behind a girl who tried to turn into the parking lot still on her bike and got yelled at a lot), ran my bike across the highway, up a driveway, onto a curb, through some grass, into a parking lot, into transition, and to.. uh.. wherever my bike went. Which I couldn't find. I found the numbering system on the bike racks completely mystifying every time I tried to figure it out. I ran around to 3 different rows trying to find my space. FINALLY found it, racked my bike, and proceeded to transition.
I may or may not have peed on the bike (I actually had no plans to, but then.. I had to pee, and there were so few people out there, especially after everyone passed me.. why not?), but I still had to pee when I got into transition. I figured I'd hit a portapotty on my way out, but then I didn't see any, and I had to put my shoes on anyway, so I sat and put my shoes on and may or may not have peed. Did I mention this was a parking lot? Yeah, not too subtle. But again.. nobody around!
After I was done tying my shoes (didn't bother with quicklaces, as this will probably be the only triathlon I do before Ultraman), I shoved my hat on, stuffed Gu and salt in my pockets, and headed out.
Run 13.1 miles
I wasn't really greatly looking forward to this run. I'd now ridden the entire course twice, and I knew exactly how hilly it was. As I ran by Carolyn again, I said "This run looks fuuuuuuuun," with all the sarcasm I could muster (which is a lot!).
And the run was almost exactly as much fun as I anticipated.
The good:
- I passed a ton of people. I had passed exactly zero people on the bike, and on the run I was passed by exactly zero people, but passed back some of those who'd passed me on the bike.
- I felt strong; I had nailed my nutrition and hydration on the bike, so I felt good starting, and I took a gu every 3-4 miles, salt pills twice, and I never felt bad or bonkish
- I planned to and did walk through every aid station (they were every 1.5 miles) to drink water and take Gu or salt, but only walked as long as it took to drink, and then ran again; I ran up every damn hill
The bad:
- The sun came out during the run
Really, even though it was an incredibly hard course, even though the sun came out, even though my legs were tired from the hilly bike, I felt like I did a really great job on that course. I wasn't breaking any speed records, but I was passing people who were walking, I was consistent, and I was positive. Well, when Karen was coming back in as I was going out, I did yell, "Karen! I want a motherfucking milkshake!" But that was just to hopefully make her laugh. (Our post-race plan involved a milkshake.)
I just put my head down and kept putting one foot in front of the other, cheering for the insane people going back out on their bikes for their second loop of the full Ironman course, cheering for the people coming out as I was going back in, cheering for the people I'd cheered for on MY way out, as they went back in, who I was now passing.
And eventually I made my way up that stupidly long hill that I remembered from the bike, but which was 10 times worse on the run, then up those little rollers, and to the turn for the parking lot. The cones were confusing as hell as I came back in, and I figured I'd probably accidentally end up back in transition, and that would be really awkward, but I managed to figure it out, ran by a bunch of people cheering for me, and then turned for the finish line! I mustered up enough energy to do a victory jump at the finish line, and then FINALLY was done.
After
So, yeah, that was a miserable race. I think that's a one-and-done for me. Hardest half course I've ever done, for sure. I think I was more miserable in Hawaii, at least during the run, and maybe more miserable on the run at BSLT, but this was definitely the hardest bike and run course I've done. Very glad to be done with that.
Results
We knew Karen had placed in her age group, but they didn't have full results up by the time awards happened, so I wasn't sure how I'd done. I crossed my fingers, but when they announced awards for my age group, no such luck. Looking at the results (that's a pdf) now, I just barely missed it, coming in 4th in my AG (though I didn't just barely miss it, time-wise, I was minutes behind 3rd place). Of course, if I'd been in any OTHER age group, older or younger, I would have been 2nd or 3rd. Doh.
Results:
Swim: 00:33:38.712 (1:36/100yds)
T1: 00:02:19.208
Bike: 03:30:28.103 (15.96 mph)
T2: 00:02:50.614
Run: 01:57:54.520 (9:00/mile)
Total: 06:07:11.157
Going in, I was hoping to come in sub-6. When I started my run, I glanced at my watch and saw something like 4:09. I knew I couldn't pull of a sub-6 at that point, and figured I'd just do what I could.
Initially I was pretty bummed about my bike time. But given the course and given the hills I've ridden this year (not many), and given when I rode the only hills I've ridden this year (one week ago, for 180 miles), I'm actually pretty okay with that. As soon as I felt okay, I kept my effort up and my attitude positive, and did what I could. I even kept eating and drinking when things got hard. All good training for the Ultraman bike.
And then, when I started my run, I would never have figured I could have pulled off a sub-2 on that course, in those conditions, given how I felt. So that's a major victory, too.
So overall, I'm gonna call this a win. It was hard as shit, but I managed to pull of a very solid Ultraman training day with some strong hills and good paces, and kept my head together and mostly positive.
And then we got a milkshake.
Karen's signed up for Ironman Texas in May, and wanted to do a half Ironman before, as a training race. She asked me if I wanted to do a little girl's trip with her to do Galveston, and I shrugged and said, "Sure." Then she said, "Oh, wait, I can't do Galveston, I'll be out of town. What about the HITS Marble Falls half?" And I shrugged and said, "Sure." And then forgot about it for a long time. Eventually it got to be about 2 weeks before the race, and we hadn't really discussed it, or signed up, so I touched base with Karen, and she was thinking of not doing it. Meanwhile I'd already verified with Kelly that she thought it was a good idea, and she.. still thought it was a good idea. So now I was afraid that Karen was going to decide not to sign up, but I'd still have to do it, and I'd be up there all alone. (Matt was staying home with the pets, so didn't have to shell out tons of boarding money again, like we did the weekend before at EHCT.)
So I signed up, then Karen ended up signing up, and we had our girl's trip after all. Meanwhile at some point, AFTER signing up, I thought, "Hm. I should look at the course map." And I didn't really end up doing that, because I was already signed up, so why freak myself out? I had heard it was hilly, but I need hills, so that's good.
Aaaanyway, fast forward to race weekend. Karen and I drove to Marble Falls, arrived halfway through one of the pre-race meetings (which I usually never attend, but this one was actually not only useful, but somewhat required, because the logistics of this thing were.. ridiculous), dropped off our bikes, and nearly passed out from heat exhaustion in the parking lot. Hey, look! Summer's here! (The season. Also Summer the person, coincidentally.) Yay, first really hot weekend, just in time for our race.
After some pasta for dinner (thanks for the recommendation, Marble Falls resident Kelly Green), I made sure all my stuff was ready and headed to bed early. And slept really well! As much as I love those pets, they sure don't help with deep sleeping.
Race morning was pretty uneventful. It's a two transition race, so we parked at T2 and dropped off our run gear, then hopped on a shuttle and made it to T1 with plenty of time to get our bike gear set up and our wetsuits on. I was afraid the shuttle thing was a potential disaster, but it was flawless for us.
After a pre-race meeting with the race director, we waded into the water. It was a mass start of all the half and full Iron athletes, which turned out to only be around 300 people. Still, much bigger than a standard age group start. I wasn't sure where to be.. in a standard Ironman mass start, I'd never be near the front, but that's exactly where I ended up. Right in the front in the middle. Well, one row back, because Kicky McKickerjerk kept treading his feet directly into my stomach, so I moved back to give him room. Summer was right behind me, hoping to stick to my feet in the fray and draft off me.
I was prepared for the usual suddenly-they-say-go-with-no-warning, but we actually got a 10 second countdown from the crowd, and then we were off!
Swim 1.2 miles
I was expecting things to be slightly rough, especially with so many guys up with me, but it really, really wasn't. I was surrounded by people for the first 10 minutes, all packed together, but nearly nobody touched me. It was quite lovely. I settled into a rhythm, kept sighting regularly, and before I knew it, I was out at the first turn buoy. I turned, swam, turned again and was headed back. This swim was going by very quickly.
I found a pair of feet on the way back in that wove around a little, so I just used them when they happened to weave my direction for a while. The way back was a little strange, because there weren't any buoys, so nobody really knew where we should be swimming. Everyone stuck pretty close to the shore, but as we made our way back to the bridge, we had to start angling in to the middle, since we finally found a buoy, and it was way over in the middle of the lake.
There has been some supposition about the swim being short, and I certainly felt like it was over incredibly quickly, so perhaps that's true.
I didn't look at my watch as I climbed out of the water, figuring I'd look when I crossed a timing mat, but then I never saw one, so I never looked. Results say I swam a 33:38, which would be ~1:36/100 yards, which seems unlikely. Not impossible, but I'd say unlikely, so maybe short.
T1
The race director said in the pre-race meeting, just half an hour ago, that he didn't know if they would have wetsuit strippers, but as I ran up the hill (hi, Carolyn!), a volunteer said there were strippers up there. I got my wetsuit down to my hips, then flopped on the ground while a kindly volunteer ripped it the rest of the way off.
Between my swim, the run up the hill, and general race adrenaline, I was breathing pretty fast, and when I got to my bike, I was a bit of a mess. I was trying to shove my wetsuit and stuff in a bag to leave there for transport, but kept missing and everything was just very awkward. I thought I'd heard that maybe we didn't even need everything in the bag, that they do it for us (see? shoulda attended that whole meeting the day before), but I didn't want to lose my wetsuit, so I made sure that was in the bag. Put on my helmet and sunglasses, grabbed my bike, realized I hadn't put my handtowel in my bag, decided that was expendable in the case that they didn't pack my stuff, and just tossed it on top of my bags, and ran my bike out, breathing heavily the whole time.
Bike 56 miles
Since there were really no spectators at the mount line, my mount was perfect (no performance anxiety), and I was off. (Hi, Roger!)
The course started off mostly the same as Marble Falls Tri, which means straight uphill. My breathing was seriously out of control, and with the hill, I just couldn't settle it down. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and felt like I was crawling up the hill. The hill lasts for a few miles, during which time I had plenty of opportunity to think "I remember not particularly liking Marble Falls Tri, and I definitely never thought to myself, 'Boy, I'd like to do this again, only like twice as long!'" And yet here I was again.
Eventually I got to the turn onto 71, and at least the road briefly got better, and the hill let up for a few minutes. But I was still incredibly uncomfortable. In addition to not being able to catch my breath, my legs just felt horrible. Not my calves or my quads or anything you might figure would hurt on hills, but what felt like my adductors and pelvis. Everything just felt so tight and uncomfortable and I kept having to get out of the saddle to try to stretch things out or alleviate this feeling somehow. But it just wouldn't go away, and I was completely miserable and seriously considering a DNF. I couldn't ride like this for 56 miles and then run a half marathon. Or if I did, I might end up seriously injuring myself, which means a DNF is the smart choice.
Karen rode by me during this time, and asked how I was, and I told her I was miserable. I didn't even try to put a good face on it. Riding just hurt.
And then shortly thereafter, before I had made any sort of decision.. things were fine. Whatever it was that was so tight evidently loosened up, and riding felt normal again. I mean, it was still relentless hills and crappy chipseal roads, but it was reassuring to know that I wasn't just being a big baby because of relentless hills and chipseal roads, and that there had been something going on with my body. I still don't know what it was, but I was really happy that it was done doing that.
Okay, so now things just became your standard brand of miserable. We rode past T2 into another logistical nightmare, which is that the shoulder of 71 housed the following things: people going out on bikes, people going out on the run, people coming back in on the run. All on a single shoulder of a single side of the road. Granted, at this point there WERE no runners, but there were cones dividing the shoulder, and cyclists were to stay on the left side of the cones, which isn't a ton of room. Add in people then deciding to pass on the RIGHT, inside the cones, and it was just a weird, potentially-dangerous scene.
But even though I question the wisdom of this setup, I never saw anything actually bad happen because of it, so I just grumbled to myself as people passed me on the right. And pass me they did. My decent swim combined with my less decent ride meant lots and lots and lots of people passing me on the bike. Used to it. Didn't let it get to me. Doin' what I can. And look, alpacas! That helped.
Eventually we turned off 71 onto some little country roads with two out and backs. And more hills. Always hills. The wind picked up over the course of the day, which made things better or worse depending on which direction you were riding. There was one section with a tailwind that I could have done all day. I felt strong THERE, at least.
Then finally coming back in, 10 miles to go, turning back on 71. Hey, back on 71 means better pavement! (Mostly.) And just as I was celebrating that, I was hit in the face with a wall of headwind. Oof. That's going to be a long 10 miles.
And it was. So slow. So many hills into a headwind. Some entertainment in the form of runners out on the run course now! I cheered for all of them as I slowly, slowly rode by on the other side of the road. And I made note of how miserable they all looked. These huge hills I was riding up and down on my bike would very soon be the same huge hills I'd be running up and down. On the shoulder of a highway. Half of a half of the shoulder of a highway. With no shade.
The good news is, it had been overcast the entire day so far. In fact, as I was riding back on 71, it started to sprinkle a little. I crossed my fingers it might start raining, offering huge apologies to the people still behind me on the bike. But then the drizzle tapered off, never to be seen again.
Put my head down and gutted it up the last really big hill in my granniest of gears, so happy to almost be done. Then one more roller, and as I sped down the hill, I managed to get my feet out of my shoes. I'd put on socks in T1, which I don't normally do, because they'd warned us that we'd actually have to dismount on the shoulder of the highway and cross the highway walking our bikes, and I was afraid if it was really sunny, I'd burn my feet if I were both sockless and shoeless. It turned out it wouldn't have been an issue, given the overcastness, but no regrets. Except for where I now had my feet on top of my shoes, and still had a little short hill to ride up. Awkward.
T2
But I dismounted at the dismount line (behind a girl who tried to turn into the parking lot still on her bike and got yelled at a lot), ran my bike across the highway, up a driveway, onto a curb, through some grass, into a parking lot, into transition, and to.. uh.. wherever my bike went. Which I couldn't find. I found the numbering system on the bike racks completely mystifying every time I tried to figure it out. I ran around to 3 different rows trying to find my space. FINALLY found it, racked my bike, and proceeded to transition.
I may or may not have peed on the bike (I actually had no plans to, but then.. I had to pee, and there were so few people out there, especially after everyone passed me.. why not?), but I still had to pee when I got into transition. I figured I'd hit a portapotty on my way out, but then I didn't see any, and I had to put my shoes on anyway, so I sat and put my shoes on and may or may not have peed. Did I mention this was a parking lot? Yeah, not too subtle. But again.. nobody around!
After I was done tying my shoes (didn't bother with quicklaces, as this will probably be the only triathlon I do before Ultraman), I shoved my hat on, stuffed Gu and salt in my pockets, and headed out.
Run 13.1 miles
I wasn't really greatly looking forward to this run. I'd now ridden the entire course twice, and I knew exactly how hilly it was. As I ran by Carolyn again, I said "This run looks fuuuuuuuun," with all the sarcasm I could muster (which is a lot!).
And the run was almost exactly as much fun as I anticipated.
The good:
- I passed a ton of people. I had passed exactly zero people on the bike, and on the run I was passed by exactly zero people, but passed back some of those who'd passed me on the bike.
- I felt strong; I had nailed my nutrition and hydration on the bike, so I felt good starting, and I took a gu every 3-4 miles, salt pills twice, and I never felt bad or bonkish
- I planned to and did walk through every aid station (they were every 1.5 miles) to drink water and take Gu or salt, but only walked as long as it took to drink, and then ran again; I ran up every damn hill
The bad:
- The sun came out during the run
Really, even though it was an incredibly hard course, even though the sun came out, even though my legs were tired from the hilly bike, I felt like I did a really great job on that course. I wasn't breaking any speed records, but I was passing people who were walking, I was consistent, and I was positive. Well, when Karen was coming back in as I was going out, I did yell, "Karen! I want a motherfucking milkshake!" But that was just to hopefully make her laugh. (Our post-race plan involved a milkshake.)
I just put my head down and kept putting one foot in front of the other, cheering for the insane people going back out on their bikes for their second loop of the full Ironman course, cheering for the people coming out as I was going back in, cheering for the people I'd cheered for on MY way out, as they went back in, who I was now passing.
And eventually I made my way up that stupidly long hill that I remembered from the bike, but which was 10 times worse on the run, then up those little rollers, and to the turn for the parking lot. The cones were confusing as hell as I came back in, and I figured I'd probably accidentally end up back in transition, and that would be really awkward, but I managed to figure it out, ran by a bunch of people cheering for me, and then turned for the finish line! I mustered up enough energy to do a victory jump at the finish line, and then FINALLY was done.
After
So, yeah, that was a miserable race. I think that's a one-and-done for me. Hardest half course I've ever done, for sure. I think I was more miserable in Hawaii, at least during the run, and maybe more miserable on the run at BSLT, but this was definitely the hardest bike and run course I've done. Very glad to be done with that.
Results
We knew Karen had placed in her age group, but they didn't have full results up by the time awards happened, so I wasn't sure how I'd done. I crossed my fingers, but when they announced awards for my age group, no such luck. Looking at the results (that's a pdf) now, I just barely missed it, coming in 4th in my AG (though I didn't just barely miss it, time-wise, I was minutes behind 3rd place). Of course, if I'd been in any OTHER age group, older or younger, I would have been 2nd or 3rd. Doh.
Results:
Swim: 00:33:38.712 (1:36/100yds)
T1: 00:02:19.208
Bike: 03:30:28.103 (15.96 mph)
T2: 00:02:50.614
Run: 01:57:54.520 (9:00/mile)
Total: 06:07:11.157
Going in, I was hoping to come in sub-6. When I started my run, I glanced at my watch and saw something like 4:09. I knew I couldn't pull of a sub-6 at that point, and figured I'd just do what I could.
Initially I was pretty bummed about my bike time. But given the course and given the hills I've ridden this year (not many), and given when I rode the only hills I've ridden this year (one week ago, for 180 miles), I'm actually pretty okay with that. As soon as I felt okay, I kept my effort up and my attitude positive, and did what I could. I even kept eating and drinking when things got hard. All good training for the Ultraman bike.
And then, when I started my run, I would never have figured I could have pulled off a sub-2 on that course, in those conditions, given how I felt. So that's a major victory, too.
So overall, I'm gonna call this a win. It was hard as shit, but I managed to pull of a very solid Ultraman training day with some strong hills and good paces, and kept my head together and mostly positive.
And then we got a milkshake.