Race Report

I did it.

That's all I wanted to be able to say after this race. I know I have this crazy, speed-seeking reputation and all, but honestly, I do triathlon because it pushes me to do things I don't think I can do. The Olympic distance, until Saturday at 12:00pm (approximately!), was something I wasn't entirely sure I could do. A year ago, if you mentioned the distance, I would have said I'd have to be smoking crack to do it. Well, here I am, crack free and I've done it.

It wasn't pretty, though.

So, to the race.

I strolled into transition at 5:30am and couldn't help but notice that nearly every other Diva was already in transition and done with their setup. Seriously, I thought I was early!! I looked like the kid who came to class late. Anyway, I had no trouble getting in, dropped my gear, got marked, and then chatted a bit. I was more concerned with where I was going to use the bathroom than what was happening in transition. To help alleviate all other stress, my Garmin mysteriously turned itself on sometime in the night and had run its battery dead….so I had no way of knowing my speed, distance, or time on the bike or run. Oops. This race was going to be done on perceived exertion…..how can I go all out when I don't know how fast I'm going?

We had a ½ mile walk to the swim start, where I put my wetsuit on at the car and then joined the other Olympians down by the water. The Sprinters were already in their chutes, and the crazy, FAA-rule-breaking NBC helicopter was continuously buzzing by. We took a few photos, chatted, and waited. And waited. And waited. When the Sprinters went off, we started getting nervous again…but then nothing happened and we had to wait some more. So there was time for some "acclimation" in the water and a fabulous photo op with Elvis. I was a wreck until our Elvis photo. How bizarre that this triathlete with a shaved chest dressed up like Elvis actually calmed me down more than my husband or fellow Divas!!

Then it was time.

I wasn't panicky this time around. The thought of doing Pacific Coast had me whimpering at the swim start, but this race I was determined to just get it over with. So I lined up to the far outside in the very front, and then I made them swim over me when the gun went off. It seemed to be pretty smooth compared to the kicking and throttling we witnessed in the Sprint starts. I got out pretty cleanly and managed to stay somewhat close to the front. I never really sighted the big orange buoy too much…..every time I looked up I was headed for it, so that was a plus. About halfway through the swim, we started getting some waves. When we turned towards shore, they started hitting us from the right and I swear, they were almost like rollers out in the Pacific Ocean. They really hit the snot out of us! It was fun, though, and soon enough we were under the bridge and it was time to focus on the bike.

(that's me on the far left!)

I crawled out of the water and when I got to the pavement, whipped that wetsuit right off. I then proceeded to run. Well, not before I looked at my watch. 26 minutes. Holy cow. Either that was not 1500 meters, or I just swam the fastest I ever have. Anyway, this is important, because I then ran my little tush off to get to the mat as fast as I could. Coach said it was ¼ mile according to her Garmin. My transition time was 28 and change, so this means I clocked an 8-minute mile pace up that miserable hill, barefoot, into transition. FYI – I don't run 8-minute miles. I am slow, and 8-minutes is what I muster in an all-out timed mile. And then I vomit immediately afterwards.

So I think this is the first thing that went wrong for me. In my vain quest for a good swim split, I sprinted to transition and blew out my legs. In T1, I quickly got my gear on and sucked down a gel while pushing my bike over the mat.

Hopping onto the bike, my legs were shaking and my heart rate was refusing to come down. I was whooped by the time we got out of the Lake Las Vegas vicinity and onto the multi-use trail. I just have to note here that I carefully studied the elevations on this bike course, and while I'm not so good at measuring how comparable one course is to the other, I was certain Santiago Canyon could kick this course in the rear. But I was WRONG. The 3 sisters (er, Bitches as I am told they are really referred to by Nevada locals) are evil cows. That's what they call the three hills that we hit in the first few miles of our time on the trail. They are fairly short as far as hills are concerned, but the grades were ridiculously high and not something I'd ever encountered before on a road bike. I heard someone say 17% at one point? At any rate, my inner quads were shaking 1/2way up the first and I saw several girls walking towards the top.

I had initially sworn I would never walk these hills, but I started to do some math. These hills finish by mile 9, and then that's it for the hills. So I have 12-15 + miles of downhill and level riding ahead of me, which I knew I could hammer out on "fresh" legs. Why blow out my legs on these ridiculous hills and sacrifice the majority of my bike leg? So what did I do? I clipped out as I neared the top of #1 and walked my sorry butt a few feet up the remaining part of that miserable, god-forsaken hill. I made it up #2 with no problems, but again with #3, I dismounted and started to hike.

And then I got caught in the act. There went Shannon, FLYING up the hill right past me on her little blue bike. Talk about deflating. My fellow Diva saw me walking up the hill on my strongest sport. Oops! But I was supposed to ride my own race and not get injured, so I let it go.

The rest of the bike was easy, minus the insane crosswinds that rocked my bike out on the trail, the headwinds that fought us back up to Lake Las Vegas, and the car that pulled out in front of me in the street right in front of the cops. I almost threw a bottle at him, but decided that I couldn't afford the abandonment penalty. After Hill #3, I was never passed again and was able to pass a few people in my age group, finishing the bike fairly strong. I was insatiably thirsty despite drinking all the liquids on my bike, but I did come into transition at 1:25 feeling pretty good.

I'm not sure how I managed to spend three whole minutes in T2. I did take time to apply sunscreen, but I didn't even rub it in! Oh well. Room for improvement next time.

I was on pace for a 3-hour finish. Or so I thought……….

One of the pros in the race was overheard proclaiming that the run course for this race was VERY HARD and that she felt like she was running on the moon. Honey, we weren't running on the moon. It was more akin to Dante's 1st circle of hell, filled with the virtuous pagans and unbaptized children (you know, that's us—Olympic virgins and those that just don't know any better--- and yes, it's sad that this race actually invoked a Paradise Lost reference from me). Not only was there not enough water out there, but the damn course kept going up and up and out. Denise was right—you would look out and see little ants in the distance. Girls who were faster than you. On the course you had to run…..in the land that looked like the place in all those horror movies where college coeds' cars break down and then some crazy cowboy in a blue pickup stalks them and chops them up? Yeah. That was like the run.

The run chewed me up and spit me out. Between the horrible stomach ache I had, the racing heart rate that refused to settle, and this overwhelming voice in my head saying "just stop trying so hard—this is torture—just walk," I was in pretty bad shape for the first few miles. I had seen Shannon out of transition, but lost sight of her after she ran up the first hill and I ended up walking. I was pretty much alone for quite some time and just had no concept of how far I'd gone or how I'd be able to salvage the run. (Darn the Garmin for dying on me!) I walked up the hills, ran the downhills and the flats, and spent as much time as I could downing water at the aid stations and dousing myself. Robin told me to keep drinking to make my stomach feel better, and she was right. After I got out of that horrid wasteland of a course out in back of the resort, I was back in the groove. Run a mile, walk a minute. I stopped getting passed. I kept moving forward. And I kept thinking to myself, "there is no way anybody could possibly convince me to run longer in a triathlon."

I'd just like to state that all the people at the transition area saying that the finish line was only a mile away….only six minutes away….almost there --- they were wrotten and cruel liars. That was the longest mile of my life, then! It was such a tease to run through the excitement of transition only to have more race left to run. And then snaking through the village and finishing UP another freaking hill? Insanity, I tell you. But I kept running for the sake of the camera crew and because my fellow Divas had stuck around to cheer us on through the finish chute. And then it was over, and instead of crying like I thought I would, I had no emotion at all. The run had sucked my poor brain dry. I was proud that I had finished, but a little disappointed in my run and in the end, was a bit upset to see that I wasn't as high up on the results list as I'd like to have been. I know, I'm so shallow. It just means I'll have to train harder and focus on my newfound weaknesses so that I can hammer out Danskin and redeem myself at Pendleton!