Hills, heat, and the Hudson!

(Also my apologies, this post is unconscionably long.)

This weekend was my first tri since Nation’s last year, and just my second since the crash. I’ve been doing daily two-a-days and trying to put in hours on the road to get my bike confidence back up. If nothing else I felt very fit going into the race.

My racing buddy for the weekend was my bunkie Diana. Bunks and I have known each other over twenty years (!!) having attended the greatest camp in the world (Brown Ledge spirit never dies!) for eight summers just outside Burlington, VT. Over the winter I suggested we sign up for the NYC Tri lottery, and wonder of wonders, we both got in!

I was SO PUMPED to do this race, and my friends’ and family’s (justifiable?) concerns about voluntarily swimming with the (dead) fishes in the Hudson could not thwart my enthusiasm. What could be better than a tri in the greatest city on earth?! (That point is not up for debate.) Plus it would be a new place to race close enough to DC that it would still be easy to transport my bike. Right? RIGHT?

Ahem, wrong. The entire week preceding the race was passed frantically obsessing over whether to drive or take Amtrak. So many pros and cons were weighed against each other, each time yielding a different answer.

The drive between NYC and DC is completely unpredictable. I’ve done it in under four hours, and I’ve had it take as many as nine. (During which I had to pee for the final three.) I was going alone and don’t love alone road trips, and having a very pricey bike on the back of the car really complicates bathroom breaks on the road. Plus with NYC Tri being the earliest race ever and plans to follow it with a brunch at which I would definitely be craving alcohol of the bottomless variety, driving was a scary option for its falling-asleep-at-the-wheel potential and brunch option limitations.

But taking the train would mean lugging all my race shit, including most impossibly, my beloved (Cervelo P3) Koopa Troop. I don’t have a facncy travel pack yet that would allow me to check KT safely, so I would have to wheel or carry him onto the train. I called Amtrak and they said that was fine, I could put him in a wheelchair spot as long as no one in an actual wheel chair needed it. (KT is kind of like a wheelchair, in that he has wheels and I sit on him.) Once on the train I would again have the challenge of keeping an eye on him, which would be difficult unless I could get there early and snag a seat next to the wheelchair space. This would be doable in DC where the Amtrak employees have heard of lines and don’t take sadistic pleasure in throwing a train’s departure gate up on an antiquated ticker four and a half minutes before said train is supposed to depart. Yes I am describing the violent cattle call that is boarding  a train at Penn Station, and given their boarding “procedure” at Penn, there was no way to ensure I could get on early and snag KT the wheelchair spot I so needed. Plus I’d have to get KT and everything else to and from Penn whereas with my car I could drive right up to the hotel and valet.

All this could have more succintly been boiled down to: the Tuesday before the race I booked a train. That Friday, ten hours before that train was to depart, I cancelled it. I got a full refund, because, with the exception of the hellscape that is its Penn Station “operation”, Amtrak is awesome.

So Saturday a.m. I got up at 6am so that I could leave via car (my little green Mini Cooper, Yoshi) no later than 7am. At 7:35am I got on the road. (I think that’s still pretty good.)

My trip up was really easy. I managed to do it with just one bathroom/gas stop and made it to the race hotel, the Hilton Midtown, around 11:45. I valet’ed Yoshi and checked my luggage as my room was not ready. Then I went up to the expo where race organizers had the foresight to offer bike valet. This was a lifesaver. I checked Koppa Troop and then wandered around waiting for Bunkie Diana who was coming from far far away Greenwich, Connecticut. (I am joking right here because Greenwich is in fact many hours closer to midtown Manhattan than DC, and yet I beat her by many hours. Also I gave her an entire package of shot blocks and she is now forever in my debt and I will never forget.)

When Bunks (finally!) got in around 2, we attended one of the mandatory safety briefings, (NYC Tri takes safety incredibly seriously, probably because everyone already thinks they/we are lunatics for the whole swimming in the Hudson situation) picked up our packets, did a little expo shopping, and then finally checked into our hotel room. From there we had to haul ass up to transition to drop off our bikes and some gear to make the morning easier, before hustling back downtown for an earlybird pasta dinner and then immediately back to the hotel for bed.

The alarm went off 4am on Sunday morning. We should have made it earlier but both of us had a mental block about anything in the 3s. We had meticulously laid out everything we would need the night before (and applied our sweet arm tats), so we just had to roll out of bed, force feed ourselves (bananas and english muffins with peanut butter), fill up our water bottles with ice, water and nutrition, pre-condition our hair, and go.

If that didn’t look like that short a list, good eye. It wasn’t, and we ended up on a later shuttle than we had planned. Our transition area closed at 5:15am, and as we walked up we heard the announcer say it was just past 5 o’clock. With less than fifteen minutes before we’d have to trek up to the swim start we went running for our bikes and barely got tires inflated (in the crazy heat we had both deflated our tires a bit the night before) and gear arranged before we were being ordered out under threats of penalties and DQs.

So at around 5:17am we and a few thousand others began the mile+ march to the swim start. It was probably around 5:40 when we got there, and we both needed the porta potties stat. (You know how I am; after my bike fears my pre-race bathroom rituals are probably the most popular [poo-pular, anyone?] topic on this silly site.) The porta lines were not bad, organizers did a good job providing the needed facilities, so we took care of that very necessary pre-race ritual, dropped off gear bags, and made it down to the corrals to wetsuit up in plenty of time.

I finally got to wear the incredible Huub suit Scott got me for my birthday last year. He had given it to me early for Nation’s, but then the sewage content was deemed just too high in the Potomac so we didn’t swim. Not so in the Hudson though! I wiggled into my new suit and it fit and felt great, and in I went!

Ahh the swim. Understandable disgust aside, it was lovely. At 4am it was already in the 80s, so by 6:50 (when my wave got in) the 73 degree water felt great. Plus we got to swim with the current point-to-point, so at twenty-two minutes it was an Olympic swim PR for me. (Diana, grew up a swimmer and crushed it at 16 minutes. She’s gross. Remember that time I gave her my shot blocks? I do. )

After the swim came one of my few complaints about this race: the half mile run back to transition. Barefoot of course. If you look at race results, you’ll notice that everyone’s T1 times are absurdly long. I came out of the water having to pee, so with the much-needed bathroom break I clocked an embarrassing 10 minutes. The million mile path to transition was also very narrow, and because it ran next to the bike out path it was very hard to pass anyone without getting a face full of front wheel, so I was forced to run it about half the pace I otherwise would have. Again, 10 minutes. Again, super embarassing.

Then, obviously, it was time to bike. Ya know how I’ve become a basket case on my bike? Of course you do, it’s like all I ever talk about here (besides my tiny nervous bladder). Well this weekend was extra terrible for the nerves as the bike course started up a steep hill that had me totally intimidated and certain that I was going to fall and cause a pile up. Diana and I walked the incline out of transition after racking our bike’s Saturday, and I proceeded to panic all through dinner and our evening and morning prep. Saturday night I was so distraught I called (race crush speed goddess) Ellen and she talked me through some visualization exercises that were incredibly calming. At one point she said that often our minds and not our bodies are what limit us. So true. I fell asleep Saturday practicing the visualization and kept it up in all morning Sunday, even during the swim. I really did feel calmer than I thought possible once I mounted the bike.

I hit the course and headed for the incline of my nightmares, and guess what? Diana and I had walked the wrong hill!! Yes it was steep, but it was not the soul and quad-crusher we’d hiked the afternoon before. Once at the top I looked around and had one of happiest moments I’ve ever experienced in a race of any kind. From there I thought, I’ve totally got this. Diana had done this race once before and told me after the first hill the bike was mostly flat!

Diana lied.

Even after I gave her those shot blocks.

The bike was definitely not flat, the hills rolled all the way through the out and back. None were too steep, but they were LONG. I saw multiple people stall and have to walk half way up a couple. Despite my previous fear, hills are actually kinda my jam. Being miniature, I’ve got a lot less mass than most people to haul up. Plus I teach a lot of heavy resistance in spin, and I think I’m pretty strong when it comes to climbing. So while my time wasn’t that great over all and nowhere near a PR (1:28, just under 17 mph, meh) I did spend a lot of the race passing people uphill. (Many passed me right back on the downhill, but I still felt high on myself. [High-get it? Like because I was on top of a hill???])

My only complaint about the bike was that there were a few spots that got really narrow and it became harder to pass people. And at one point a photographer’s motorcycle crept slowly right alongside me as I tried to pass a big clump of people on a long stretch of incline. He blocked my way about half a mile (and really pissed me off) and I’d like to think this held my pace back some. Then again, during the second half of the ride after the turn around,  I realized several times that I’d basically stopped trying and was enjoying the scenery a little too much to be competetive. So really I recognize that the slow pace was (almost) all my own doing.

Oh! No! One more complaint about the bike: the turn-around was in fact a tad shy of the halfway mark, because right at the end the course designers threw in a little mindfuck of a switchback at the bottom of a hill. After a pretty legit decline they forced everyone to almost a halt for a tight u-turn and then immediately back that same hill, but without benefit of momentum. Thanks for that guys. I take back what I said about the slow pace being my own fault. I am absolved.

As always, dismounting and entering transition to hit the run was a great feeling. Running I love. Always. I’m good at it and not scared of it. And no matter what it’s enjoyable and feels great.

In related knews, remember that murder-hill that I thought was the start of the bike course but then wasn’t? Yeah, it was the start of the run course. HAHA COURSE DESIGNERS YOU ARE THE FUNNIEST EVER!!!

I waddled into the run at 8:57am according to my sometimes-accurate heartrate monitor. It is at least accurate enough to measure time between mile markers, so when I hit the mile 1 sign at 9:04am I was pretty amped. I was feeling strong, but even that early in the morning the sun was already scorching, and in the shadeless the spots through Central Park it was almost unbearable. I think it’s the hottest I’ve ever been in a race. Add to that the Park’s merciless hills and the run was more than a little torturous.

But it was a great place to run with lots of spectators and people just out for their regular weekend runs shouting nonstop encouragement. The race volunteers and coordinators also did a great job making sure there was sufficient water and nutrition on the course. A few volunteers even found hoses and sprinklers and redirected them at the runners for several moments of refreshing repreive along the route. (At one  point I did wonder if that water was being piped straight from my dirty friend the Hudson…)

Diana pointed out that a major mental challenge of running through Central Park was knowing exactly where the hills were coming. That was so true, the whole first 5k I was thinking about the mile long hill at the park’s north end. That bad boy hit my heart rate and turnover hard, and guarenteed me a positive split for the run. I usually build speed as I go and split negatively, but that was certainly not the case this time around. I averaged 7:40 the first half and 7:55 the second. It would have been great to drop the speed to around 7:30 for the last three miles but considering the equatorial moment NYC was having, I’m pretty damn happy with my run performance.

After finishing (with 2:54 total time), I stripped down to my sports bra and put ice cubes in strategic places to try to cool down. At some point after I finished, organizers chopped the run to 1.2 miles because of the heat. (I told you they were all about safety!)

Once we’d had our fill of ice water and mango popsicles, Diana and I took advantage of the free pedi-cabs back to transition. Her husband (who had bravely made the danger-filled trip from Connecticut to midtown) became my hero when he took most of our gear in a car-cab to the hotel so we could quickly coast back on our bikes unencumbered. (Thankfully it was mostly downhill.) My bike confidence is definitely improved: a month or so ago I would never have biked through NYC traffic!

At the hotel we showered and packed and parted ways for brunch. Hers was boozy because of how Connecticut is really close to NYC, mine was caffeine-y because of that whole driving home to DC thing. I got to eat pork buns, chicken, waffles, grits, and shrimps, (not even kidding) and see some besties at Ma Peche before heading back to the Deece.

The drive home was ok. It was about five and a half hours, which is not terrible for that trip. At one point an arm of my bike rack came loose and Koopa started rocking back and forth absolutely scaring the shit out of me. This of course happened at a point where several highways merged and there was absolutely nowhere to pull off or even over. Much to the chagrin of many angry Maryland and Delaware weekenders, I slowed way down and yelled fuckfuckfuckfuck for about ten miles until I could get to the Maryland welcome center and readjust things. The remaining two hours home I drove in a cold sweat with my eyes splitting time between the road in front of me and the rearview. I think I may be investing in a new bike rack before Augusta 70.3…

Next up on the race calendar is Nation’s (Olympic) Tri September 13th. It will hopefully be cooler and is not nearly as hilly, so hopefully I’ll post faster times for everything (including transitions, excluding the swim [assuming there is a swim]). Already thinking about entering the NYC Tri lottery for 2016!

Two months late. So embarrassing, I know. But, wedding. So there.

You would think my Kinetic Spring race report would be short because, well, I didn’t do it. But you’d be wrong! So without further ado, here is an excessively long and late post about a triathlon I did not do.

I bailed three days before the race. And you know what? It felt great. The decision to do so was fraught, and pitted my self-imposed cycle (cycle!) of guilt against my desire to walk down the aisle unassisted by crutches or airboots in my sexy blue Manolos.

Since Nation’s (olympic tri) in early September, I had been on my bike a grand total of no times. That’s not to say I was behind on my cycling fitness. To the contrary, thanks to the impending wedding and dual pressures of vanity and attendant financial broke-ness, I was teaching up to ten classes a week of mostly spin. And throughout the very snowy (by DC standards) 2014/15 winter, I made time to deafen my fiancé, dog, and neighbors with rides on my trainer.

The problem was, is, and continues to be my fear and failure to build up my handling skills on my actual tri bike. (OK and swimming. The problem will probably always be swimming. [Wait, should I just be a runner?])

Without making excuses (I swear) the precipitation of this winter meant riding outside was not going to happen. It didn’t stop snowing and icing (yielding salty [read: bad-for-your-bike] roads) until March. And by March wedding obligations (my own and to others) took over the calendar. I wrote this original piece (that I’m just now publishing) from a plane after a weekend divided between a baby shower and meeting with my caterer and (one of my) planner(s) the weekend after Kinetic. The weekend before the race was my (out-of-town) bachelorette. The weekend before that, my shower/Scott’s bachelor party. The weekend before that, a friend’s out of town wedding. The weekend before that, the Cherry Blossom 10 (9.5) Miler. The weekend before that, a friend’s out of town wedding (in which Scott was a groomsman). And so on. And getting out on the road on a weekday is just not a possibility with my real world job and teaching schedule.

So as Kinetic approached and my time slipped away, I became anxious and unhappy about the race. And racing is way too expensive and time-consuming to be something that causes unhappiness. And I’m trying to learn from my crash and other injuries to not force things when the time is not right. It’s not worth the risk. So the Thursday before the Sunday race, I pushed past my guilt and decided I would watch from the sidelines.

That sidelines thing was at a minimum required. I’d volunteered to be the DC Tri Club race lead for the sprint, and I’d convinced Chris [see Rock N Roll USA Half Race Report for more on Chris] to do his first tri. I had to show up.

So on Sunday, May 10 at 5am, my race crush, and elite triathlete (omg she’s so fast and so cool,) Ellen and I (and Birkin!) loaded up Yoshi and made the around two hour trek to Lake Anna, VA from DC.

The night before I had indulged in a pre-race carb-load with Chris and speed demon, Mike (the fireman/EMT with whom I was riding when I crashed) despite the fact that the following day, I would be doing no strenuous activity requiring such a meal. Then I purchased lots of good post-race nutrition (tons of water, chocolate milk, pretzels, bananas, and more) for my DC Tri Clubbers. Once at the race, Ellen and I took several trips to unload all this nutrition, while the people who didn’t bail on the race wiggled into their wetsuits and engaged in pre-race, nervous rituals.

I was soooo happy not to be racing at that point. Whether novice or elite, pre-swim triathletes radiate a palpable nervous energy. I on the other hand was able to just focus on how excited I was for Chris to be taking on his first tri. He and Mike are friends of Scott, and I’ve gotten close to them through our mutual love for tris and road races. They’ve been really fun and supportive and welcoming as hell since I’ve known them, so I was pumped that Chris had (succumbed to our berating and) signed up.

And I was pumped that he’d gotten such a perfect day for it. It was a little warmer than most would have liked, but not too bad, and the water was (what I consider) a perfect 74 degrees. (Warm enough to make many question and ditch their wetsuits.)

Kinetic is a beach start, Chris went out with the novices in the second to last wave while Mike, and another friend, Ben, went in an early wave as 30-34 males. I find beach starts to be the least scary way to enter the swim leg, but Chris still had the classic first time tri experience of hitting the water and immediately regretting that he had ever signed up. He stuck it out of course, and from what I could see the waves were well spaced and the lake is just a beautiful place to swim.

As Chris ran up the chute to transition, Ellen, Birkin, and I ran up to a point a couple hundred meters into the bike. The bike and run legs at Kinetic start up a pretty legit hill. It can be an intimidating way to start, but the good news is you really do get the hardest part over with early on, when your legs are as fresh as they’re likely to be.

After Chris cranked past us we stayed put. It’s a big loop course, so we had a good view of folks both heading out and returning. Everything was going smoothly until cyclists started coming back in.  The race takes place in a state park, and the transition and finish line area are all conveniently located next to a big parking lot. And obviously the bike course takes place on roads, roads that are also used by cars. Before the race starts, organizers close the mile or so of this car road that leads into the parking lot as this is where the cyclists begin and end their rides.

And yet, no fewer than three idiot (car) drivers managed to come hauling down this supposedly closed stretch of asphalt. And as they did so, each one also managed to nearly take out cyclists, then stop abruptly so that racers had to also slam on their brakes and try to get around the uninvited vehicles.

Spectators and volunteers (myself obviously and strongly included) screamed at the cars to get out of the way and watch out. A couple of the drivers became irate with us, some tried to turn down the run course and take out racers on foot, one pulled sort of to the side and tried to abandon her car. Basically, it was a disaster. I don’t know how the race “organizers” let it happen (and repeatedly) but they are lucky as hell no one was actually struck. A few cyclists definitely lost time (or I guess added it) leaving me wondering if any of them missed PR-ing or podium-ing because of the (actual) traffic jam.

I’m pretty sure this wasn’t an issue last year. (At least I didn’t see anything like it last year, and clearly my experience represents the universally-agreed-upon truth of how things transpired.) Parenthetical joking aside, this was an epic fuck up and I will be considering it when I decide whether to ever register for this race again.

The rest of the day was not nearly so eventful. Though I did (get to) yell at a preteen who, when I wasn’t looking and without asking, jumped on an unsuspecting, slumbering Birkin. He’s a giant-but-shy shelter dog, and doesn’t even like ear scratches from strangers, so when I turned around to find a child (of advanced enough age she should have known better [as should her parents who were standing right there]) draped across my timid and panting and clearly-terrified pup, I let loose.

But really other than that the rest of the day at Lake Anna went well. Chris did great and was insta-hooked. (He’s training for Nations now and has become obsessed with [solidcore] too! I wonder how that happened…)

The only time I regretted not racing was when I saw the medals. And also when Chris and Mike got pizza. But, I did still get my sweet swag socks, and more importantly I got to walk down the aisle 3 weeks later unscathed in my strappy stilettoes.