Ironman Chattanooga (or IM Choo tri-colloquially) is Sept. 25th. Conventional wisdom dictates scheduling a half iron distance race six to eight weeks before a full iron, which led me to the Rev3 Poconos Half on Aug. 7th. (Ok, the most conventional of conventional wisdom probably advises never signing up for 140.6 [144.6 at IM Choo] expensive miles of multisport torture. [What ever happened to Sundays spent sleeping in and reading the paper?])
I’d been toying with either Rev3 Poconos or a half outside Asheville Aug. 6th. The latter was a lot further away from DC and would have meant a much pricier, dog-free, car-heavy weekend, but I have wanted to check out Asheville for a while. I was struggling to decide between the two when a couple things happened: my car suddenly needed thousands of dollars of work done, making money a bigger issue, and I volunteered at the Rev3 Williamsburg half and olympic, where I got to see how fantastic their team is and races are. Plus volunteering there got me a discount on a future Rev3 race so in the end the decision was pretty easy.
Making things even better, I found a hotel 10 minutes from the race that was dog-friendly, so not only could husband/sherpa, Scott come, but also dire wolf/cheer-pup Birkin as well! We dicked around a little longer than planned Saturday morning and got on the road a little after 11am, getting to the race site at the Shawnee Inn & Golf Resort near East Stroundsberg, PA around 3:45pm. Packet pick-up was a breeze and with the day already winding down things at the expo were pretty quiet. Things were so chill that I felt emboldened to bring my bike, Koopa Troop, in to have the on-site mechanics change out my skewer for me. I felt silly asking but my wheel-dropping incident has me paranoid about my set-up! They were understanding about it and didn’t charge me a thing.
I did a little expo shopping (raiding) and then stuck around for the 4:30 “mandatory” meeting. It was not nearly so mandatory as in NYC where they don’t let you pick up your packet until you have a stamp to show you attended. I’m sure plenty of people skipped in Poconos but I think the meetings are helpful. Organizers impart good tips about the course and any race idiosyncrasies. It was especially helpful for this race where we’d be sharing most of the swim, a lot of the bike and all of the run with folks doing the Olympic distance so we’d have to be on the lookout for half-specific signage. More than that this was a two-transition race which can get confusing. It helped to have the logistics laid out very clearly, including explanations of all the different types of gear bags in our packets!
After the not-mandatory-but-really-I-
After the quick set-up Scott, Birk, and I drove the easy few miles to the Budget Inn and Suites in East Stroudsburg. I was so happy they were dog-friendly; it makes a huge difference to be able to include Birkin in the race weekend. He has a blast being outside all day, we don’t have to put him through the stress of being without us overnight, and I am happy that Scott has his best friend for adorable, face-kissin’ company while I’m out on course for hours on end.
The Budget Inn was obviously not high-end but it was actually nicer than I expected. Our room was very clean and well air-conditioned. And best of all there was a restaurant onsite that made pizza! Easy pre-race carbing without having to go anywhere.
By that I mean, I didn’t go anywhere. After eating Scott however was very kind and went to a Walmart a few minutes away to get bagels and bananas for breakfast. (I only patronize Walmart when out of town for races and there are no other options. Otherwise this bleeding heart tries to limit her shopping to places that allow employees to unionize and take lunch breaks!)
While Scott bought things I should have brought from home I prepped for the morning. Going through my tattoos and bags I was blown away to find a personalized note wishing me well not only the next day but in Chattanooga – one of many ways Rev3 goes out of its way to welcome people more than any other race organization! I also got sucked into a really juicy Law & Order SVU which kept me up too late. At 10pm I finally tucked in for the night.
The alarm went off at 4:30am and I cursed Detectives Benson and Stabler for their late-night magnetism. (I’m just kidding, Olivia! I didn’t mean it!) We were out the door around 5:10 and at T2 a few minutes later. While Scott circled around I quickly set up my running shoes, race belt and nutrition, and hat for a run that seemed a long way off. I was done quickly making me feel like I was forgetting something. I ran through the transition in my head a few times and when I was around 45% positive that I wasn’t forgetting anything I went and found Scott.
He drove me over to T1 where I set up my bike shoes and water bottles. Organizers announced that the water temperature was 76.8 degrees, aka wet suit legal but even warmer than NYC. The air was a lot cooler than New York though and it seemed like everyone was suiting up. I hated going against the crowd – especially without Bunks there to bolster the decision. I knew I would be really hot in my (full-sleeved) wetsuit in water that warm but watching everyone walk out of T1 with their suits made me feel like they knew something I didn’t. Scott supported the decision to swim in my kit since I’d been comfortable that way in cooler water so I finally decided to heed my own advice and past performance and ditch the neoprene.
With that decision reluctantly made and both transition areas ready to go I had about twenty minutes to just hang with my two and four-legged dudes. Leading up to this weekend I had been uncharacteristically blasé and non-basket case-y. Coach Josh said it was awesome, but I was a little disturbed by my nonchalance. Approaching that day as just IM Choo training had made me so chill I’d gotten us on the road late the day before, I’d stayed up too late, and I was still only kind of sure that both transition areas were stocked with what I’d need. The silver (stomach) lining was that my stomach had behaved itself as my brain managed to hide the fact that there was a (pretty long) race coming up.
But as Scott and Birkin and I stood outside between T1 and the swim start my stomach looked around and said, ‘oh holy shit! Are we at a race?! Nobody told me! We only have like twenty minutes to PANIC NOW!’ Three line-free porta visits later my belly seemed satisfied with the last-minute havoc it had wreaked and it was about time to get in the water.
I kissed my dudes goodbye and shuffled down the boatlaunch ramp into the river for the in-water start. It was chilly for a minute and I wondered if I’d made the right decision, but then the gun went off for women 39 and under and there was no time to dwell. As the sweleton (seriously we’re making this happen) took off I quickly found myself dead last in the wave. Swimming is my well-documented weakness but not THAT weak! I usually still manage top third or at worst half! I freaked out and got really discouraged – my head went places that it shouldn’t be going until at least a couple hours into a race. (Ironman – half and full – is a lot of time to be left alone with your thoughts.) Then I realized that everyone else had the benefit of an all-over-body neoprene floatie. Of course they were outmoving me. Again I kicked myself (no one else around me to kick me) for skipping the wetsuit but my ego rebounded from the initial shock of being left behind.
Apparently in addition to the equipment handycap, a lot of women in my wave had gone out too hot, so over the first long (against the current) stretch I picked off a couple which assuaged my ego further. And speaking of “too hot” (how smooth was that? *eyebrow wiggle*) within a few minutes I found peace with my decision to swim in just my tri-kit. The water was really warm and I imagined how uncomfortably hot I would have felt in my suit. I think for IM Choo I might rent a sleeveless suit to have that option if the water is warm. I’m going to want the benefit of the added speed, but my full-sleeve suit is toasty.
A little before the halfway point the swim course hooked a hard right across/with the current and then right again to swim home fully with the current. I heeded the “mandatory” pre-race meeting advice of finding a center lane to avoid the river grass in the shallower water by the shore. (Plus I learned at NYC this year to always take a path as close to the middle to ride the current in a river swim.)
The water was so clear I could see the bottom as I swam. I’d never experienced that in a race and it was fantastic. More fantastic? I had a serious breakthrough during the swim. No, it was not a speed-related breakthrough – my wetsuit-free time was pretty embarrassing. It was bigger than that.
I peed! WHILE swimming!
I’ve had a mental/maybe physical bloc about peeing in action and keep exiting the water with a full bladder. As I swam with the current I slowed down a bit and concentrated. It took a all my will but finally, it happened! (Gawd this is way too much information, isn’t it?) Whatever, I was so happy. Before exiting I even peed a little more! (When it rains it pours! [I’m referring to both my urinary breakthrough and how needlessly intimate this blog is getting.]) It added even more time to my already-slow swim, but when I ran up the ramp to T1 it was worth it because I didn’t need a porta-break!
The run to T1 was long – though not as ridiculous as in NYC. And Scott and Birkin were there waiting and ran next to me the whole way. The crowd and organizers loved it and were cracking up at my giant, happy, tongue-out dire wolf.
I’m not sure where the sensors all were for transition but based on where I think they were Garmin says it was 3:36 from out of the water onto the bike. I’m pretty happy with that considering the long run and that we had to pack up everything from T1 into a bag that would be picked up and trucked to T2/the finish.
Heading out onto the bike course I knew we started up hill but I wasn’t too nervous because Conman, I mean COACH, Josh had said it wasn’t too hilly. Maybe I should be flattered he thinks I’m a better biker than I am but the first ten or so miles were absolutely brutal. And probably because of my too laid back approach to this race day as a training day, I felt really low energy. Usually I’m all nerves and adrenaline heading out on the bike but I was just lethargic and moving much more slowly than normal – even given the uphill terrain.
And it was uphill and demanding – despite my best efforts to act like it was blah, whatever. In the glow of Josh’s calming lies and my own chillaxing, I wasn’t expecting the course to be as hard as it was so I wasn’t working to pick up maximum speed on the couple downhill bits to get up the many uphill ones.
Maybe four miles in I was in a pack of four or five other athletes when we rounded a corner and came face to face with a total wall of a “hill.” I heard several expletives escape the mouths around me. At least one person dismounted right there and started walking. I tried to pick up speed in the remaining space before the uphill would begin but it was pretty much a lost cause at that point.
I headed uphill and started shifting down furiously. I was able to pass a few people – some on bikes, some walking bikes – and almost had a collision with a woman who wasn’t going to make it and had decided to clip out in the middle of the road halfway up, slowing my already painful climb further.
I got about 85% up and was getting to that point where you have so little forward momentum and no remaining small rings and so the only place to go is down. There was a small flatter ledge so I popped off the bike and ran it the final bit to the top. So embarrassing but less so than if I’d gone down and caused a pile-up. I need to learn to read an elevation chart because I could have summited in my pedals rather than on my feet if I’d known to accelerate into that turn before the hill.
I clipped back in at the top and immediately we were flying down the other side. I’m still too nervous a rider to enjoy breakneck speed descents and I totally ride the brake these days when it’s really long or steep. Here the road was also pretty rough and pocked so I was especially nervous. I didn’t let myself pump the brake too much though, unsure what mountains awaited. Fortunately, while there were a few more miles of tough climbing, nothing so drastic as that wall.
Eventually we were able to get off that road and onto a nice smooth stretch of highway. The middle thirty some miles were wonderful – just really pleasant riding. The road was closed to traffic, it was well-kempt in most places, and the rolling hills were challenging enough to be interesting, but never painful. The race was also far less crowded than NYC. I thought it was perfectly populated: it wasn’t lonely but I never felt my pace confined by too many people.
We rode an out and back past the aid station at around miles 15 and 31. I stopped at the second to refill my aero bottle which took maybe a minute, then back on the road. Somewhere in the mid-40s we had another short out and back where we were sharing the road with the olympic course. It started to get hilly again and I knew I was going to have to climb up the ass side of that wall from earlier soon. When I did hit with about eight miles to go I was at least more prepared – and it wasn’t as bad from the back.
The descent was worse though.
I clutched my brake the whole way down. I knew I could get up the remaining hills without conserving all the speed and it was so long and steep and potholed that there was no way I was going down full-steam. Conferring with braver riders later everyone I talked to said they had done the same – mostly because the road was too rough to trust at that speed.
With three miles to go we past T1 and headed over some shorter-but-steeper rollers. The road for those last miles was in the worst condition of the day. Potholes and unavoidable cracks the whole way back in. We also shared the final mile with the run course, which was a little disheartening. I knew I wasn’t putting up very competitive numbers and it sucked seeing a lot of people out running while I was still on the bike.
Over the course of the ride I drank a bottle of Hammer Heed, a bottle of water, and had two gus. I should have brought one more gu or maybe some shot bloks as I got a little hungry in the final stretch and was out of calories. I got off the bike with tired climby legs pretty whooped from my ride.
Looking back I acknowledge that this race was named for the mountain range in which it took place, so the fact that less than half of it was brutally hilly is actually pretty kind of the course designer. I’ll try to be more cognizant of obvious hints like, this race is named after mountains when evaluating the likely terrain and elevation of a course from now on.
Once again guestimating the timing mats my Garmin logged a 2:07 T2. It was easy to locate my rack as organizers had designed T2 to exactly mirror T1 which was great. The floor racks also had our names on them which I’d never seen before and was so impressed by. I easily found my spot, changed, and was out.
As I exited T2 I checked out my overall time: 4:14. My goal had been to go sub-6, and still not in peak run-shape I had hoped to average somewhere in the low 8s for my run. Seeing how much time I’d eaten up with my slow swim and my walk/ride bike leg I realized my run was going to have to be much faster than I’d planned it. But still I thought, I can turn in a 1:45 half marathon without too much trouble – I just had to average an 8 minute mile. Totally doable.
And here again my inability to read an elevation chart and naiveté about mountain racing bit me hard in the glutes.
The first mile was pretty relaxed. I was getting my post-bike legs back so I let myself run it in the low 8s. There was a little climbing too which slowed me but I thought, that’s fine, I can make up for that. In the end that 8:24 for mile 1 ended up being my fourth fastest of the day.
The run course was BRUTAL. For the half it was two 6-mile out and backs, most of which was shared with the olympic. The first mile and a half was on the road over those same punchy rollers that had concluded the bike leg. Then we turned right onto a gravel path and ran three miles through the park. It was beautiful, and a lot of it was shaded which was a gift, but the gravel slowed everyone down, consciously and unconsciously. With my osteopenia, any not-road or track substrate makes me nervous to roll an ankle so I backed off a little. I was starting to realize I wouldn’t crack six hours.
If I hadn’t been sure about missing my sub-6 as soon as we hit the gravel, the epic hill at mile two and a half definitely hammered it home. There’d been a lot of climbing already, but suddenly I was staring down the steepest descent I’d ever seen in a race. I pulled my glasses off so I could see the contours of the path better, and slowed almost to a walk. This was not the kind of hill where you try to make up time – it was the hill where you prayed not to break an ankle or tear something. And as an added mind-fuck to the physical challenge, given that this was an out-and-back there were people walking up it and I knew that hell loomed soon…and twice.
I got to the bottom with my bones in tact – at least as in tact as mine ever are – and tried to pick up the pace again. About half a mile later there was a much-needed aid station next to the olympic turn around. I gulped down several cups of water and gatorade – I was starting to feel really dehydrated and calorie-depleted – and kept going. The half turn-around was still a quarter mile away. A quarter mile straight uphill to be more exact.
We crossed a little bridge and immediately there was a hill almost as steep and long as the one I felt like I had just walk-jogged down. (I walked in the bike and run courses, huh?) I managed to run up and passed some walkers on the way. It hurt and it was ugly but I made it. At the top I just turned right around and went back down. It wasn’t quite as bad as going down that first cliff, but still too steep and uncertain in the footing to make up any real speed. I crossed the bridge and passed back through that aid station grabbing more water and gatorade and began to steel myself for the climb I knew was coming.
And it sucked. I managed to technically “run” the whole way but it was so steep it was almost physically impossible to run it. I knew at the top there’d be a flatish mile where I could recompose myself and just focused on that. Once at the top I focused on breathing to bring my heart rate back down some as I ran back out to the paved portion.
Speaking of heart rate – my monitor didn’t work at all during the run. It was so frustrating. Although I’m sure I was in the 180s almost the entire time so maybe it’s better I didn’t know. What the strap around my chest did succeed in doing was to chafe me raw in the center of my bottom ribs. I think it was from dumping ice and cups of water on myself at each aid station. I’m not really sure what to do about it when I have to go twice this distance and will really want those metrics in Chattanooga.
That’s September Liz’ problem though. Back on the run course I finished loop one in an uninspiring 57 minutes. As I headed to the turn around I saw Birkin and Scott. Scott hadn’t realized it was a two loop situation so he was shocked to see me and at first must have thought I was absolutely destroying the run. I told him I was hurting pretty bad. He said, ‘but you’re almost there!’ I broke the news that in fact I was not almost there and had to do that dreadful loop again. He and Birk ran the turn around with me and as far as they could back out. At least I was more than halfway through it when they bid me adieu again.
And at least the run course was a little short, so each mile marker hit a minute or so before my garmin dinged. That bit of relief really helped get me through the second half. I ran this loop pretty identically to the first. Getting gatorade and some more calories in I actually felt physically a little better, though my pace doesn’t really show it. At the end of the first loop I began getting nervous that I wouldn’t even go sub-two in the run, but with some more fuel I was able to pull myself back together so that I knew I would at least hit that mark.
While the gatorade did revive me, so many liquid calories started to wear on me and gurgle unpleasantly in parts of the second loop. I made another note to myself to up my solid calories on the bike and on the run. I again walk-jogged the big hills. Most people just walked them so I was proud to keep the run facade going there, and as I passed walkers they shouted encouragement to keep running. (By walkers I do not mean zombies to be clear, just fellow athletes who were walking and while in pain, not technically undead.) I love that about triathletes – every race the bike and run bits are peppered by words of support from total strangers. This run was so challenging that people were high fiving all over on the out and backs (and joking that this was swim-bike-hike instead of run.) It’s incredible how that human kindness and care can overwhelm the physical pain of the moment.
Once I was off the gravel and back on the pavement with two miles to go I tried to pick it up a little. Mile 12 was one of my fastest for the day and I felt like I could hold it to the end. With less than half a mile to go I saw Birkin and Scott again. They jumped in the course with me. Birkin was so happy and adorable galloping next to me with his tongue hanging out, and athletes and spectators cheered for him. I on the other hand was in agony. Scott encouraged me on and ran next to me, but I didn’t have the energy to respond. He could tell I was just about out of gas and stayed by my side despite my silent treatment. I was glad he understood and stayed with me.
At the finishing chute he and Birkin ducked to the side not realizing they were allowed to run up it with me. I again had nothing left to spit out that explanation so I just charged ahead knocking out my only mile in the 7s for the day.
I finished the run in 1:54:04 (slight negative split) and 6:07:47 overall. Eight minutes slower than my goal. It was just a training day though and I hadn’t approached it as anything more than that, so it was hard to feel too disappointed.
At the finish line a volunteer draped a cold, wet towel over my shoulders and back which felt AMAZING. It was a little after 1pm and I had finished feeling feverishly hot so that towel was a life-saver. It was also a large, legit towel and not just a dinky hand-cloth which made a huge difference in bringing my body temp down.
I paced a little as Birkin and Scott caught up to me to encourage the lactic build-up to flush out of my legs. While I paced the finish area Birkin got his own medal from some amazing volunteers! (I know they were good people because my usually anxious, shy pup warmed up quickly and started loving on them.)
There were a few ice baths which I’d never tried, but I’d also rarely been that overheated. I grabbed a seat on the rim of one and daintily dropped one leg at a time in. I found it really hurt my toesies (maybe from my Raynaud’s syndrome) but that it felt especially good on my upper legs. My glutes were absolutely thrashed from all the climbing so I (less-daintily) dunked my ass and thighs in while keeping my feet resting on the trough rim. It was not a lady-like position but it felt life-affirming.
After a few minutes (as much as I could stand) I re-soaked my towel in the ice water and then waddled my frosty wet self to the Normatec tent for some compression recovery. Ten minutes in the squeeze squeeze sleeves revived me to the point where I could walk like a regular human, so it was time to indulge in some calories.
Rev3 did a great job of providing athletes with a serious spread (meat and veggie lasagna, chicken, veggies, fresh fruits, breadsticks!) and a really good IPA from a local brewery. (I forget the name! So sorry – it was so much better than the mainstream light beer available at most races!)
Scott, Birk, and I hung out for an hour, my dudes taking advantage of the beautiful park setting, before gathering my things and heading home. Organizers did an incredible job getting everyone’s things from T1 and had hung up our numbered gear bags on hooks next to T2. Scott easily found my stuff while I grabbed Koopa Troop. There was plenty of parking at T2* and so we were back on the road to DC in no time.
*Organizers also worked hard to make the day smooth for spectators. Scott had driven me to the race start/T1 and then seen me off on the bike. Then he had to drive back to T2 to wait, but he had plenty of time to do so before they closed the road to cars. What the brilliant planners did to accommodate sherpas/spectators was to make the three miles between T1 and T2/the finish one way until I believe 8:30am so that everyone could wish their athletes well at the start line and welcome them at the finish line. I am so impressed with how smoothly Rev3 managed to direct a two-transition race.
So in conclusion, Rev3 is a fabulous race organization and I am so coming back for more with them next season. Scott and I also loved the Poconos and kept remarking on how nice it would be to do a long weekend there so maybe next year we’ll make a real vacation out of it!
