Lost in TranslationTransition
Sunday morning, 5am. Wake up, drink coffee (1 cup is all I need these days), eat toast. Put on race kit, pack wetsuit and gear. Grab bike.
We stayed at my old friend Kris’s sister’s place, which is located exactly at the turn around for the run course, a mere 1.5miles from the race venue. How convenient.
Added air to my tires. One tire has an 80mm valve stem, the other has a 60mm with an adaptor.
Air the rear. Good to go.
Air the front. In the back of my mind think something like “man wouldn’t it suck if I ripped off the valve stem or something.”
Proceed to remove the pump head from the tire and FFFSSSSSTTT! the valve stem comes off with it.
It’s 6:10am. Transition closes at like 6:30. I had not been into transition yet.
I just ripped my valve stem off of my Zipp 404s, which are mounted with Michelin Pro2Race tires -the most difficult combination of tire/rim to mount in the history of mounting clinchers. It took me nearly 20minutes to get the brand new tires on the rims when I got them last week.
I.Do.Not.Need.This.Right.Now.
Panic set in - I didn’t even have my seat bag. I had one spare tube in my race bag. Barking orders at Andy to give me his tire levers, I proceeded to do the fastest flat change in the history of my cycling career. Within 5 minutes I had the thing changed and pumped back up.
Adrenaline is an amazing thing. You know how you read stories about people exhibiting feats of superhuman strength and lifting heavy objects like a car off of their two year old child? (I think it’s specific to your own offspring, because quite frankly, if a car or something else heavy fell on someone else’s two year old, I would probably stand idly by and wonder if anyone was going to do anything about it while I continued sipping my iced tea. But I am not a big fan of children).
So my adrenaline enabled me to rip that Pro2Race from the 404 rim and do a perfect flat change inside 5minutes. I made it to the race with time to spare, got body marked, set up my bike in transition (silently hoping that I seated the tube and bead correctly and would not flat as soon as I started rolling).
Wetsuit on, cap, goggles, ear plugs (I swim with ear plugs because I get chronic ear infections and when water goes in my ears it’s downright painful).
Wait with the rest of my wave - #6, red caps - to enter the water.
And we’re off.
I love swimming at Ellacoya. The water is crystal clear. The course is extremely shallow, great visibility, definitely the easiest swim course I have ever done. For the first time, I find myself actually racing the swim, sighting often enough to track my competitors and actually elevating my heart rate enough so that I was going hard. I stayed in contact with some feet most of the way and made it to shore in 10:15. Better than I could have wanted. I am sure there are hoards of swimmers out there chuckling at how slow my swim is, but remember - I learned to swim less than a year ago, and I am not exactly built for swimming. To put in perspective, if I was on the US Olympic gymnastics team, I would be the second shortest. Watch gymnastics, then go watch swimming, and realize that the only thing the US gymnastics team has in common with the US swimming team is that they are nearly ALL taller than me. (I’m not making excuses, but I figure that if elite swimmers are all freakishly tall, being freakishly small must somehow work against me in the water).
Out of the water, along the beach, into the transition area. I stopped to see where I had to run in to get to my rack. There were wetsuit strippers but I didn’t need that, I had my suit down as I exited the water. At that point my refusal to race in prescription eyewear got the best of me. I don’t wear contacts for my nearsightedness, and I only use non Rx Rudy Projects for racing because I am cheap. Well, as I stood there looking around for the best way to run to my bike, I missed the really obvious lane about 10 feet from me that would have taken me directly to my bike and instead ran the long way around to the other side of the racks.
Out of my wetsuit, into socks, vintage Sidi Toscana mtn bike shoes, grab the Rudy Project Syton Comp helmet and Kalyos sunglasses and I am off.
The bike mount at this race is a cluserf&*$ of epic proportions. I will show you videographic proof of that later on, but it’s soooooo frustrating because there is this big really obvious sign that says BIKE MOUNT on both sides of the exit lane, and there are marshalls standing there telling you when you can officially mount the bike. And there is a bright yellow line painted on the ground. And people get to the line, stop completely, then get on their bikes. This is where being a former cyclocross racer is a huge advantage.
Kris was watching from the side lines, he said he saw me come out about 90th for women, stuck in a mob of bikes and bodies, and before he realized it I had run through all of them, jumped on my bike and was outta there.
I love this bike course. It’s just hilly enough that it makes it challenging for most people, but not so hilly that you ever need the little ring. I got my rhythm immediately and started picking people off. I have ridden the course so many times over the years in training that I know every inch of the road, know exactly what gear I need for each gradient. By the time I reached the turn around I was now rarely seeing anyone in my age group. Checking numbers on legs as I passed by, I was now into the 35-40 year olds, taking time out of a group who started 3 minutes ahead of me. I was passing men, and women were rapidly disappearing from the course.
I caught two more women in the last 3 miles of the bike course. My cyclocomputer was stuck in sleep mode so I had no idea of my average speed. Into T2 I did the world’s fastest cross dismount on pavement and hit the ground running at full speed. Rack the bike, helmet off, shoes switched, go.
The run…I have to be honest here. I HATE running in triathlons. Yeah, running is my first love, running is my first sport. I still hate it coming off the bike. I exited T2 with another woman from my wave, and knew I had to stick with her. On the way out I led, through the turn around she passed me, I sat on her. We were flying on the downhill return trip. We passed one guy shuffling along who muttered “Show offs” as we blazed by. Ignoring him, we moved on. She started to pull away, and seeing the number 28 on her calf, I let her go. I was hurting, I still had not done any lactate threshold or VO2 max work this year (literally none, 2008 was the year of base) and running above LT was not within my ability. Hey, she’s not in my age group, I’m not capable of doing anything here other than maybe 10th…
Around the corner to the finishing straight and I try to sprint but vomit is rising in my throat (again, a lack of speed training = inability to go hard). Cross the line 15seconds behind the other girl.
I went as fast as I could, and given my lack of any focused training this year, I was content with my finish.
That is, until they posted results, and I was confused as I saw a rank of 1 next to me name and then a rank of 5.
I was 1st in my age group, 30-34. I was 5th overall female - and the woman who I let go in the closing mile of the run? She ended up 3rd overall.
Fifteen seconds out of 3rd place.
I am extremely satisfied.
Would I have been happier with 3rd? Absolutely. Could I have run any faster to catch 3rd place? Most likely not. I have been running for so many years that I know when I am at my limit. I can’t will myself to run 6minute pace when I haven’t been training for it. My bike split was as fast as I am capable of right now, and for me my swim was my best ever.
Could I have made up 15seconds in transition by not taking an extra lap around my rack?
Probably.
Is there anything I can do about that?
Nope.
The numbers:
Swim: 10:15
Bike: 44:04, second fastest female bike split
Run: 18:16, 4th fastest female run split
Total time: 1:16.16, 5th female
What I learned - it’s time for Rx eyewear and my swim needs more work
Stay tuned for video from the 70.3
