So, this was a great race in many ways: perfect weather, pretty landscape, good people, solid results (10/40 for AG). But I went deeper into the pain cave than I bargained for. On the one hand, my mental distraction tools didn’t work; on the other hand, I left nothing on the course. (Other than a water bottle.)
The drive up to Springfield, Mass should only have taken 2 hours, but with an accident and a downpour slowing traffic, took 3 ½ hours. So I registered at the MassMutual Convention Center by 3:30 — shortly before registration closed at 4:00. By that time, they had run out of computer chips (“we’ll leave it on your bicycle, where you rack it”) and by the time I got to the leaky, underground parking lot that served as the Transition area, they had run out of bike racks… So they had us rack in the section reserved for the Pros! (Apparently, all of the Pros were attending Eagleman 70.3 held on the same day.)
The AirBnB proved to be some 5 minutes away, and this “classic, 19th Century mansion” proved to have a beautiful empty ballroom, lovely ground floor living rooms, and 3 floors of rundown, tiny kitchens and bedrooms without curtains.
But by coincidence, another TriEndeavors teammate, Liam McNichols, was staying there as well, with his sister and girlfriend!
Good thing I was in a mansion full of triathletes, because after getting up at 3:15 (to eat, pack up, park and get to transition at 4:45 in order to set up, wait for the toilets and then walk the mile to swim start), Liam tells me what the Ironman App reports: the swim is cancelled! Apparently, the runoff from that downpour the day before contaminated the Connecticut River. So, the race wouldn’t begin until 6:40, with a “time trial” bike leg. (That is, the same as every race: your timing chip triggers your starting time.)
To accommodate 1,161 racers, they said we’d start in bib order — but even though my bib was no. 1141, I was racked with Pros 1-10, so I started with the first racers! Wasn’t sure if I needed my arm warmers, about to begin and took them off, and a race official grabbed them from me and stuffed them into my back pockets…
BAM, we are off and I immediately pull to the right side so faster riders can pass me. My plan (via Coach Steve) is to ride at RPE (relative perceived exertion) of 4-5 the first 10 miles, RPE 6-7 for Miles 10 to 40 or 45, RPE 7-8 for Miles 45 to 56. The goal is not to get cooked on the ride and to avoid blowing up on the run. So I work hard to not work too hard.
It’s rolling hills, low 60’s temp and cloudy and I’m staying in control, but definitely feeling the FOMO as dozens then hundreds of people burn past me. At 1 hour, bursitis in my left hip flares up and my power meter shows I drop to 143 watts; I stay as aero as possible, shifting positions as best I can, standing up on the hills just to relieve the pain but that also cranks up my heart rate… somehow I muscle through it, and the bursitis doesn’t flare up again until Hour 2.
My age apparently is pretty apparent: I get a “Nice job, Sir!” from a spectator, and a white-haired, unshaven, heavy guy on a lawn next to his rusting pickup truck says, “There’s another old-timer.” I leapfrog with a smiling guy with salt n’ pepper beard and a kerchief under his helmet (Me: “You’re having too much fun!” Him: “Absolutely!” Me: “What’s your age group?” Him: “I’m 41.” Me: “I could be your father!” Him: “It would be an honor!” And then he’s gone, baby, gone…)
I made the rookie mistake of “trying something new on race day”: two nights before, I coated my sunglass/ goggles with a different anti-fogging product, but on race day, they are so fogged up that I take them off and stuff them into the top of my shirt (checking now and then to make sure they didn’t slip out, like my swim goggles during last year’s SOS race!). Sure enough, my eyes are tearing behind my glasses the rest of the ride, but the sun only peaks out now and then, so I get by without sunglasses. Inspired by teammate Liam (who said one of his goals was to “crush it on the nutrition”) I keep up with my nutrition plan, shoveling down all the carbs I can while riding.
Some glorious downhills (I later learn that I maxed out at 43 mph) and I try to crank it up starting at Mile 40 or 45; feeling strong but my wattage doesn’t really increase. Less than a mile from the end, my spare water bottle falls off, and I should stop and get it, but I don’t. Finish the bike in 2:54:23, averaging 19 mph on a hilly course; normalized power of 178 watts; average heart rate of 122, peaking at 141. And 19/40 for age group… Go through Transition, feeling enough energy to at least start the run… but I’m dreading the upcoming effort of a half marathon.
The run is beautiful, sunny, mostly shaded through a “lollipop” course (2 miles out along the handle, two 4.5-mile loops around a park, 2 miles back down the handle) and from the very beginning it’s hard. My first mile, and my heart rate is already at 143 bpm (I’ll be in the 150s if I’m not careful! That’s not sustainable!); when it climbs to 148 bpm, I walk up the hill going into the park (along with a tall woman who looks like an athlete who knows what she’s doing). I get into a groove after the downhill of the first loop (a big man with small children yells, “Look at that smile!”), but I agree with the short woman I’m leapfrogging, “I can’t wait until we can take the sign that says “to Finish” (instead of “Second Loop”). Twice I get that mixed compliment, “Nice work, Sir!” (Me: “Please don’t call me ‘Sir’!”). I realize my Garmin is entirely inaccurate —it takes a quarter mile after we pass the mile markers for the watch to ding that I’ve finished a mile — which means that I should NOT care about technology.
But my mental gymnastics of looking to the horizon and pushing away negative thoughts isn’t working, I’m trying to run “lighter ” and stop slapping my feet, my knee hurts going downhill on the second loop (must be IT band, I don’t have knee issues, do I?) and pick up the pace, just kick up the cadence just a little at Mile 8, it’s not feeling stronger, I want to pick it up again at Mile 10 but I can’t, a glorious downhill coming out of the park hitting 7:30 minute/mile for a moment, and other people are burning past me but I just don’t give a damn anymore I’m just trying to finish I can’t get any faster and here’s the finish line and they announce my name and my age and I’m DONE.
And even when I bump into Logan Underkofler, another TriEndeavor teammate, I can’t stop walking, I’m afraid I’ll throw up, and I can’t sit, I’m on the verge of cramping, but salty potato chips and chocolate milk seem doable, slowly, and 20 minutes later my fingers start tingling as if they’d fallen asleep, and I’m left wondering: how far into the pain cave did I go? I’m wiped out, I don’t know if I ever want to race again, and Coach Steve tells me, “sounds like you did a good job!”
Bottom line: finished the 13.1 miles in 1:55:14 (8:35 minute/mile!), and 10/40 AG (picked up 9 slots from the bike!), 477/1,083 OA. It wasn’t fun, and I wish for that much effort that I had faster results, but I have the satisfaction that I gave it everything I had.
I even hang out all afternoon to see if other age groupers will turn down the chance to go to the 70.3 world championship, and roll down to my slot, but no, I’m not going to Spain in November.