Hi.
It's Laura.
A
very sore Laura today. (It is creepy to refer to yourself in the third person,
I know.)
I
have given up trying to figure out what the weather is going to be on race day.
I used to look starting 10 days out and I found this to be pointless. This year
I never bothered to look until the day before. The Husband and I looked at
several different apps to try to figure out what the weather would bring. Not
one of them seemed to have a clue. In the end, it didn't really matter. The
race happens race or shine. I do believe they would call it off for a hurricane
although none was in the forecast.
Race
weekend truly begins on Friday for me. NYC Tri starts holding the mandatory
athlete briefings at noon on
friday
through sometime in the
afternoon on Saturday.
I do like to make a weekend out of it so I go to the first briefing on Friday
and hit the Expo afterwards. The briefings are where the rules are verbally
stated (they also publish an athlete guide). Such as: “No briefing then no hand
stamp, no hand stamp then no race packet, no race packet then no race, no
exceptions! No crying. No whining. These are pretty clear cut rules and they
are not kidding.
Bike
check-in the day before the race is mandatory. No bikes will be accepted on
race day. No exceptions. No bike, no race. Once inside transition there are
other rules NYC Tri enforces. No markers on your bike and no covers on bikes
either. The team does sweep every aisle and remove markers and covers. The
volunteers inside transition are also supposed to report bike that are
improperly racked. Improperly racking your bike is a justifiable time penalty. I
like that their rules are clear and simple. If you do not follow them, you do
not race. I have raced other races where everyone does whatever they want and
it is chaos. Trying to get 4000 people, with tons of gear, onto the UWS of NYC
is quite a feat and needs discipline.
Race
day plan: up at 3:00am, coffee, breakfast,
leave by 4:00 am. We got close. Up at 3:00am , no problem. Coffee, no problem. Breakfast is
always tough. I changed nutrition plan this year a bit to help with any GI
issues I might experience. Dinner at 3:30 PM the day before and a
light snack just before bed. (At 8:00 PM, while you were out to dinner Saturday night and/or imbibing, The Husband
and I were already in bed.)
Instead
of trying to choke down an egg sandwich, I decided on a fruit smoothie to top
off my calorie stores. I still choked it down. Ugh, nerves. Out the door by 4:10, not bad. We pulled the car out of the garage
into the rain and my heart sank. Rain? Seriously? Cycling in the rain is not my
idea of a good time.
Since
we moved 6 months ago, neither one of really thought about the logistics of
getting to our old hood. We would just cruise down the west side highway (they
close the north bound side for the race not southbound) get off at 79th Street
and park. Except the 79th Street exit is closed because that is part of the
race course. Duh. We keep going and head towards 56th Street. This was a glitch
that I was not expecting and my insides reacted. Suddenly I had to pee so bad I
couldn't speak. I asked The Husband to please pull over so I could go. Of
course now we are in traffic. Yes traffic at 4:30 a.m. With the West Side
Highway closed for the race and it was just after last call in the bars, we
turn onto 57th street to look for an area for me to squat. Meanwhile the clock
is ticking. Yellow transition is open from 4:00am - 5:15 am. If your gear is not in
by then you are S.O.L. We found a nice little dark area, away from the people
hanging on the street. I jumped out of the car, squatted behind a towel and
magically regained my ability to speak.
Because
of the turn we made, we wound up on Amsterdam free of traffic. Phew! We parked
exactly where we planned and walked down to transition. I am happy to report,
the rain stopped. I entered transition with all my stuff with 25 minutes to
spare. I have gotten quite efficient at setting up my area. I do it every week
for my brick workouts. I am always surprised that people actually spend the
entire time that transition is open, setting up their area. Now of course I have
to pee again. I decided not to go in transition porta potties but to make my
way up to the start area. Mistake. The walk from transition to the start is 1
mile. Let's just say it was a good warm up for me. We hustled all the way up
there and thankfully, no lines at the porta potties, yet.
With
an hour to go before I need to be in the start corral, we hung out. We watched
the people every where, relaxed a bit and waited. I then reminded The Husband
not to let me do this again, my nerves just can't handle it. I wanted to use
the restroom one more time before I had to get my wetsuit on. By 5:45 the lines were so long and the bathrooms just
disgusting. 4000 people, 50 porta potties. Enough said.
Off
to the start corral. The crowd in the women 45-49 age group this year is quite
thin. I looked at the results this morning and it looks like a lot of no shows
or maybe DNFs, no way to tell. The start corral is, believe it or not, quite
settling. Everyone in it is about my own age sharing experiences either from
previous races, training rides runs and/or swims. We can see the pros &
elites take off which is amazing. While we were waiting to start we heard the
guy who ultimately did win finished the 1.5 k swim in 11 minutes! WOW! WOW! WOW!
Let me not forget to tell you, waiting to move up, it started to rain.
My
goal this year was to have a good swim. Every year so far, I have had serious
panic attacks about 600 meters into the swim. Last year it was so bad I though
about having the guards pull me out and taking a DNF. I did eventually get past
that and finish. The whistle blows and in we go. The Hudson is murky at best. The
initial jump into the water is a little disorienting. I get back to the surface
and off I go. They post the distances every 300 meters on the sea wall for us
to see. The first one I see is 300 meters. I’m doing ok. I feel ok. I keep
going. I see 600 meters. I think to myself am I ok? I'm ok. Do I need to
backstroke? Nope, all good.
I
see 900 meters. I'm ok. I'm doing it! 1200 meters. Still ok. Moving along,
relaxed (as one can be swimming in the Hudson during a triathlon) this was the
longest part. It felt like the current abandoned me and that I was going
nowhere for quite some time. I didn't care. I have 300 meters left to go and I am
not quitting now.
During
the course of the swim, I did get knocked around a bit. There was some wake
coming in from the motor boats mid river. I also had another swimmer slapping
the back of my leg a couple of times. I felt like “seriously? do you think I am
a piece of wood?” “Move on bitch.” I made it to the end with no panic
attack, no back stroke, no floating. WOOHOO!! HOT DAMN! I let the guys pull me out of the
water and onto the exit ramp. I so much wanted to enjoy the moment but I was a
little too disoriented. On to T1.
The
women have an 800 meter run to T1. I have not been able to run the distance
after the swim in the past. This year, I half ran, half walked. I entered T1,
stripped my wetsuit and peed again at the porta potties. Last year I made the
mistake of leaving transition and going just into the public restroom which
added to my cycling time. I took my time, did my thing and headed out.
It’s
just not just raining at this point, its pouring. I was smart enough to cover
my things on the ground so at least I started off with dry shoes. Riding a bike
in the pouring rain is bad enough add a race to that and conditions just get
dangerous. I was not looking forward to riding in the pouring rain. I was a
little panicked (I guess I had to panic somewhere).
Out
on to the highway. The road was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Usually
when it starts to rain, the oils rise to the surface. It did not look too
slick. I tested my brakes, they seemed ok. I never thought about racing in the
rain and I certainly didn't train for it. I also was not expecting little water
spouts shooting out of the back the bike in front of me.
By
the time we are 15 minutes in, my shoes are loaded with water. I am already wet
from the swim so who cares, but my feet being that was just gross. I have spray
in my face that completely covering my glasses but we are all moving fast. The
only issue I wound up having on the course was my chain popping off. My own
fault due to my aggressive gear changing. Got it back on with no problem other
than being covered in grease. Chain on, heading north, I pass by our current apartment
and head up to Mosholu Parkway for the turnaround. I make the turn and realize
I'm making really good time. I might actually finish in 90 min. Note here: I am
only talking about my race. I am not comparing myself to any other person
on the course. I don’t care about them. I don't share their same genetics,
training or otherwise. My PR is my my PR.
Coming
up on the last leg of the ride and I know I am finishing in a really good time
for me. I am so excited that I have had to two really good legs so far. On to T2.
Into
T2, I execute the same game plan: take my time, do what I need to do and then
head out. I am not racing for money so really who cares. I take my time, pee
and decided to ditch my socks. They are so soaking wet that I don't think it’s
a good idea to run in them. I am afraid of getting itchy feet.
I
leave T2 and walk up the ramp and through Riverside Park onto West 72nd
Street. I needed a minute to recover. My hamstrings and glutes were starting to
cramp. I started to run as soon as I hit the street. Half way up 72nd,
I started talking to a fellow runner. We were both moving at the same pace and,
at that moment, we decided to run together. What a life saver!! I am not a fast
runner and left to my own devices I would have walked a bit out of sheer exhaustion,
both mental and physical. But meeting Kristy at the beginning of the run
allowed me to not think about how much I hurt or how far we had to get. We
chatted the entire time trading war stories of training and previous races.
At
mile 4, I realize no socks with no lube was a really bad idea. I can feel the
blister form and a while later I feel it form again. The rubbing blister is excruciating.
What am I going to do? There are no extra socks on the race course and no lube
for sure. I keep going. This is what is was all for. Who cares if I have a
blister? My next race is a month away and I will be off training for the next
few days. This race and this moment was what it was all for, screw the blister.
As
we closed in on mile 5, the sun started to fight to come out. Next thing I knew,
we crossed the finish line. I was so grateful for her presence. We hugged. We
traded numbers. I will definitely run with my new friend again. Thanks to
Kristy, I was able to shave 3 minutes off my previous run.
What
a day! I am so happy with my race time. I took 2 min off my swim, 10 min of my
ride and 3 minutes off my swim. All told, 3:37:16 for a total of 6 minutes
better than last year. I know what my next goal is but I am going to bask in
the glory of my personal victory for a while. My race year is not over. Iron
Girl Triathlon on Sept. 7th, a few days off to rest,
then back at it. My "A" race complete with a new PR. Ecstatic!
Between
the Hudson River, lube, sweat, bike grease and what ever else made it onto my
body, a shower was the first order of business once home. Well, that was truly
the most painful shower. I had so much exposed skin from blisters and chaffing
I could barely stay under the water. I needed to strategically splash and rinse
myself careful not to let the water hit my heels, back or chest, like playing
twister.
A
giant thank you to The Husband. I would not be able to all of this with him. His
support during the months of training leading up to race day is amazing. He
puts up with all my whining and crying and nerves and crazy schedule and still
comes out on race day and follows me all over the city with enthusiasm. I love
you. And thank you to my Blondish Friend for coming out to cheer me on where on
the race course where I needed it the most.
Laura
