Lake George Triathlon

The Lake George Triathlon was my last triathlon race of the 2013 season. It's an olympic distance race that is always held Labor Day weekend. I am familiar with this venue. I did the bike leg as a member of a relay team three years ago. Two years ago, I did the half-iron distance Aquabike. Obviously, the bike course was different, but the swim venue was the same, just longer for the half. I had signed up to do the olympic last year, but had to skip it because of a funeral. I signed up for Shelburne and Lake George when I realized I wasn't going to be able to do a half this summer. I thought two olympic distance races would be a good step up to the half distance.

Since I had done Shelburne two weeks ago, I had an idea of the result I was looking for. The bike at Shelburne was two miles longer than a traditional olympic distance, and my finishing time was 2:57:12, so I thought I should be able to do around 2:46:00 for this race. Truthfully, though, my real goals for any race are to have a good swim, and to finish. This year, race organizers decided to move the start from the 8:00 a.m. time they've had since its inception, to 7:00 a.m. in order to accommodate Labor Day traffic. Lake George is about 100 miles away, so I decided to get a hotel room for the night before the race. And as long as I was there the night before, I did my packet pick-up to save time race morning. We got a bag, a pair of cycling socks (nice!), a water bottle, and a long-sleeved hoodie (even nicer!) I'm always happy to get some different race swag. We had dinner at The Village Blacksmith restaurant, a local steakhouse. The steak was delicious, but probably not the wisest choice the night before a race. Back to the room to read, surf the Internet on my iPad, play Words With Friends, anything to keep myself distracted. I had a very good swim in Mirror Lake with a friend earlier in the week, my best all season, and I was determined to not have a freak out over the swim. Lights out at 11:30, and I actually slept some. The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. I made myself oatmeal (I brought with me) in the microwave, while my husband fetched coffee from the local Stewart's. I love Stewart's stores, they are the best. We were just five minutes from the race venue; my husband dropped me off with all my gear near transition before 6:00 a.m. I found my bike slot in transition, left everything there, brought my bib to be scanned, and picked up my timing chip. After body marking, I set myself up in transition, and chatted up some of the women nearby. Bike slots in transition are determined by bib numbers, which are determined by age and sex, which determine swim waves. Long way of saying that the people racking their bikes near mine were 40+ year old women. It's actually comforting to find out that everyone worries about the swim, not just me. I found a couple of very good friends in transition, which is also comforting on race morning. 

(That's me with my hands on my hips. No idea what was on my mind at that moment.)

Race instructions were at 6:45 on the beach, so I had my wetsuit on by 6:40, and got in a quick swim. The water was 73 degrees and smooth as glass, just perfect. There were seven swim waves, and mine was the last, so it was a long, nervous wait. We finally got in the water and waited for our signal. I positioned myself to the outside, but not all the way in the back. We got the countdown to go at 7:22. I immediately just started swimming. No panicky feeling, lots of room in front of me. They had five large orange or neon green buoys on each side of the course, very easy to see. I sighted often, and just focused on swimming from buoy to buoy, counting them off as I did. I realized a couple of minutes in that I forgot to start my watch--again!-- but this time I paused for a second and started it. I was in a good rhythm out to the turn-around, had no difficulty at all with breathing. I sighted about every sixth stroke, and because the buoys were so visible and there were so many of them, I didn't have to pick my head up much and interrupt my stroke. About three buoys from shore, I starting passing people. Not many, but I was picking off a person every couple of minutes. I saw a guy in a white cap--they had gone out three waves before mine! Somewhere around the last buoy, I touched someone's feet and looked up and saw several people just in front of me. Where the hell had they come from? I couldn't work it out at the time, but realized afterwards that I caught them! I'm not a fast swimmer, but I'm as steady as a metronome. I think they were people who went out fast and ran out of gas. I swam until my hands touched bottom and I stood up and started to peel off my wetsuit. I was running out of the water with other people, a rare thing for me. My watch said 35 minutes. I knew it was more like 38 minutes, but still, that was 2 minutes faster than Shelburne. 

(Look at that smile! And green caps went out two waves before me!)

It's a long run up the beach, across and up the road, through the chute, and across the timing mat into transition. Stripped off my wetsuit, put on my cycling shoes, grabbed a small bar that I had opened before and stuffed it into my mouth, and put on my helmet. I have the new Giro Air Attack with the face shield. It was a cloudy, muggy morning, and it apparently had rained a little while we were in the water. My shield was wet, making it hard to see. I ran out the other end of transition, crossed the timing mat, mounted the bike and took off. Because I was in the last wave, I was also one of the last 50 people on the bike. 416 individuals did the race, plus 51 relay teams. (There were also 133 men and women racing in collegiate nationals, but they went out in the first two swim waves and are fast, so they were well into the race before I even got on the bike.) The first part of the bike course climbs away from the lake, then follows a bike path for a few miles. Only two people passed me on the bike; one guy from a relay team and I played cat and mouse for most of the race. He finally dropped me about five miles from the end. He was hammering it hard, and I still had to get off the bike and run. The other guy and I did the same in the first few miles, then I dropped him for good around mile 10. Riding the bike path was very dicey. The path is narrow and was open to recreational riders. It's also very curvy and wooded, and with a dark and cloudy morning and a wet visor, my visibility wasn't good. So "relay guy in the orange jersey" was a god-send. I stayed legal distance behind him and let him lead the way. Once off the path, the rest of the course was mostly rollers, which I love. I had my Garmin on the main screen, and mostly focused on heart rate. I just kept catching and passing people the entire ride. I ended up with the 84th fastest bike time overall. If you subtract 30 to account for the people who came out of the water behind me, I literally passed 300 people on the bike. I drank one 200 calorie bottle of Heed and had one GU gel on the bike.

Back into transition, and out for the run, I saw some of the collegiates finishing the race. I forced myself to not think about that. They had started over 20 minutes before me, and are, what, 35 years younger than me? Can't dwell on stuff like that. I have never done this run course, though a friend had cautioned me that it's hilly. It's a two-loop course that gains over 250 feet per loop. The first hill came almost at the start, and is longer and not too steep. The second hill comes about two-thirds of the way into the loop, and is shorter and steeper. There were three water stations; I grabbed water at every one, took a quick gulp, then doused myself with the rest. It was getting very muggy, and I was starting to feel it on the run. When I got to the steep hill on the first loop, I saw some people walking, and I told myself, "Thou shalt not walk." I dropped my eyes down to the road, and ran leaf to crack to leaf until I was at the top. The second loop was easier since I now knew what to expect. My first and fifth miles were the fastest; around mile four I was really wishing for rain, it felt so muggy. There were tons of people cheering us on. The road back to the beach was lined with cars. On the first loop, I was feeling kind of guilty that we were holding them up. On the second loop, when I saw some of the same people, I realized that they were parked there specifically to cheer on the racers. It was so awesome, it really gave me a mental boost. The run seemed to go pretty quickly. I didn't feel like I was really hurting until the fourth mile, but once I climbed the steep little hill, I knew I had mostly downhill to the finish. When I got to the finish chute, I found a kick, and saw 3:09 on the race clock. Minus the 22 minutes for my wave start, I knew I was close to my goal. 

A local brewery, Adirondack Brewery, sponsors this race, and each racer could get two free beers. My stomach wasn't feeling that great. I drank some cold water, then went down to the lake to rinse off and cool down. I felt much better afterwards, and hit the beer tent for my first beer. Saw some friends there, and we did the debrief. I was so happy that I'd had a good race, so happy to be drinking a beer with a friend. I went to the food tent after and had a little bit to eat, then checked the results sheet. I saw my official time, 2:47:22. Okay, a little slower than I thought I might do, but I knew the run was much hillier than Shelburne, and so my run time was a little slower. Then, I saw a "20" and a "2" next to my name. I had to follow the numbers to the top of the column before I realized that I had finished 20th woman out of 132, 2nd in my age group! I truly had not expected that. This is a big race, attracts people from all over. I just didn't consider the possibility that I would have a high finish, or place in my age group. Yes! I changed into dry clothes, then waited with friends for the awards. My friend, Lynne, did the bike for a women's relay team, and they took first place. Another friend, Jim Adams, took 2nd in his age group. I had walked with Jim for part of Ironman Lake Placid, and he gave me his finishers cap afterwards. We all got beer glasses, nice! 

(Not sure what that face is about. I look like I'm about to cry!)

On the ride home, I was really sad that the season was over. I started with the Lake Placid Spinervals camp, had a seriously low moment at the Y-tri, and finished feeling like I had accomplished so much. I'm planning to do some running races this fall, and to start back to building base October 1st. My goal for next summer is a half-ironman, maybe two. Can't wait!

Race stats: 2:47:22, swim-00:38:26, bike-1:13:12, run-00:51:48. (Official results)

Altamont 5k

I met Marje Brown in 7th grade, and we've been best friends ever since. That's 42 years worth of ever since: High school, college, marriages, babies, divorces, jobs, houses, parents. We've shared it all. Last fall, Marje moved away to start a new career. She also started exercising and running. She took the running to the next level by entering some 5ks, and I believe she is hooked. She and I have been trying to coordinate our schedules in order to do a race together. Last weekend, Marje's daughter, Katie, was married in Albany, NY. Marje emailed me to ask what I thought of doing a 5k in a neighboring town the morning after the wedding. I said, "I'm in, if you're in." The race was the 16th Annual Altamont 5k in Altamont, NY. The race is a benefit for a local food shelf. We pre-registered, a very reasonable $16, in order to save time on race day. And, we reasoned, if we didn't go, it's a donation to a worthy cause.

The wedding was fantastic! Drinks, hors d'oeuvres, ceremony, dinner, drinks, dancing--as mother of the bride, Marje celebrated without reservation. So did I. We caught the 11:00 p.m. shuttle back to the hotel. Marje was feeling a little nauseous, and I definitely had a pretty good buzz going. I don't drink much anymore, so I was feeling it. Around 7:15 the next morning, I sent Marje a text asking if she was awake. She was and ready to go. I headed downstairs to the breakfast bar for my usual oatmeal and coffee. We met in the lobby and headed out. On the way, I remembered that the race website asked for a donation of non-perishable food items, so we stopped at a Price Chopper to pick up a few things.

The race start was at Bozenkill Park in Altamont. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, a touch cool but warming up fast. Good thing, because I had on a tank and running shorts, but neglected to pack even a sweatshirt. We picked up our race packets, did our pre-race stuff, and headed to the start. It was a pretty large event, with a few hundred people. The race started a little bit after the 9:00 start time. We positioned ourselves near the back. Before the race, I asked Marje what her target finish time was. Her PR was just over 37 minutes, so she was aiming for 37 even. I had my Garmin 910 on, which allows me to track current and average pace, distance, and time, all in one screen. I did some quick math and figured we'd need to average around 11:45 minute miles to achieve that. The course was a counter-clockwise loop from the park. The first mile and a quarter was a gradual gain in elevation of about 75 feet. We averaged 11:59 for that first mile. I hadn't looked at the map, so I wasn't sure of the course, but I thought if we were gaining at the start, then we should have a downhill for the second half. And we did. As we neared the end of the climbing, we approached a corner, and Marje remarked that she may need to walk, depending on the terrain. A moment later, I had a view around the corner, and it was down! We continued to run, and clocked the second mile in 11:48. I was keeping a close eye on my watch and was just talking, giving Marje some racing tips, talking about mental tricks that I use. As we neared the three mile mark, I had a good idea that Marje was headed for a PR, but I didn't tell her, I just kept looking at my watch and tried to push the pace a bit. We hit the three mile mark at the entrance to the park, and had run that mile in 11:28. We had 1:45 to run the last tenth of a mile, uphill, to the finish line. I asked Marje if she felt like she could sprint a little. She said, "I know I'm not going to PR," and I replied, "We'll see." I picked up the pace. Marje said she was giving it all she had. We could see the finish line, and I said, "You've got this, you're almost there!" I dropped behind her, and just yelled, "Go, go, go!" I stopped my watch as Marje crossed just in front of me, 36:47! We were both so excited! Our first race together, and the best outcome we could've hoped for. The whole experience was fantastic. They had cool t-shirts (one I will actually wear), water, iced tea, and cookies, lots of free samples, and a nice bag from a local sports medicine clinic. I would absolutely do this race again. And I believe this is just the first of many races Marje and I will run together.

Shelburne Olympic Triathlon

This past Sunday, I did an olympic distance triathlon in Shelburne, VT. This is the longest distance triathlon that I've completed to date, and part of my plan to step up to longer distance races. When I attended Coach Troy Jacobson's Lake Placid camp, he recommended that pursuing an Ironman finish should be a five-year plan. I did my first tri, a sprint distance at this same location, three years ago. It's taken me this long to finally step up to a longer distance. My hip injury and subsequent surgery set me back about a year. Since then, I've done a half-distance Aquabike, several "mini-tris", and a couple of non-conventional distance races between the sprint and olympic distances.

I felt I was as prepared for this race as I could be. My goal for the swim was under 40 minutes. I've been doing open water swims all summer, almost all of them around 1.2 miles, so I knew I could do a 0.9 mile swim. The bike course was 27 miles, a little long for an olympic, so my goal for the whole race was under three hours. I set my alarm for 4:15 a.m. We had to catch the 5:25 a.m. Grand Isle ferry to Vermont. I had time to force-feed myself a little oatmeal and brew some coffee to bring along. I had packed my gear and bike into the car the night before, so I just had to dress and eat. We were out of the house by 4:50 and at the ferry dock in plenty of time. I didn't sleep much the night before, and my nerves were in high gear. I let my husband drive; in retrospect, it would've been better if I drove. It gives me something to do and focuses my attention away from perseverating on the race, especially the swim. My stomach was bothering me, and I had a minor breakdown of confidence before we got to the race site. I hate those long, early morning drives on race morning. Too much time to think, and no outlet for my nervous energy. Once I get to the race site, I'm much better. I pick up my race packet, get body-marked, set up my transition. I like to take my bike for a quick ride to make sure it's in the gear I want. In this case, it was good that I did, because I had racked my bike by the handlebars, and discovered that the brake levers were stuck on the rack. When I returned with the bike, I racked it by the seat. I saw my friend, Mary Duprey and her family, and we talked for a bit. Mary's daughter, Tori, was doing the sprint race, her first triathlon. And Tori's boyfriend was doing the olympic along with Mary. We discussed whether to wear our neoprene socks. Zebra mussels are a huge problem in Lake Champlain. They are an invasive species, and besides all the problems they cause for indigenous lake life-forms, they are razor sharp and can cut your feet to shreds. I have a scar on my little toe from brushing a zebra mussel a couple of years ago that required a few stitches. We heard the swim start for this race had changed because of a zebra mussel infestation. We elected to wear our socks. I had time to do a warm-up swim. I'm glad I did. The water was a little chillier than I expected, and I swam long enough to get over that breathless feeling. We got refreshingly short race instructions--thank you, Rayne Herzog!--and we were back in the water waiting for the gun.

(I think that's me all alone in the center of the picture.)

Despite what I said after the Lake Placid mini-tri earlier in the week, I decided to position myself at the back and off to the side. I wanted empty water ahead of me, and I needed to have a successful swim. In other words, a panic-free swim. The race started, and off we went. I started out slowly to let myself re-acclimate to the water temperature. It was a triangular swim from the boat launch. There were only four buoys for the entire course; two for the sprint and two for the olympic. We swam past the sprint buoy to the first olympic buoy, made an acute angle turn to swim across Shelburne Bay to the other olympic buoy, then made a right-angle turn towards shore, swimming past the sprint buoy. The swim across the bay was a long stretch that truly needed at least one buoy. It was hard to sight across that stretch, that far buoy was so far away. The bay is shallow and weedy in spots, but I felt secure the entire time. I passed three people before the turn and felt like I was completely alone for the swim across the bay. I had to sight and correct often, and by the second buoy, I was feeling tired. About halfway from the buoy to shore, I heard a voice and stopped to discover that I was a little off-course. A very nice man in a kayak was alerting me to this fact, and I asked him if I was last. He said, "Oh, no, you're doing fine!" (Turns out, only three people finished after me.) It gave me a nice boost and I swam to shore without any other problems. When my hands touched bottom, I stood up to walk in. Problem was, I was still a ways from shore. The water got thigh deep again, which is very tiring to walk through. My feet touched shore at exactly 40 minutes. I hit a button on my watch, which turned out to be the stop button and not the lap button. I ran up the launch, a steep little hill, and to my bike. I had a good spot in transition, less than ten feet from the bike out. There's only one timing mat for this race, so T1 is part of your swim time, and T2 is part of your run. The bike time is the only pure time. As I sat to peel off my wetsuit, I realized that my watch was stopped, so I restarted it and hit the lap button to advance it to T1. I struggled getting my wetsuit off, because I had put the socks on over the wetsuit. Bad idea. The swim was hard for me, and I was feeling a little spent. Finally got the wetsuit off, shoes and helmet on, ate a mini-Larabar, shoved a gel in my pocket, and went. Turns out, my transition was only about a minute. Seemed like an eternity.

The first five mile lap on the bike was my slowest. There is a climb out of transition, and the first few miles are generally uphill. Plus, I had never changed the bike on my Garmin 500 from my road bike to my tri bike, so it wasn't registering my cadence. I fooled with that for a few minutes and finally got it fixed. I had the Garmin 500 on the bike because it's hard to see my watch when I'm aero, and I want to watch my numbers. Need to work on a better system. In any event, after five miles, I felt recovered from the swim, had everything working, and I started to hammer. The bike course is a couple of miles out, then two clock-wise loops with climbs on the 6:00-12:00 side, and some incredible downhills on the other side. There was also a charming little covered bridge, very New England! After the second loop, we turned away from the return to do a five mile out and back before returning to transition. I passed everyone I came to and felt like I was making up for the time I had lost on the swim. It was a nice downhill stretch back into transition, so I eased up a bit on the power, and spun a higher cadence to loosen up my legs. I had hoped to finish the bike in about 1:20:00. I ended up with 19.5 mph average speed, which gave me a 1:23:00 bike split. I don't think I could've gone any harder and still have legs for the run. I did another fairly quick transition, about 1:45. When you head out for the run on this course, you have to run away from the finish line, all the way down through the bike racks, and back up that distance again, but outside the finish line/timing mat. 

Again, the course is an uphill run out of transition. Thankfully, there is a turn after a half mile or so, down a cinder road which comes to a T, then a turn on a paved road for an out and back. The course is a mix of roller-type hills and flat sections. Whenever my watch beeped the one mile splits, I was happy to see times in the low to mid 8's and even high 7's. I passed everyone I came to once again, and this time, no one passed me on the run. I just tried to keep a steady pace, and stay focused on my form. It was getting warm. I carried my hand-held bottle, and grabbed water at the aide stations mostly to pour on myself. I felt strong and steady for the entire run, and was cruising the downhill back to the finish line. I saw 2:58:30-something on the clock, and kicked it up a gear to make sure I finished under three hours. I was ecstatic to be done and to have accomplished my two goals for this race--in control on the swim and an under three hour finish. When we got results, Mary had finished second overall, so I knew I had a chance at age group. I was second place, but was awarded the age group win due to Mary's overall finish. I won a medal and a beer glass. The t-shirt for this race was an extra $20, I think, but I ponied up for it because I heard it was a nice shirt. I wasn't disappointed, it's a nice tech shirt with an awesome graphic. They also do a raffle after. The grand prize was a wetsuit, which Tori won. I won a $25 gift card to Fleet Feet. I had a $10 off certificate from another race, and combined the two to get a new pair of Brooks Ghost 6 running shoes. Great day, I need to put this race, the sprint at least, on my yearly race schedule.

Race stats: Swim-40:01, T1-1:07, Bike-1:23:23, T2-1:47, Run-50:54. Total official time: 2:57:12. 19/20 women on the swim, 5/20 on the bike, 7/20 on the run, 8th place overall. 

High Peaks Cyclery Mini-Tri

High Peaks Cyclery bike shop in Lake Placid has been running a weekly mini-tri series for the past 29 summers. It's a 400 yard swim, 12 mile bike and three mile run, making it almost a sprint distance race. I've been doing triathlon for three years, and had heard about this series right from the beginning. My friend, Sandy, has been gently encouraging me to do one, and I finally did last night. The races are on Monday nights, starting at 6:30. Mondays are usually my rest days, and Lake Placid is almost an hour's drive from where I live, so I had a couple of easy excuses for not going. Last night's race was the last of the season, and I desperately needed redemption from my DNF at the Y-tri two weekends ago. I rode the Ididaride the day before, a 75 mile ride with over 4300' of climbing. I averaged 17.6 mph, and my average heart rate was just over 130 bpm, so I knew I hadn't gone too deep. When I woke up yesterday, my legs were feeling good, so I decided to go.

We got to Lake Placid early. The race director, Brian Delaney, set my bike up in the primo location in transition. I got my area set up, and took my bike for a quick spin. Decided to go with my shallower rear wheel with the 12/27 cassette. Put my wetsuit on and did a warm up swim almost all the way to the first buoy. I felt good. It was a beautiful, sunny evening and the water was smooth. I got out of the water and listened to the race instructions. Now, one thing I've noticed is when I get out of the water and don't remove my wetsuit right away, it "suctions" to my body. That's the only way I can describe it. I really should at least unzip my wetsuit after my warmup swim, then zip it quickly and pull the neck down to let some water in before I start swimming. I was all the way to the back, where I always start. Another thing I need to change. I only swim freestyle in races, and once I get into a rhythm, I'm fine. The problem is, I'm always swimming with the breast- and back-strokers, and I can't get going. The same thing happened last night. The race began, I started swimming, and I was immediately on the feet of slow people or whip-kickers that I couldn't get around. My wetsuit felt suffocatingly tight, and I was starting to panic. My heart rate was through the roof, and I could feel that weak, hypoxic feeling in my arms and legs. I entertained the thought of quitting for one second, but just couldn't stomach the thought of being a two-time loser. So, I just kept swimming. I somehow made it to the turn-around buoy, then managed to find some open water in front of me. Sighted a few times, only had to adjust once. I swam right into the exit, stood up and hit the lap button on my watch, and turned around to see how many people were still in the water. Shocked to see maybe 20 swim caps, and that only 11 minutes had elapsed since the race start. I always feel like I'm in the water forever, and that I'm last. Next race, I'm positioning myself about 3/4 of the way back. I think that's where I truly belong, and hopefully, it will keep me with the freestyle swimmers.

As I ran into transition, I yelled to my husband to grab a gel for when I finished the bike. That weak feeling was translating into a hungry feeling. I think I just imagined it, but it couldn't hurt to have a gel. I knew I had a 100 calorie bottle of Heed on the bike, so I should be okay. I did a quick transition, about 1:30, then headed out on the bike. I hammered it. I love the bike leg; I feel so strong, and I'm always so glad to be done the swim. Headed down Mirror Lake Drive to Northwood Road, a little climb there, then down to Route 86, and a lovely, fast downhill through the Notch to River Road. I passed everyone I came to. I was flying! After the turn on River Road, there is a little bump. I passed a couple of people there, then thought it would be a good time to grab another drink before I settled in the aerobars to time-trial River Road. As I reached down to put my bottle back on the seat tube, I muffed it, and my bottle went under the bike. Dammit! I just got that bottle at Ididaride the day before. I was only four miles into the ride, and there went my calories and fluid. It was a cool evening, maybe low 70's at this point, so I made an instaneous decision to leave the bottle. I had my handheld for the run, and my husband would have a gel ready for me. That would have to be good enough. River Road is made for me, with a few little rollers to work. I continued to pass people. I heard an admiring, "Whoa!," when I passed one young guy. I heard my watch beep a 5 mi lap and saw 12:56. The next beep, after turning from River Road to Route 73, and climbing the hill after the bridge back up to Route 86, showed 14:37. A spectator on that hill cheered my Team Placid Planet kit, and told me I had a cool helmet (Giro Air Attack with the face shield ). I did the math, and knew my ride would be about 35 minutes. Took the right on 86, back to Northwood and Mirror Lake Drive. My husband had the gel ready for me, and I was in and out of transition in about 45 seconds. I was worried that my shins would start rebelling, or I'd just suffer a general rebellion from my body because of the 75 miles the day before. I felt a little redlined as I ran that first mile on Mirror Lake Drive. I made the turn onto a dirt road just as my watch beeped a one-mile lap, and I was shocked to see 7:46. Holy crap, I was flying! The dirt road is a bit of a climb. A few people passed me shortly after transition, but then I started passing people on that dirt road. I made the turn-around, and had a nice downhill in front of me. Started to feel like I had my legs under me. Back to the end of the dirt road, my watch beeped again, and it was just two seconds slower than the first lap. I was back on Mirror Lake Drive with a mile to go, and I just pushed as hard as I could, keeping a good rhythm. Only two guys passed me after the dirt road. I heard my watch beep one more time before the finish (I can never figure out how to run the shortest distance on a race course), and I had run a 7:36 mile. Another tenth of a mile and I was at the finish line, so happy to have finished the race feeling so strong! My watch said 1:12:59. (Link to results)

Afterwards, everyone who races grabs a raffle ticket for some awesome prizes. I know they do the raffle every week. I'm not sure what the prizes typically are, but this week they had running shoes, fuel belts, beer from Lake Placid Brewery, shirts, googles, socks, gloves...all great stuff. I didn't win anything, but the age-group awards were coming up next. Before the raffle, I had wandered over to the table at the finish line where two formidable-looking women were entering results on a laptop. I tried peeking over their shoulders and got the hairy eyeball, and was told that Brian would give the results, so I slunk away, not knowing how I finished. After the raffle, Brian called out the age-group winners, starting with the youngest to oldest women, then the same with the men. There was a table full of items to choose from: Baseball caps, water bottles, nutrition and hydration, gym bags, etc...Again, awesome swag! Now, Lake Placid is a world-renowned vacation destination, which typically draws very fit people. Around 70 individuals and 10 teams did the race this week, and they were from all over. A woman from Far Hills, NJ won my age group. She beat me by about two minutes. When all the age-group winners were called, I started to leave, thinking it was over. I was half way to my car when I realized it wasn't over, and they were calling 2nd place winners. I got back just in time to hear my name, and I picked up a nice gym bag. I was very happy with my performance, happy that I toughed out the swim, and that I was walking away with some swag. It was almost 9:00 at this point (if you do this race be prepared for a long evening!), so we went to Wise Guys for dinner--they serve until 2:30 a.m. and the food is great. On the way home, I swung onto River Road and found my water bottle. Bonus!

**A Team Placid Planet group email went around the next day, and a couple of race veterans commented on how rough the swim was. One guy was sporting a bump on his head from being hit or kicked. I know I wasn't near that scrum, but there were a lot of people for this shoreline swim, so I don't feel so bad for feeling like it was a tight swim.

DNF or Die?

In my last post, I said that I had to quit a local race. I've signed up for a few races or events over the years that I didn't end up doing for various reasons (weather, illness, unexpected funeral), but I'd never quit a race I'd started. I've mentioned before that I'm not a strong swimmer. I never learned to swim well as a kid. We didn't have access to a pool. I took lessons for a couple of years at the local swim hole, which was basically a wide spot in the river. A farm bordered the opposite bank, and there were often cows drinking knee-deep in the water. A car had gone into the river off the bridge years ago, and wasn't removed until I was an adult, so we were always being cautioned to be careful. Lots of sliced feet on glass and rusty metal over the years from that car. The river got deep very quickly, so I could only wade out to my knees, and then it would drop away over my head. My mother grew up during the polio epidemic and wasn't allowed to swim at public beaches, so she grew up a non-swimmer fearful of the water. All-in-all, it added up to me reaching adulthood as basically a non-swimmer. I signed up for an 8-week course of adult swimming lessons at the Y when I was 47, then basically just worked and worked until I taught myself how to swim. I have a decent freestyle stroke; I look pretty in the water, but there isn't a lot of power behind it. It's mostly decorative. Means I'm also not a fast swimmer. If the water is calm, and I don't have a scrum of people around me, I can manage a consistent 2:25-ish per 100 meters. It gets the job done, and my real strength is cycling, so once I'm out of the water in a triathlon, I pass a lot of people. I'm a decent runner when I'm not injured, so I generally can maintain my position on the run.

The race this past weekend was a local triathlon that is put on every year by the Y. It starts with a half mile swim in Lake Champlain. Lake Champlain is a big, deep body of water, the sixth largest fresh water lake in the U.S. The bay that the swim takes place in for this race is a large, south-facing bay. There's almost always a south wind blowing into that bay in the summer. It's just a matter of degrees. Last year, it was a light wind, and I did the swim in about 22 min, which was excellent for me. This year, there were white caps. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the boat go out to reposition the third buoy, which had blown at least 15 yards out of position just minutes before the race started. That meant that no matter how rough it seemed from the shore, it was worse out there. I did a warm up swim with a friend, and the lake tossed me around at will. (That's me on the left).

 

My former master's swim coach came out from her warmup swim, and remarked how rough it was. I asked her for advice and she said to glue my chin to my shoulder when I rolled to breathe, so I could get air. Someone else said to stay long and glide. A couple of people told me to relax. That's not helpful advice when you know you're in a potentially dangerous situation. I know my abilities better than anyone, and "relaxing" doesn't smooth the water. The swim started, and at first I thought, "Okay, this isn't so bad." Then I heard my friend Sandy yell, and I looked and was swimming away and to the left of the main pack. I normally tend to swim to the right, but the wind and waves were pushing me left and I had just gone with the feel of the water. Unfortunately, the course had us swimming straight into the wind. As soon as I corrected, all forward progress became an enormous struggle. When you weigh 115 pounds and you don't have a strong catch and pull, the waves just pick you up and throw you back. Tucking my chin helped, I was getting air, I just wasn't getting anywhere. I tried back-stroking for a minute. It was ok, except I wasn't moving any further ahead than I was doing freestyle. Doggie-paddle, side-stroke, it didn't matter, the waves were winning. I had made it about half way out, and I was getting exhausted. I felt myself starting to struggle and I thought, "This is getting dangerous." There were only three boats in the water for about 55 participants. A larger, motor boat was out just past the last buoy. A young girl on a kayak had the outbound side of the buoys, and a young guy on a jetski had the inbound side. The kayaker was struggling to hold her position in the water because of the waves. The distance between the pack and myself and a couple of other swimmers was growing. I did the math and decided it was time to call it a day. I hung onto the kayak for a minute to recover, then told her I could swim into shore on my own, which I did. It was so easy compared to what I had just gone through. As soon as I stood up, and saw all those spectators standing on shore, staring at me, I immediately felt humiliated and regretted my decision. A very anxious-looking girl in a wetsuit was standing on shore. I surmised that she had been too fearful to even start the swim, and she glommed on to my side as soon as I got out of the water, two pathetic quitters, facing down the onlookers. A race organizer demanded our numbers. I couldn't remember mine, and had to peel off the sleeve of my wetsuit to expose my Sharpied shoulder. All I could think was that they wanted my number so they could put DNF after my name in the paper.  I walked up through the crowd, not speaking to anyone, nor anyone speaking to me. I saw my husband. He got stopped for speeding on the way to the race, talked his way out of a ticket, but arrived after the start. I said something very unkind to him, took off my goggles, but kept my hands up on the straps, covering my face, and started to cry. I'm sure many of my friends saw me. I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of there. My bike had blown over while I was in the water. I grabbed everything I could see in my transition area, and practically ran to my car, racked the bike, stripped off my wetsuit, threw everything in the car and left. I found out later that my helmet and sunglasses, which had been placed so carefully on my handlebars for a speedy transition, had fallen on the ground when my bike blew over. As soon as I got home, I went for a 4 1/2 mile run and a forty mile bike ride, crying from time to time. I felt humiliated and frustrated. I had worked so hard and wanted so badly to do well. I was a quitter.

The next day, I read an article by Tim DeBoom, castigating quitters, saying there are no excuses. The article was about pros quitting during a race because they were losing. Still, it stung. I felt like he was talking to me. People say DNF or die, but is that a mantra we really want to be promoting? How many people have died during the swim leg in triathlon this past year? How many people run themselves into a season-ending injury because they won't quit a workout even when something hurts? I would never quit a race once the swim is done. I'm always grinning like a maniac once I'm on the bike, happy to have survived the swim, and thrilled to be doing my favorite leg of the race. I'm fighting painful shin splints right now and have to parse my run workouts in order to be able to keep running enough to get me through my races. But, I'm still running. I'm incredibly disappointed in myself, but I've decided to let it go and move on. And I'm thinking we need to lighten up on the "DNF or die" message. What's the point here? I'm not getting paid to do this, and it is supposed to be fun. There was nothing fun about that race, but life goes on. I have another race in a couple of weeks, in a different, more-protected bay in the same lake. I'll be making sacrifices to Aeolus, God of Wind, to take a breather that day and let me redeem myself.

Going Solo

I did my first triathlon completely alone. It was a sprint tri in Shelburne, VT. My friend, Mary Duprey told me about it. It's a very "beginner" friendly race. The swim is a rectangular, mostly shore-line swim, in pretty shallow water. This was the main selling point for me. It was 2010, and I'd only been swimming a short time, with very few open water swims of any kind under my belt. I kind of wanted to do it under the radar, without the pressure of expectations from family and friends. I got up very early, caught a 5-something a.m. ferry to Vermont all by myself. Arrived at the site, didn't know a soul there, set up my transition, something I'd never done before, got my wetsuit on, and well, the details aren't really important. I did have some difficulty on the swim, but I survived, and finished in 1:30. As I was bringing my bike and gear back to my car, I started to cry, because I wished someone had been there to share it with me. Little did I know.

At the time of this race, I had been doing cycling races and events for about three years. Bike races aren't very exciting for spectators. They get to see the beginning and the end, and unless the race or event is long enough and the course is accessible by car, they aren't going to see anything else. As a result, I never asked my family or anyone else to come and watch me race. I was always racing or riding with my cycling friends, so I had them with me for support. Triathlon is different. Spectators see you at the beginning, at both transitions, and at the finish. That makes it much more exciting for them, and it's so motivating as a participant to see friendly faces (and hear their encouragement) during the race. I think it was 2011 before my husband first came to one of my races. He's been good about getting more interested and involved in my racing, and my son has even seen me race a few times. And...that's pretty much it. Now, don't get me wrong. I mostly do smaller, local races, and I do about one a month, from February to November, so I don't expect to have a posse at every one. I also understand that people have lives, and jobs, and children. I know it isn't easy. I'm just so wistfully jealous when I see a whole cheering section, complete with t-shirts and signs, thrilled to be at a race cheering on their loved one. I volunteered at Ironman Lake Placid last week for the 6th year in a row, and it always just amazes me how whole families--spouses, children, parents, siblings, friends--not only take the time to travel for the race, but stay on the course all day and half-way into the night to cheer on their Ironman. The whole reason I volunteer is to be on the course for the chance to see someone who is special to me, that I want to support. 

Which brings me to why I'm writing this tonight. I have a triathlon tomorrow. It's a local race, classic distance: half mile swim, 18 mile bike, and four and a half mile run. I'm a little nervous, per usual. I will know most of the other participants. It's a small town, we all travel in the same circles, belong to the same gym, do the same races. But, other than my husband, no one will go to this race for the purpose of watching ME race. Possibly my son, but not my father, none of my eight brothers and sisters (or their spouses or children), none of my co-workers, none of my friends. Very few of them are athletic, and they just don't value what I do. If the topic of my training and racing comes up, the usual comments call into question my sanity, my safety, and their own physical state of disrepair. There is absolutely no interest in the details of the race, how I did, how I train, what's my motivation...And I'm not that guy, poseur-data guy, boring everyone with my racing vitae. I just wish the conversation didn't always go something like this, Them: "Alicia, why are you limping?" Me: "Oh, I did a race yesterday." Them: "That reminds me, why do cyclists ride on the right-hand side of the road? Shouldn't they ride against traffic? Seems like that would be safer." Every year after I work Ironman, I consider maybe racing it someday. If I did, I know I'd be doing it basically on my own. If your family and friends wouldn't go to watch you do an Ironman, they're not going to understand the six months of 15-hour training weeks prior to the race. They don't get what I do, now. And, if no one who is close to you "gets" Ironman, then does it matter? If a tree falls in the forest...? 

Postscript: I DNF'ed the race. A storm was blowing in and there were one to two foot waves on Lake Champlain, coming head-on to shore. I'm just not strong enough to swim in that. I tried, made it almost to the second buoy, and I was just so tired, I had to quit. Couldn't get air, swallowed so much water. No credit for trying, everyone else did fine, except for one girl who didn't even start. My humiliation will be complete when it's in the local paper tomorrow. I left right away, so upset with myself for quitting. I knew it would be tough when I saw the water. I drove down early by myself, and my husband was going to take his motorcycle and get there before the start. I was so nervous about the swim, and I kept looking for him before the start, but he never showed up. The failure is all mine, but having one person there who cares about me would have been nice. I think I should stop dreaming about Ironman and just ride my bike. 

Tour de Rand Hill

Sometimes, events go exactly as you hope, or better, and sometimes they don't. Tupper Lake was a positive event, Tour de Rand Hill, not so much. I've done this race every year since 2008. It's a small, local race, around 35 participants every year. A half-dozen women would be a lot. I've won the women's category twice before this year. I always tell myself that I'm beating everyone sitting on their couch, and, if I crack the top 10 overall, I feel like I'm proving that I deserve some kind of recognition. The race starts at the YMCA in Plattsburgh, NY. It's a controlled start until we leave the city proper, about a mile. The next six miles are along Route 374, with a 500 foot gain in elevation on a well-paved, wide-shouldered road. The real racing usually starts once riders make the right-hand turn on Rand Hill Road, where they will encounter over 900 feet of climbing over the next 7 miles. The first mile and a half is the steepest: about 460 feet of climbing, with an average grade of 6%. The general plan of attack is for a smaller group to break from the pack and ride hard and steady in a team time trial mode until they reach the hill, where it's every man for himself. Usually, a couple of young, strong riders will go off the front and duke it out for 1st place. This year was different.

Two days before the race, a young fellow rider and daughter of a friend messaged me asking me for tips on how to ride this race. She is racing an Ironman in Mont Tremblant next month, and has been riding with some of us on our longer rides to get her miles in. She rides a tri bike and handles the bike expertly in a pack, never in her aero bars unless she is on the front. She is also very strong, and a good overall athlete. She did the half ironman in Tupper Lake in just under five hours, and finished the bike leg of a rolling course in 2:40. She did the CVPH ride with my group last week, and beat me on every climb. My first thought was, "I'm not winning this year." My second thought was, "I shouldn't win. Erin is faster. That's the way it is." I love her mom, Sandy. She and I are in the same age group, and we're about even against each other in age-group wins. Sandy ALWAYS gives me advice and helps me out in races. So, I spelled out for Erin how the race usually goes, and what I try to do to put myself in the best position to win. Erin admitted that she was very nervous about the race, and I made things worse by telling her I had no doubt that she would win. That's a lot of pressure. I know, because people often do that to me, and I don't like it. I should've known better.

The morning of the race was cloudy, showery and windy. I was experiencing the, "Why do I do this to myself?," race-morning doubts. I gave myself the usual race-morning pep-talk: You can't control the weather, who shows up, or what happens during the race. Focus on what you can control. Wish I had stopped there, but I went on to think: The weather is lousy, that will keep people away, and a lot can happen during a race, it isn't over until its over. The third year I did this race, I dropped my chain right before the climb, and put a cog through my thumb trying to get it back on. I didn't realize it until I saw blood all over my leg about a mile later. I went on to finish the race. A younger, stronger girl won that year, I was second. My incident had no effect on the outcome, but could have for the third place woman had I not finished.

When I got to the Y, I did all my usual pre-race prep, then a friend asked me if I wanted to go for a warm-up. Erin was close by, so I called to her to join us. I spelled out the race strategy for her again, reiterating that I thought she would win. She was very nervous and asked me not to say that, so I amended it to, I thought she would do well. Back at the Y, we did a quick raffle, were given race instructions, and reminded to be safe. I added to those around me, "and have fun." We followed the police car down Oak Street, crossed Boynton Avenue to Route 374 and the race began. It was different from any other year. A good friend who is a Cat 2 racer and sometimes participant (and always winner when he is) of this event, was racing this year. His victory was a foregone conclusion, yet his presence had all the guys acting jumpy. We had a quick break, which nearly every faster cyclist made, then the pace was controlled, but very tense. We would go from two pacelines to three, then back to two, everyone fighting to stay on the wheel ahead of them, and not letting anyone in as the lines formed and reformed. There was a pretty stiff cross-wind, which was making the bikes feel twitchy. I initially went for the middle paceline, thinking I'd be protected from the wind there, but quickly decided to go for the outside line. Even though I was getting the brunt of the wind there, I was more comfortable away from all the nervous wheels, and I could cover jumps, which were happening every couple of minutes. Some young guy would take a flier, and my Cat 2 friend would immediately cover it. All of us would go with him, and as soon as our flier was caught, the pace would slow down again. At some point in the middle of all that tension, Erin got caught between two pacelines and overlapped wheels with the rider to her right. I was to her left and slightly behind. The rider reported after that her front wheel hit his foot. I saw the contact and her attempt to control her bike, but it was too late and she went down hard. She hit shoulder first, still clipped in. The impact caused her feet to unclip and her bike cartwheeled through the air towards me. The sound of a bike crash is awful. I registered several things at once: The absolute certainty that I was going to crash with my new frame, wondering who it was I saw go airborne over Erin, and Erin's bike coming towards me. Several seconds seemed to pass before I realized that I wasn't going to crash, and that I had blocked Erin's bike with my forearm. I know I didn't touch my brakes, partly because I had to lift my hand off my handlebars to protect myself. We slowed the pace down to allow those in the crash but unhurt, or behind the crash, to catch up before the climb. There are all kinds of thoughts that go through your head after: Should I stop, should I go back, how badly are people hurt? The first few riders to catch up stated that they didn't think anyone was seriously hurt, and that a few people were stopped to help out, so we continued on. In the end, it is a race, I guess, and these things are part of it. 

The rest of the race was uneventful. Another break went, I covered it, and we dropped a few people. Then another jump. This time I just couldn't stay on the wheel in front of me. My heart rate was above 170 and we hadn't even started the climb, yet. There were no women in front of me, and I felt that whoever was behind wouldn't be able to catch me on the climb. I rode the rest of it at a strong tempo pace. I passed a few guys on the climb, one guy on a tri bike passed me on a flat section after the big climb. I tried to grab his wheel, but couldn't, but passed him when the road went up again. I was down in my drops and hammering when I could see the finish line. One guy who was in the crash came out of nowhere and passed me on the left before the line, followed by tri guy on my right. I have a suspicion I gave him his lead out. I was the first woman, but it was a hollow victory. I finished 10th overall, probably would've been 12th or 13th without the crash--it was a strong field for this race. Erin got pretty banged up, but there was no serious damage to her or her bike, and she's on track to be ready for Mont Tremblant in a couple of weeks. The guy who came out of nowhere to pass on my left, unknowingly rode the rest of the race on a broken frame. A seat stay on his carbon bike was broken through, but still somehow attached. I had a couple of cuts on my hand, one through my glove and a deeper one around a knuckle, and my forearm is still sporting a bruise. A couple of other people who went down suffered some bruising and road rash. Not the way you want a race to go, but we are all thankful it wasn't much worse.

(Strava file)

Tupper Lake Tinman Sprint, June 29, 2013

I decided about a month ago to sign up for the sprint at the Tupper Lake Tinman. I've had some shin splint issues, but they seem to be improving, and I've been able to get more running done. Coming just a week after the big Spinervals Lake Placid training camp, I knew I'd have to make this past week an easier training week. Did two open water swims in Mirror Lake, one five mile run on the treadmill on a rainy morning, and one 18 mile ride on the tri bike during the week. I took a rest day on Friday, and really felt good all day, physically and mentally. For once, I felt confident about the swim, and didn't make myself practically psychotic worrying about it all day. Slept ok Friday night. I don't expect to get a good night's sleep the night before a race, but this night we were having sump pump issues because of all the rain we've had. My husband had to get up twice in the night to check the basement. On race morning, we were up at 4:30 and were on the road by 5:15 a.m. for Tupper Lake. It was cloudy and threatening rain, but pretty mild temperatures, around 60 degrees.
Tupper Lake is a little over an hour's drive away, through some really beautiful and remote country. We were there before 6:30, parked close, but then ended up having to walk a long way around the barriers to get through the race venue. Everywhere around the race venue was wet and muddy. I picked up my race packet, timing chip, and found my bike rack spot. (When I picked up my t-shirt, the woman asked me what size it said on my race bag. I told her, "small." She said, "Well, we have large and extra large. Which would you like?" Really? Why is it so hard to order enough of the size people choose when they register? Sorry for the rant, but I have many large-sized race shirts. It happens a lot.) Racked my bike, got my transition area set up, found my friend Sandy, did a quick warm-up run, and put my wetsuit on for a quick swim. We were told the water temperature was 72 degrees. It felt a bit cooler than that, but was perfect. Sandy and I went to stand in the sprint start carrel. There weren't many people there, which we should have noticed. Some guy came over and told us they decided to start us in the water, so we hustled down there. Someone was giving us instructions over the loudspeaker, when we suddenly heard someone near us say, "five seconds," and then the gun went off! I had one earplug out to hear the instructions--which were still going on!--so I quickly stuffed the plug in my ear and started swimming. Two minutes later, I realized that I never started my watch, damnit! I had a very good swim for me, just steady, sighted often. Had to adjust my course a couple of times, and I swim so slowly that I was with the breast- and sidestrokers. I kept thinking, "How can I be so slow that I can't lose these people?" I had to stay alert to not get kicked by the breaststroker, and a backstroker could not swim in a straight line, and kept swimming across my path. Both of those things slowed me down. In retrospect, I think I would risk a little sprint, and get out ahead of them early in the swim. I did the swim in 25:09, which is just about right for me for 6/10 mile. When I breathed and sighted, I could see the kayakers near me, so I was convinced I was last. When I got out of the water, I turned quickly and was shocked to see so many white caps of the sprinters still in the water! I ended up 73rd out of 96 on the swim. Lots of room for improvement, but I swam steadily and in control, so I was very happy.
When I got out of the water, I started my watch, then quickly hit the lap button to advance it to T1. It's kind of a long run to the bike racks. I did a quick, but not rushed, transition. It started raining on the swim, so I decided not to wear my sunglasses, thinking I wouldn't be able to see if the lenses were wet. We had to run our bikes over two timing mats, then run them across the road before we could mount. My T1 was 2:29, not too bad. I started to hammer immediately, just felt really good. Glad to be out of the water, glad to be on the bike, which is my strong leg, when I suddenly realized I never put air in my tires! I immediately reminded myself that I had pumped them up before my ride three days before (I know, I was grasping at straws), and since the roads were wet, it was better that I was running them a little low. Nothing I could do about it at that point, I just needed to not dwell on something I could not control at that moment. I felt a touch cool going out on the bike, but warmed up very quickly. The bike course was perfect for me; lots of long rollers at the beginning, then a nice climb partway up Mt. Arab before the turnaround. I passed everyone I came to, except two guys at about mile five. We played tag a little on the ups and downs, but then I passed them for good when the road went seriously up, and I never saw them again. It was an out and back course, so I could see that I would get a chance to recover on the mountain descent, and that there would be a good last descent back into town, so I really pushed the ride out. My HR dropped on the way back, just as I hoped. On the downhills on the way back, I was wishing I had worn my sunglasses, just to keep the rain from bouncing off my eyeballs (at least, that's the way it felt). The rain stopped right before I finished the bike. The course was 18.75 miles, and my time was 56:57. I averaged around 19.8 mph and had the 16th fastest bike time (link to data). That moved me up a bit in the standings! Did a quicker transition--1:28--and as I was headed out, the girl racked next to me was coming in on the bike. She said, "Hot damn, you're fast on the bike!" Gave me a nice mental boost to start the run. The first mile for the run was flat, but a lot of it was over wet, muddy grass. The second mile was uphill, mile three is a slight down, four and five were a more gradual climb, then the last 1.6 miles were down. I just tried to run as steady as I could. A couple of Team Placid Planet teammates, Billy Whitney and Darci LaFave, were at the race, and rode out along the bike course, cheering people on. I saw them three or four times, and it was just great to have that encouragement along the way. I did the run in 57:54, so I averaged 8:32 miles (data). That's a little slow for me for a 10K-ish run, but I don't have a lot of miles in and no speedwork, so I'm happy with it. I had the 31st fastest run, and finished 30th overall out of 96 (results). I was 2 out of 9 in my age group, and the 6th out of 43 women. I was just thrilled when I finished! I felt strong and in control the entire race. I drank almost a full bottle of Heed on the bike, had a gel and a small handheld bottle of Heed on the run. I also took water at every aid station, drinking about half and dumping the rest on my head. It just felt like everything had gone perfectly (other than the couple of things that didn't :)). If you've read this far, thank you for sticking with me. I wrote much of this to just record my thoughts for future races, and I'm just so excited this race went so well. My friend, Sandy, finished third in our age group, so we both got certificates at the awards. Sandy's daughter, Erin, did the half in preparation for Mont Tremblant next month. We stayed to see her finish. She broke five hours, 4:59:09, I believe, for 2nd place. Absolutely awesome race for her!

Spinervals Lake Placid Camp, 4th and Final Chapter

Before we went to dinner last night, Coach Troy gave us our itinerary for today. Meeting at 6:40 a.m. for a 7:00 swim. Back to the hotel to change and have breakfast, then in the lobby by 8:15 for an 8:30 run start time. I was up again at 5:30 a.m. I had my husband to do the breakfast run for me, so I started gathering some of my belongings to expedite check-out after the run. Coach had negotiated a noon check-out for us, instead of the hotel's 11:00 time. I had coffee, yogurt and a banana for breakfast. I pulled my wetsuit on up to my waist and joined my friends in the lobby. When I got to the lobby, I realized I'd left my Garmin 910XT watch in the room, so I hustled back to pick it up. I returned to the lobby just as the group was headed out the door, and I quickly slid in the end of the line like I'd been there all along, avoiding the dreaded iso squat punishment. We walked to the beach and finished getting ready to get in the water. I always wear my full wetsuit because I want every bit of buoyancy I can get, but I didn't bother with the neoprene booties. Two of our coaches, Ryan and Brian, wore Speedos for the swim. I admired their, um, bravery, and appreciated the extra incentive to get in the water :) Coach took the group shot on the beach this time, and as we waded in, we all commented on how cold the water felt. It WAS warmer than the first day, so I attribute this to how tired we all were. Our swim instructions were to, again, swim out 15 minutes, then return, but to swim farther than we did the other day. Not a problem for me, because I didn't get very far on that first swim. This time, I started swimming right away, no humming, no breathlessness. The water felt fantastic! I got on someone's feet, someone was on my feet, and we swam. Back at the hotel after, I inhaled a convenience store crumb cake thing that my husband had left in the room for me. I will say, dinners were great and mostly healthy, but the rest of my nutrition left a lot to be desired. There were refrigerators in the rooms; I should have taken the time the first night to buy some decent food to have on hand. Changed into running clothes and back to the lobby for the run. Troy had advised that we carry fluids. Dan and Dave would be on the course with the sag wagon, but it was forecast to be a hot and muggy day. I brought my handheld bottle that holds about 8 ounces of water. Coach talked strategy for the run. Since we'd all be running at our own pace, this would be the last time I'd see some of my fellow campers. My thought was to run around 9:30 miles. That seemed reasonable after two hard days of riding. And as Coach Troy reminded us, this was training camp, not a race. Too bad I didn't stick with that plan. We all started out fast. It's an easy thing to do on that course, because the first two miles are downhill. I ran 8:35 miles for the first three. I was mostly running alone. The fasties went out hard, a few others were behind them. Jerre went out strong. Christina and Mike were just in front of me, and I used them to pace me for about 10 miles of the run. Miles 4 and 5 were 8:57 and 8:59, and mile 6 was 9:15. I had drained my water bottle by the turn-around on River Road. It was getting hot, so I guzzled about a cup of Gatorade and refilled my bottle with water. Miles 7 and 8 were exactly 9:00 miles, then the slow-down hit. A 9:24 and 9:51 and I was at the sag wagon refilling my bottle again. This time I grabbed a cup of water and doused myself. I perked up a bit, and had a 9:27 mile up the shorter hill after the bridge, past the horse show grounds and towards town. Then came the dreaded in-your-face hill back into town. I had run with Lola a while going into town, but she dropped me on that hill. I refused to walk, and just did what Coach had advised--kept moving forward and had my slowest mile at 10:55. I had the out-and-back left to make it a complete 13.1, and despite the temptation to skip it, I eased my pace and just ran it easy. Finished in 2:02 running time--happy and sorry it was over, at the same time. Back at the hotel, we were waist deep in the lake once again, comparing notes and congratulating each other on a job well done.
It was a transformative weekend for me. I started out feeling like I didn't belong there, and I left knowing that I did, that I could do things I never thought possible before this weekend. I made some good friends--people I will be supporting when I volunteer at IMLP in a few weeks, and people who are now real to me when we're "talking" in our Spinervals group on Facebook: Jerre and Christina, Merle, Lola, Christian and Leigh Ann, David, Ginny, Alan, Rob, Charlie, George, Mary, Chrissy, Raquel, and Mark. Thank you to Coach Troy, Dan and Dave, and Ryan and Brian for putting on such a great camp. I highly recommend it to anyone doing IMLP, or anyone who wants to experience a fun and challenging weekend in one of the most beautiful places on earth. (Stats for the three days: Swim-1.4 miles, Bike-168 miles, Run-18.3 miles)

Spinervals Lake Placid Camp, Chapter 3

Saturday, June 22, 2013: Coach Troy told us at the meeting last night that he was moving up our start time for the 112 mile ride today, from 8:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. It was looking like some rain may be moving in later in the day, other camps were there and he wanted to get us out before them, and an earlier start would mean an earlier finish. At last night's meeting, Troy also told us that the reason he had us do the reverse loop of the course first, is so we can see how hard the course could be. If we could survive that seven-mile climb yesterday, today would seem easy. Ri-i-i-ight! I slept a little better, got up at 5:30, but this time drove to the Stewarts for my breakfast. I felt a little guilty about that, but it seemed prudent to not tax my legs anymore than I needed to. I had rinsed my jersey out in the sink after yesterday's ride, and basically wore the same thing as yesterday: Spinervals jersey, (fresh!) tri shorts, and sun sleeves. I got a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich and a coffee for breakfast. I mixed my liquids--carried three bottles today versus two yesterday. I threw a bunch of gels in my bento bag, along with a protein bar and some leftover Chomps. We all met in front of the hotel at 6:40, and started out at 7:00 a.m. Troy led us out again, taking us up past the Olympic Center to show our IMLP campers where the transition area and the bike start would be. He controlled the pace for the first 10 miles or so. Our instructions today were to ride easy to the top of Keene hill, descend at our own pace, and regroup at the bottom. From there, we would ride the rest of the day at our own pace, but were encouraged to find a group or a partner to ride with, looking for Dan and Dave with fluids and cookies along the way. I took a look at the make-up of the A group, and proposed to Jerre that we look for each other when we got dropped by them, and ride together. We hung with the A's until somewhere around Upper Jay. They were setting a hard pace, so we eased up and rode just off the back to Ausable Forks and back to Jay. After a quick stop for fluids and cookies, we started the climb up 86. That is a deceptive little climb. The first part is pretty steep and can catch you by surprise if you're not ready for it. When Troy rode by us, Jerre wondered how we'd feel at this point on the next loop. I shared a quote from a friend who has raced Lake Placid several times, "No matter how good or how bad you feel, it won't last." We did the out and back on Haselton Road, and started the climb up the Notch. There was a good headwind, which is typical, so I proposed to Jerre that we take two minute pulls and tempo our way up. One other camper was with us, I don't remember who it was now. Anyway, every little rise we came to, he'd ask, "Is this Mama Bear?" And I'd say, "No, Mama Bear is almost at the end." He clearly was hoping we were at the end with every hill! We dropped him at some point, and Jerre and I crested Papa Bear to see the A group with the sag wagon at the Cobble Hill Inn. Coach Troy yelled to us, "Good job! Hop on with this group!", which we did. We rode into town and the group went back up and around the Olympic Center. I left it up to Jerre whether he wanted to do that, or make a left turn at the end of Mirror Lake Drive and start the second loop. He chose option B. This put us ahead of the A group for a short time, but they soon caught us before the descent. Jerre was having a difficult time with his liquids. Troy had talked about mixing electrolytes heavier than the directions say, to prevent cramping. Jerre took it to heart, and quadrupled his mix. He hadn't been able to stomach it for much of the first loop, and had drained all of his other liquids. I had a bottle of plain water that I hadn't touched yet, so we stopped and I was helping him cut his mix, when Dan and Dave pulled up. Perfect timing! We started our descent, but I noticed a troubling development; my butt was really feeling uncomfortable. I tried to ignore it, but I was starting to look at the mileage left and wondering how I was going to survive. I had left a pot of chamois cream in the sag wagon, and I was applying gobs at every stop. We had a uneventful ride on 9N to Ausable Forks. On the way back, storm clouds were threatening and the wind came up, giving us a glorious tailwind. We hit the climb up 86, while all the while I was silently praying the east wind would continue on our climb up the Notch. Haselton out and back once again, and up the Notch we went. And, thank you cycling gods, we had the tailwind! We felt a few drops, and Jerre and I were both commenting how good a cloudburst would feel at that point. We had about 10 miles to go, and Jerre and I got very quiet. We had reached the "death march" phase of the ride. No two minute pulls on this trip; Jerre pulled on the flats and downs, and I paced us up the hills. Now, my right big toe was also killing me. I had lost the nail from running earlier in the year, and it was still sensitive. Standing out of the saddle relieved my butt, but hurt my toe. Sitting made my toe feel better, but killed my butt. I couldn't win. I made some comment to this effect, and Jerre said, "Oh, I'm so glad you said that! I'm dying, and I thought it was just me!" He had developed a hotspot on his foot and was in agony. We both just got into this rhythm and pushed as hard as we could, knowing the sooner we finished, the sooner the pain would end. We passed several riders (not from our camp) as we climbed, but we were pushing so hard, not one jumped on our wheels. We had some rain in the last few miles, and it felt exquisite. Finally, the Three Bears and over Northwoods hill, and we had made it! I had timed our loops: We did the first loop in 3:12 (riding time), just two minutes slower than yesterday, and the second loop in 3:22. But even better, when I got home and uploaded my data, I discovered that we had ridden the 12 mile segment up the Notch faster on the second loop! That tailwind made a difference (ride data here). We had an optional run off the bike today. I opted to skip it and save my shin for the half-marathon run tomorrow. Jerre headed out to do the run (he's doing IMLP), and I waded into the lake for my now ritual leg soaking. One of the coaches, Ryan was already in the water, so he came over to join me. Within a few minutes, Jerre, Christina, Merle and Lola, and a few others had all joined us, and we stood there in the water up to our waists, debriefing the ride. I wonder what the other hotel guests thought of us?

We had a 5:00 meeting after the ride, so I eventually made my way back to my room for a shower, food and rest until the meeting. My husband called and said the rain had interrupted his work for the day, so he was coming up to Lake Placid to eat at a friend's restaurant. I left a key card at the front desk for him, and went to the meeting. After the meeting, we had a group dinner at Northwoods Inn. The food was very good, and we had some great conversation, sharing training and racing and life stories. We traded contact information, just in case we forgot to do it the next day, and headed back to the hotel. We were happy to have two hard days of riding behind us. We were enjoying our shared suffering and conquest of the hardships, but we knew we had another tough day--a 13.1 mile run--ahead of us. (On a side note, back in my room, I glanced at my bike and noticed something odd; the nose of my saddle was angled up at least a half inch, instead of being level. No wonder my butt hurt! I think it rocked back on one of those hard bumps on 73). (Another side note: while resting in my room, I wrote down my calories and fluids for the day--3 bottles of electrolyte mix, 2 bottles of water, 3 GU gels, 4 GU Chomps, 1 Protein bar, 6 Endurolytes and probably a dozen fig newtons.)

Spinervals Lake Placid Camp, Chapter 2

Friday, June 21st: I slept just ok. Strange place, room was warm, even though I turned on the air, or maybe it was just me. Got up at 5:30, threw on a sweatshirt, and walked to the Stewart's convenience store just down the street. I've been to that particular store many times. I knew they'd be open and that the coffee would be fresh and hot. Also picked up a yogurt and a muffin. It was a bit chilly, but not overly so, very quiet on the street. Nice way to clear my head before the swim. I had the coffee and yogurt back in my room and got into my wetsuit. I messaged my friend, Mary, to tell her about the meeting time and to warn her about the iso squats :) Mary had also signed up for the camp, but other commitments came up, so she was only attending Friday. We all met in the lobby at 6:40 a.m., and walked down to the beach. The air temp was probably in the high 50s, buzz among the campers was that the water temp was 67 degrees. I think that was a touch generous. Coach talked to us a bit as we got ready to get in the water (I wore my full-sleeved wetsuit and neoprene booties). We swam out to the beginning of the lovely cable that goes along the swim course just four or five feet below the surface of the water, punctuated every 20 yards or so by buoys on the surface. Coach Troy asked us to swim for 15 minutes, then turn around and come back. He talked some more as we tread water, then took a photo. I look a little grim in the picture, I was starting to feel chilled and wanted to get moving! I am not a fast swimmer by any stretch, though I am a more confident swimmer than I used to be. I've only been swimming about five years, and though I've worked hard at improving, I know I'll be at the back of any swimming pack I'm in. Since this was my first open water swim since last August, my goal was to swim relaxed and in control, and not worry about anything else. It was a little hard to get my face in the water and get started, the chilly water took my breath away. I tried humming as I exhaled underwater--a little trick I'd learned from a friend to help me exhale completely. I quickly got into a rhythm and away I went. I checked my watch a couple of times, turned around after 15 minutes, and almost immediately, my calves started to cramp. The water was cold, and I was starting to feel chilled. I kicked very carefully back to the start, got out of the water, and silently congratulated myself on surviving. All the campers were in high spirits after the swim. We were all very chatty on the walk back to the hotel. So maybe I wasn't the only one who was happy to have our first workout done, or maybe the chilly water woke us up. Coach instructed us to grab something to eat, and to be back out in front of the hotel by 8:40 to start the ride.

I invited Mary to come back to my room to change. I wolfed down the muffin, got my cycling gear on, and prepared my nutrition and fluids. I had GU Electrolyte Brew and Hammer Heed powder to mix into my bottles. I also brought GU Chomps and Roctane Gels. Troy told us that Dan and Dave would be at certain places along the course with water, cookies and Gatorade/Powerade (I don't remember which, because I don't drink either). We brought our bikes out, and prepared to ride. I wore my Spinervals jersey, tri shorts, and sun sleeves. It was chilly, but I knew it would warm up. Troy had on a couple of layers, and some lobster-claw mitts tucked into his back pockets. Some people (not me!) were smirking over the gloves, which Coach didn't wear, leaving his reputation intact ;) We were riding one loop of the reverse of the Ironman bike, which meant we'd be climbing Keene hill--7 miles and 1350' of ascent--near the end of the ride. Coach Troy said he'd be controlling the pace on the downhill through the Notch, that we'd be stopping and regrouping at certain points along the course, and that everyone would do the climb at their own pace. Since we'd all be finishing at different times, we were to do our brick run whenever we finished the ride--one or two loops around Mirror Lake. We set off around 9:00, and it was an awesome ride! The bike is my thing, so I was feeling very comfortable, and feeling that maybe I did belong at this camp. I rode close to Troy's wheel through the Notch and near the front of the group down 86 to route 9N. We did the out and back on Haselton Road--one of my favorite roads in the entire North Country. I think it's a shame the entire road is no longer a part of the bike course. Coach Troy had strongly advised us not to hammer this ride, to save our legs for the 112 miles the next day. At some point, either in Wilmington or Upper Jay, I shed the sun sleeves. We split up into groups after Wilmington, I think, though we all regrouped at certain points before continuing. I hung with the A group until the return leg of the out-and-back to Ausable Forks. They started to push the pace as they neared Upper Jay again; that's a bit of an uphill section. I debated pushing to hang on, and decided to ease off and save my legs. I was going to get dropped, that was inevitable, so it didn't make sense to kill myself. And, the group would stop to regroup at the sag wagon stops, so I was able to start with them after each stop. We finally reached Keene, and started the climb. I like climbing. I live on the top of a hill that's a category 3 climb on one approach, and a 4 on another. I'm small and light, so I have an advantage. I felt good, got into a rhythm, and just tempo-ed up the hill. There was a traffic light about half-way up, routing traffic into one lane for construction. Jerre caught me before the light; our timing was bad and we caught the red and had to wait about 10 minutes before continuing. A couple of others caught up to us before the light changed. Turned out to be just the recovery I needed. We were still climbing after the light, and I took off feeling strong. After a minute or two, I turned to say something to the guys, and nobody was there. One of the guys caught and passed me near the top. I was feeling really good, and just decided to hammer the last few miles. The road is in rough shape, and my bottle with the Speedfil top jettisoned off into the trees on one particularly bad bump. I never could get that bottle system set up right, so, good riddance. Rode to the hotel, brought my bike up to my room and threw on my running shoes, and ran two loops--about 5 miles--around the lake. When I finished, I went down to the beach and waded into the lake up to my waist for a little ice bath. I highly recommend this! Back to the room to shower, and ate every bit of food in my room that I could find. I then went up to Placid Planet for a new hydration system. I got the XLab Super Wing and two Gorilla XT cages for behind the seat. I left the bike with Dan to install it for the next morning, and went to the nightly lecture. Afterwards, almost all of us went to dinner at the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery. It was great visiting with Ginny, Dan, Jerre and Christina down at my end of the table. We were a loud and raucous bunch. I was very happy with how my day went, and no longer feeling over my head. Coach Troy changed the ride start for the 112 miles to 7:00 a.m., so I went straight back to the hotel and to bed after dinner. Good day! My stats for the day: Swam 1130 yards in 32 min, biked 56 miles in 3:10 and ran 5.2 miles in 48 minutes.