Since Thanksgiving dinner was set to start at 1:00pm and I was bringing half the food, I figured I would do an early run close to home so I could get to cooking early–so, the RR Turkey Trot! 3.3 miles at Old Settler’s Park.
Since 3.3 miles hardly seems like much of a work out, barely enough to work off for the first slice of pumpkin pie…
I decided to up the challenge by bringing Elwood. As many of you know, Elwood is my dog. And as many of you know, Elwood doesn’t run. Like, not at all. He barely walks. I assumed there must be something wrong with him and brought him to the vet where he was diagnosed with “Some Dogs Don’t Run.” Since he was supposed to be my running partner, I bought a large dog stroller so we could run together. Thus, I would be running the 3.3 miler with Elwood in his stroller.
The weather was glorious. Warmer than expected at 50 degrees and dry. I threw on shorts and a t-shirt (and a jacket to wear before the race).
We got there a bit early. I picked up my bib number “2000”! and I took Elwood for a short walk around the park, then set him up in his stroller.
This race was family friendly and untimed, so I knew there would be a bunch of folks who probably didn’t know how to seed for a race start, but there were also just a metric ton of folks there. I tried to find a place to start where I wouldn’t run over anyone’s heels (Elwood is 57 lbs and his stroller is pretty big), and assumed we would be starting pretty slow in the crowd.
As we were waiting to start I looked to my right and saw a woman with a stroller. Then I realized she was pushing a cat! His runner told me that he loved to be outside.
This was gonna be the most ridiculous race ever! But there was no way I could let that cat win.
The race started and it was a slow start with all these folks funneling through the starting line inflatable arch. When we were finally able to start running we were at about a 10:30 min/mile but after about a half mile runners started to spread out and we… (we? ha! I) was able to pick up the pace a bit. We weaved through several runner and Elwood got quite a bit of attention–one runner ran besides me asking about the stroller since she had a large older dog who couldn’t run anymore. The little kids were particularly amused by me pushing this big dog with his ears flapping in the breeze.
As we ran I could hear wheels right behind me. There were a ton of strollers so I wasn’t sure who or what is was, but I was at a good pace and just stayed the course.
I had my tiny smart speaker on the stroller playing upbeat music, and as I ran next to two teenaged girls we all started singing “Uptown Funk.” There was a gal in a fuzzy turkey costume and I asked her how the weather was treating her. She commented that she was dying!
The course was a dog-leg with a loop. We would run out Harrell Pkwy to Aten Loop to Old Settlers back to Harrell, where we would run back towards the finish line…then pass the finish line, run another 1/2 mile over the bridge, make a U-turn and run back to the finish line.
As I was running along Old Settlers at about mile 1.75, I was coming up on a gal pushing a double stroller (of human children). As I was about to pass her, I said “Elwood, we caught her!” When she saw my stroller she started laughing and pointed out the dog to her kids. After I passed her I heard her tell her kids about the cat in the stroller. OMG, the cat stroller was Right. Behind. Me!
I heard the familiar sound of her wheels and realized she’d been right on my heels the whole time! Prolly pacing off me. I kicked it into high gear.
At about mile 2 and a half we hit the new bridge (by the by, they have totally redone the Lakeview Pavilion at Old Settler’s Park and it is really nice. New bridge, new hike and bike sidewalks, new stage!)
Oh, but about that new bridge, it is a giant hill. Cat stroller took this opportunity to blow by me while pushing 8 lbs of cat to my almost 60 lbs of dog. Dammit!
I yelled, “Elwood, catch that cat!” while huffing up the hill. I just needed to get to the top then I could recover while being dragged by 57 lbs of dog down the hill.
At about mile 2.75 I saw a fella walking. Well, he had been in front of me the whole race so far, so I told him, “Hey, only a half mile left. You got this.” He picked up the pace.
Just as we started down the hill we overtook the cat! There’s no stopping us now (well, almost nothing)!
I continued to push to the turn around…which was the one crappy part of the course. It was not finished and had a bunch of uneven unconnected rubber matts covering the dirt and grass, so I practically had to come to a stop while making the U-turn with the heavy stroller, but I was able to quickly recover and raced the last 1/4 miler to the finish line…triumphing over the cat lady!
Elwood and I got a shout out my the emcee as we crossed the finish line and Elwood took his finishers medal.
After the race, I put Elwood’s stroller up, then headed back to the finish line to see what’all was going on and ran into the cat lady. We joked about our big competition and she confessed that she thought that the turn around was at the finish line and did not realize she had to run 1/2 mile passed it, and was not going to let the dog win, so she started her finish line sprint…way too early, then could not recover.
So overall a really fun, low stress run. And not a horrible pace considering I was pushing Elwood.
Several months ago I signed up for the Kerrville Half Iron Distance (70.3) Triathlon. Pre-Covid (remember life before Covid? [sigh]) there were so many races in the Central Texas area that I could, and often would, race every other week. Fun sprint with friends, Olympic distance if offered, then every 6-8 weeks a half iron distance because, why the hell not? Then Covid shut everything down; not just races, but training and group workouts. By the time “everything” was up and running again a lot of races and trainers just didn’t come back. Some of us had new challenging jobs, and new challenging dogs who do not run, and it was hard to get back into the old groove. Thing is, when you are racing every other weekend and have a set workout schedule, you don’t need to train, because you are always training and trained. Not so much after two years with few races, and I sure found out on Sunday.
So yeah, I signed up for my 9th Kerrville Half Iron (which consists of a 1.2mi swim/56 mile bike/13.1 mile run) and went about my usual training which no longer includes an organized run training group, or race specific bike workout, bike to run workouts, or swimming (ok, I never really ever swam that much, but I could make up for it in the other sports), so actually not my usual training at all. I signed up for two races, the Marble Falls Tri which is half way between a sprint distance and an olympic and the Olympic Pflugerville Tri. I did both races and did ok. Neither my bike nor run were where they were in 2019, and my swim has always been pretty terrible, but I did alright.
I still ran every other day before work about 6-7 miles and would do spin non-class on the gym spin bikes because spinning on a bike at home actually sucks more than spinning on a bike at the gym by yourself (since the morning spin classes are another thing that didn’t come back). I even joined another gym since my old gym never reopened its pools, so I could swim once a week. I knew this race would not be my fastest, and decided to treat it like a training race. What more would I need to be prepared for a Half Iron (as every coach I know collectively winces)?
I drove out to Kerrville on Friday night after work so I could cheer on the folks doing the super-sprint (300m/14 mi/3 mi) and sprint (500m/14 mi/ 2 mi) races early Saturday morning. I decided to check out the run course for my race (which is two x a 6.55 mile route on a very nice paved hike and bike trail) to get some landmarks and a lay of the land, but in order to be back to cheer on the racers I ran 7 miles at 6:00am. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything so I didn’t get any landmarks or a lay of the land, but there were a lot of deer (who look a lot like wolves when all you can see is their eyes in the dark) and it was cool outside,so it was a nice run.
Got back to my rented cabin, made a pot of coffee, then sat on the tailgate of my truck in the driveway and cheered on the cyclists as they rode past (my cabin is right on the run course). My friend Annette had come over to cheer with me and, Barb, the gal who owns the cabin, was cheering, as well. Afterwards, Annette and I walked down to the finish line which is surprisingly close to my cabin — less than a mile away (the trail that the run is on is right behind my cabin). We cheered our friends and other strangers as they completed the run, while socializing, and occasionally drinking some water. I could not help but notice that it was pretty hot in the afternoon. This meant my run would be pretty hot and probably not very fast. But that was ok since I would not be racing this race, so I would just have to slow my run pace appropriately.
At about noon I walked back to the cabin and made some lunch, then headed over to the race Expo to pick up my race packet (containing race numbers for the bike, a number bib for the run, swim cap, transition bags and various swag). Then it was time to rack my bike in the transition area so it would be ready for me in the morning.
This race has two transition areas. Transition is where you leave your stuff while you are out racing. Since a triathlon always starts with the swim the first transition area – T1- is near the water. That’s where you leave the stuff you will need for the bike ride while you are swimming. So, your bike, bike shoes, water bottles, helmet, sunglasses etc. When you are done swimming you go to your bike and put on all your gear. You take your swim stuff — goggles, swim cap wetsuit, — and put it in a transition bag with your race number on it and leave it there. Elves will pick up those bags and bring them to the end of the race for you. Not to get too far ahead of my self, but T2 is where you leave your run stuff, so when you finish the bike course, you are able to leave your bike in a designated area and get your running shoes, hat, bib then go run. T2 is also where the race ends, so all your stuff is magically in one place when you are sweaty and exhausted and just want to go home. In races with only one transition area, all of your stuff is in one place that you keep coming back to after each sport and is also close to the finish line.
I put my race number stickers on my bike and helmet, racked my bike, then got in my car to head back to the cabin to set up my T2 transition bag (put everything I will need for run in the bag so I put it in my T2 bike rack area). Just as I started on the road, I heard a loud pop that sounded like maybe a car going on the other direction hit my door with a rock. I instinctively started to roll down my driver’s side window to assess the damage when the whole window just fell into the door, never to be seen again (at least never to be seen again that weekend). Well, crap. OK, nothing I can do about that right now but all I could think of was how many mosquitos would be in the truck in the morning and driving home 2 1/2 hours with the driver’s window wide open in the heat with the road noise Good times!
I got back to my cabin and set up my transition bags. Annette came back by and was walked the ~1 mile to T2 to tie our bags at our numbered rack (the rack is a bike rack where you put your bike when you are done riding and your run bag is there waiting for you – like so).
T2 racks
Then we walked back to my cabin where I would relax for the rest of the evening. I decided to drive to HEB and get one of those fresh single-serve dinners, then I decided to stop by Walmart just to see if they had anything I could “fix” my truck window with to get me around town and home after the race. I found a large cheap poster frame with flimsy plastic “glass,” duct tape and a scissor. When I got back to the cabin I was able to fashion a temporary window and duct tape it in place. Truth be total, some 30 years ago I had to “fix” the window of my ’73 Duster (which had been stolen and recovered but damaged – long story) for the drive from Boston, MA to Long Island, NY in January with only random stuff in my dorm room so I had an idea of what would work.
Just like new
Now I could eat some dinner, sit back, relax and prepare for my big race. Finally. Now you might be thinking, “Wow seven mile run and walking to the finish area and back at about ~2 miles twice? That seems like a lot of running around the day before a big race. Is that wise?” Perhaps not.
I went to bed at 9:00pm and since I did not sleep well on Friday night I thought I would surely sleep like a rock. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Not only could I not sleep, but I was nauseated- like not sure if I was gonna throw up or not – and I had no idea why. As I watched 9:00 to 10:00 to 11:45 and 1:00, I determined that if I started throwing up or simply overslept my alarm in the morning that would be ok, because at this point I really felt like poo and suspected that I wouldn’t be able to race anyway. But eventually I fell asleep and when my alarm went off at 5:30am I felt pretty alright.
I got dressed, grabbed my bike bag, made a PB & J sandwich and cup of tea, and managed to eat half the sandwich before heading to T1. Having determined this would be treated as a training race, I was in a pretty good mindset, I checked my bike (air in tires, in a good starting gear, everything where it should be), socialized with all my Tri peeps, ate another 1/4 of the sandwich, and went to the port-o-john three times – just to be sure.
Logan, the race emcee for Big Mouth Announcing, let us know that he water was over 80 degrees so it would not be “wet-suit legal” (“legal” meaning that if you wear a wet-suit you are not eligible for age group awards, or USAT sanctioned credit (to qualify for other races), but I think you will still get an unofficial time). A lot of mediocre swimmers – like me – swim much better in a buoyant wet-suit so I always hope for a wet-suit legal water temperature, but wet-suits are actually designed not to make you a better swimmer, but to keep you warm when the water is cold. Who knew? And at a certain point you really can overheat in a wet-suit if the water is warm. USAT has determined that 78 degrees is the cut off for wearing a wet-suit in a triathlon. This news was not great for my swim, but that’s ok. I knew I could do the 1.2 mile distance, it would just be slower.
At 7:30am my race started. I jumped in the water and it was surprisingly not nearly as warm as I thought it would be. It was kinda refreshing, in fact. I dialed a good song into my head (Dua Lipa it is) so I could get into my swim rhythm, and off I went. It wasn’t horrible, the water was cloudy (not stinky, not a weird color, no hydrilla or grass), but … what the hell is in my mouth? Ya know, it’s probably a piece of crunchy peanut butter peanut that got caught in a molar. I spit it into the water and continued on… Wait, what the hell is in my mouth now? How much peanut butter is still stuck in my teeth? Spit again. Periodically, I would spit out the never ending supply of peanut pieces that apparently were caught in allmy teeth (???). Later, I found out that there were some sort of bugs in the water by a friend who asked “Did you get any of those black bugs in your mouth during the swim.” Eww, eww, eww! 🤢
The Kerrville swim always feel so long to me because it is a big rectangle with one side that is a 1/2 mile long, and half of the swim is against the current, but eventually I was out of the water. I didn’t even look at my watch, but headed up the big hill to T1 where my bike awaited.
1.2 mile swim = 51:35 (eh, not good)
I got my socks, bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses on, and jumped on my bike. I got into comfortable rhythm. I love being on the bike and I knew that there were challenging hills on the course but I happen to love hills on the bike. I was very familiar with the course as I had done the Kerrville Half 8x before and the Quarter Iron once (which is the same bike course but you only do it once for the Quarter, twice for the Half). I felt good heading out, but did notice I was getting passed by several other cyclists. When I am trained this does not happen, and if someone does pass me it pissed me off and I step up my game. But not this time. Knowing my training was lacking I was not going to get into a race with someone faster than me and blow myself up – this is a training race. Also, I refused to look at my watch because all that would do is stress me out.
However, a LOT of folks were passing me.
I rode out the 15ish on Hwy 27, then made the turn onto the bumpy ship-sealed road to Center Point, down the low water crossing and up the first big hill. I made sure I was drinking enough water and periodically took in some Gatorade, but neither of my bottles was empty at the 17ish mile water stop so I rode passed it. I continued through Center Point and the little out and back dog leg onto a side street that they added to make the course exactly 56 miles.
I continued to ride, felt pretty good, drank a bit, maybe a little hungry. Actually, I was hungry. Like, not a little hungry, but “could eat a burger” hungry. Being that hungry this early in the race, while less than half-way through the bike, is not a good sign. I wasn’t as worried about the next hour and a half on the bike, so much as I was worried about the two hour run still ahead. I started eating gels and drank more Gatorade, but while all that sugar is good for quick energy but no one is getting full on energy gels. I kept an eye out for a fast food joint.
Two fellas passed me right before what I call the “hidden hill”. As they rode passed I said, “You know about the hill ahead?” “What?” One asked. “Yeah,” I said, “You’re gonna go a little right then to the left and BOOM big unexpected hill. Be in a good gear!” I clicked into my smaller crank ring gear, veered to the left when I heard one of the guys say, “OMG! What the heck! Thank goodness I’m in a good gear” I’m all “Yeah, this is why I warned you.” as I passed him on the hill.
The hills on this course are pretty much all preceded by a low water crossing. Just from living on this planet you know if you go over a low water crossing it is a low point between two inclines. But for some reason there is this random hill with a 7% graded on the course that is not preceding by any type of downhill, no low water crossing, it doesn’t have any structures or houses on it that you can see “on the hill” so there is no warning that you are going to need to be in your hamster-wheel-spinning-granny-gear until you are already committed. When you are standing on your pedals on a hill, it is too late to shift. I often see folks “locking out” (where they have to get off their bikes or they will lose all momentum, stop and fall over), then walking up this stupid hill in awkward cycling shoes. Because I am a good person, I will always warn the folks around me at the surprise hill (also, you don’t want folks falling over in front of you when you are going up the hill, so … self-preservation).
After the hidden hill, there is only 6 miles left of the route – a nice downhill, then a gradual uphill. I felt alright on the hills and didn’t try to think about how hungry I was. Once you ride through this little hilly section you approach the T2 area where the run starts and the finish line is, but I still had one more 28 mile loop on the bike before I could head to the run.
I turned left, and rode through a section that was lined with spectators on each side, over the bridge, through the downtown area, then back to the long 15 mile flat stretch on Hwy 27. This second loop can be fun because you get to see folks who are doing the shorter Quarter Iron distance race and the Quarter Aqua/Bike -a duathlon of just the swim/bike- which started much later than the Half Iron.
I rode past the water stop, but still didn’t need anything because I clearly wasn’t drinking enough. I tried to remember to drink some more water and Gatorade. I was holding a pretty steady pace, not particularly fast, but steady. Remember this is a training race (even though I was not, and had not been training for anything all season). I saw my friend Jane and got to say “hi!”right before the big hill after the low water crossing. Got over the hill, down the way, through the dog-leg… Rode up the hidden hill with a gal who was “paperboying” her way up (paperboying is where you zig-zag ride up a hill the way a paperboy delivers papers … a paperboy was a job that pre-teen boys would often have delivering newspapers in the morning in the neighborhood back when people would have the newspaper delivered… a newspaper used be a hard copy of CNN — anyway the hill ends up being twice as long but not nearly as steep. Of course this makes the guy behind them (me) have to either slow down or try to get around them without being run over.
(Pix for illustration purposes only) This guy (red circle) is paperboying, also getting his ass handed to him buy a guy on a unicycle
It was starting to get a bit warmer, but after the hidden hill it wasn’t far to the end of the bike. It was going to be a hot run.
I got off the bike in 3:06.33 at 18 miles per hour, which was, well, a good training pace.
As I changed out of my cycling gear and into my running gear, I came to the realization that this run was really going to suck- there was full sun, very little wind, and it was already pretty hot. Also, I never did find a fast food place to grab a burger.
I ran out onto the run course moving much, much slower than I had anticipated. I already felt hot and I still had 13.1 miles of running ahead of me. The run course is a 2.75 mile out, turn around then 2.75 miles back past the finish line, then another .5 miles in the other direction, turn around, come back .5 miles, pass the finish line again them repeat.
I ran about 3/4 mile when I determined that this would be a good place to start walking. I tried to start running again and realized that I was not going to be able to run the run. Walking 13.1 miles even at decent pace would take over three hours. I determined that I did not want to be on that run course for over three hours. During the first 2.75 miles, I would run to a landmark up ahead, – maybe a tree, a sign or a park bench – then walk until I was no longer having a heart attack, pick another landmark and try to run to it, walk again, while in my head I was trying to figure out the best place to quit. You can’t really quit out in the middle of the course (although the idea of faking an injury so I could be driven back in no a golf cart did cross my mind), but I could quit when I got back to the finish area or I could do the 1/2 mile out and back on the other side of the finish line and then quit. Thinking about the most efficient way of quitting was a nice distraction.
I got to the 2.75 mile turn around and they had bananas and oranges — food! I mean, not a burger, but still. I had a banana and a few pieces of orange with some ice water. Surprisingly, I did not feel any better. 😒
The sun was out, there was no breeze, my run with walk breaks turned into a walk with run breaks. I made my way back to the finish area trying to figure out if I could have one of my friends who was spectating to maybe get me a taco when I passed through the area. As I got back to the finish area I ran into my friend Karen. She asked how I was doing and I told her “not good.” That I did not think I was going to finish. She recommended that I do the short 1/2 mile out and back turn around and when I got back to her we could re-evaluate the situation. OK, I could do that.
I passed the finish shoot. I could easily have turned and turned in my timing chip and gone and had a beer and a taco, but one of my friends was taking pictures so I ran past the finish shoot because I could walk this whole dang race, but I didn’t want any pictures of me walking. I headed out to the “short-side turn around” – I would just like to note that had I not turned-around, I was only .3 miles from the cabin where I was staying and could have just “gone home.” Tempting.
I walked most of the way but ran passed every race photographer because again, those pictures. Finally got back by the finish shoot to see Karen, but I ran into Christine first. She asked how I was doing and I told her that I was thinking of quitting.
“You can’t quit!!”
“Yeah, I probably could.”
“You would never forgive yourself!!”
“No, I think I would.”
Christine says, “Just get back out to the turn-around and see how you feel.”
The last turn-around is 2.75 miles from the finish. And “see how I feel?” Like maybe I’ll feel like calling an Uber, since once you get that far into the course you are kind of committed to finishing since, well, all your stuff is at the finish area. Christine gave me a shove in the right direction and I remember thinking. Wow, I guess I am really gonna do this.
At this point there was very little running going on and not just for me. So many racers were walking. I knew from my first loop that there was no timing mat at the turn-around. Ya know, I could just cut the course… but then there is Karen on her rainbow bike wearing her helmet with the 3″ orange Mohawk (I kid you not), shouting encouragement. The just a few minutes later Alan runs past me (yes, he was actually running). I continued on.
Because folks were periodically walking then running and stopping at rest stops for a few seconds or a few minutes, I kept passing/being passed by the same people. They would pass me I would pass them. We would exchange pleasantries, encouragement or sarcastic comments. At one point it started raining. I mean, the sun was still beating down but I started running to try to hit more raindrops (I think there were only about 7 of them), then a minute later it stopped raining. New strategy, when a cloud would move in front of the sun I would run until it moved on and the sun was blasting down again.
There was a fella with his three young sons cheering the racers on out where there were no other spectators. They were out there all afternoon and so spirited. I thanked them for staying out there and being so great each time I passed them (and I passed them four times- out and back and out and back).
Eventually, I made my way back to the finish area where all the spectators were. I only had to go out 1/2 mile, then come back. I ran through the finish area, then walked towards the turn-around. I caught up with a gal with whom I had been leapfrogging for most of the run. I told her, “Ok, when I get to the turn-around there is exactly 1/2 mile to the finish- I clocked it the day before. I’m going to run it in because I can do anything for 5 minutes.” She was nursing an injury and told me to have a great time but she would not be running in.
I did run the last 1/2 mile to the finish line. DONE!
Run ♾️.
Actually, 3:08.37.
Total time 7:14:23 (so only an hour and 15 minutes over my average Half Iron pace- eek!).
After the race, I did finally get a taco. I was eating near a woman and her husband. I recognized her from the run course and asked her how she was feeling. As we were talking her three young sons came running over. Her family was the spectators that spent so much time on the run course 💗💗! I thanked them again.
This event has really opened my eyes to the fact that I need to get back to triathlon specific training. Just going out for rides and runs for however long when I feel like it is not working for me. I’ll take a week to recover, but I need to find a trainer and get serious.
Like many, I assumed that after everything was cancelled in 2020, 2021 would be a new year full of racing… but then almost everything got cancelled in 2021 again. While I did a few races early in the season, come the heat of the summer my motivation dried up like a snail on a Texas sidewalk. My gym closed all the pools (boooo Gold’s), my run went to total poo, and riding my bike felt like a chore. With no real races and no faith that any races that were set were actually going to happen, and no one to train with anyway there was not a lot to motivate my training. I don’t think I am telling anyone anything they weren’t already feeling during these bizarre times.
However, the Kerrville Triathlon Festival would go on this year. This is a really well organized race put on by a great race company, High Five Events. They always have plenty of volunteers and the course is well marked and well supported. And it seems that the entire City of Austin moves to Kerrville for the weekend.
After one particularly horrible hot training run (which ended with me flipping off Shannon and Dan), I determined that running 13.1 miles was out of the question, let alone running 13.1 miles after swimming and biking, so I downgraded my race for the Half Iron Distance to the Quarter Iron Distance. It was just going to be a training race. I did not feel prepared or strong, but I had been swimming at Barton Springs on Fridays in the early early morning so I knew I wasn’t gonna drown on a 1000 meter swim, though it would not be fast. I knew I would do fine on the bike since it was only 28 miles and I normally ride mush longer than that. And I knew I could run 6 1/2 miles.
The Sunday before the race I had an amazing 7 mile run and was feeling pretty good about the prospects of my fall running season. That evening I took the dog out into the yard for his evening poo, stepped wrong and twisted my ankle. Hurt like a bitch, but I knew it would be fine in the morning. But it didn’t feel fine in the morning. It was a weird pain on the outside of the ankle but not bruising and not much swelling, I’m sure it will be fine. It didn’t bother me when I would bike and obviously not when I would swim, but I was concerned that it wasn’t resolving quickly like I thought it would. On Thursday I ran a an easy 3 1/2 miles just to see if I could and I could – it didn’t hurt any less than it had been but it also didn’t hurt much more either. So the run prolly wouldn’t be pretty, but it would be doable.
I had secured the little cabin that I stay in in Kerrville every year. It’s on the bike course and just a 1/4 mile off the run course and the gal that rents it, Barb, is a real doll. Perfect for Kerrville – an adorable little town.
The day before the 1/4 and 1/2 Iron distance races there is a super sprint – 300 meter swim, not really sure the distance of the bike (probably between 10 and 16 miles) and a 2 mile run. A lot of folks will do both the sprint on Saturday then a longer race on Sunday, but I was certainly in no condition to race two days in a row. As I said, I stay right on the bike course but there is a really sharp turn at the end of the road, so me and Barb put up warning signs. Then I got up bright an early on Saturday so I could stand in front of my cabin in my pajamas drinking a cup of coffee and cheering on the sprint racers. And Saturday ended up being was a beautiful morning, really perfect weather.
It became apparent that I knew a LOT of folks racing. After the last sprint biker rode by, I walked down the hike and bike trail to the run course to do some more cheering.
And OMG, everyone was in town! I got to see so many of my friends that I hadn’t seen in almost two years. It was just so great being back at a big race with all my friends. I guess I hadn’t realized how many people I hadn’t seen during this whole Covid pandemic or how much I had missed everyone. So many folks came out for this race, it was the biggest crowd of folks I had been in since, well, since Kerrville 2019. I spent several hours in the finish line area just visiting and did not get back to my cabin until around 1:00.
I went back to my cabin to get ready for the Sunday race. You had to set your race equipment up on Saturday and after 1:00 you could rack your bike in T1, the first transition area -you have to rack your bike the night before. T1 is where you keep your bike and bike stuff while your swimming. Then you would put your run stuff into T2 or the second transition area (the area where you keep your running stuff and leave you bike when you transition from the bike to the run). You had to have your T2 set up before the race and it is most convenient to do so on Saturday, since T1 and T2 are not particularly close to each other. Most races have one transition area and we’all just call it T1 and T2 depending on whether we are getting out of the water or getting off our bikes, but at Kerrville there are two different transition areas because the beginning of the race is mile and a half from the end of the race. This can be a bit intimidating to the uninitiated, and the process can be confusing when you are trying to figure out what goes where while organizing your stuff in your hotel room. So here’s how it goes:
With your packet (your race numbers, swim cap, and transition passes) you get three bags. A Red bag for the Bike transition, a Blue bag for the Run transition and a Green bag for your morning clothes.
We’ll start with the Blue bag because it is the easiest. Into the blue run transition bag goes your run stuff, that is anything you need for your run – sneakers, maybe socks, cap or visor, your run race number on your run belt, maybe a water bottle, maybe a gel or granola bar. Put it all in the bluebag. You leave this bag in T2 tied to the your bike rack to keep it off the ground in case of rain or ants (the racks are marked by race number groups of about 30 and you can choose a position anywhere on that rack). When you get off the bike, you rack your bike next to your bag, take off your helmet and cycling shoes, grab your blue bag and dump all the stuff out, then put on socks and running shoes, and grab your water bottle, and visor and run belt w/ number to put on as your are running out of T2 to save time. When you finish the race you will have an opportunity to get your bike and the other stuff you left in T2 and T2 is right near the finish line.
Next we’ll do the Green bag because it will make the red bag make more sense. So on race morning it was 53 degrees but the racers are all clad in tiny spandex suits while getting ready to get in the water. Also, racers do not enter the water all together. The start of the 1/2 Iron race was 7:30 and age groups enter the water several minutes apart. The 1/4 Iron race didn’t start until 8:20, so all the races with their 3% body fat would freeze to death while waiting for the race to start if they had to stand there with no shoes on in 53 degree weather. The green bag is where you put your sandals or flip flops, sweatshirt or jacket, good luck charm and anything else that you need while waiting for the race to start. You drop this bag with volunteers about 5 minutes before your scheduled race start. So arguably, the green bag is empty when you get to the race that morning (psst, but it’s not).
So the Red bag is where you put all your bike stuff to set up with your bike (that you racked the night before). Shoes, maybe socks, helmet, sunglasses, water bottle, gels/granola bars, sunscreen. Once you get to your bike before the race in the morning, you dump all of this stuff out of the Red bag and set it up so you can get it out of T1 quickly – bottles and food on the bike, then stuff arranged so you can spray sunscreen, sock, shoe, sock, shoe, glasses, helmet, bike and run to the exit.* You leave the Red bag with your bike, because before you leave you need to put everything you were swimming in – goggles, cap and wetsuit into the empty Red bag so volunteers can transport it to T2 where you can get it at the end of the race. You probably wanna throw the sunscreen bottle in there, too. Anything left in T2 not in a bag gets tossed or donated.
*Because you have all of this crap in your red bag, you’ll have to put your dry wetsuit, swim goggles and swim cap in the green bag to get everything to the race start. But don’t worry because you will be wearing all of that stuff when the race starts, so the only stuff that will need to fit in the green bag is the stuff you take off right before you start.
I got all my required stuff into the transition areas the night before, but continued to run into people I knew, so everything was taking me forever (it’s tough being so popular).
I was getting late, so for dinner I ran to HEB and got some of that rotisserie chicken salad, a half loaf of bread (apparently you can buy a half loaf of artisan bread) and a 6 pack of light beer (hey, it’s the night before the race). Then I took a shower and got to bed to get a good night sleep for my big race.
Yeah, I didn’t sleep for shit. I finally got out of bed at 5:00am because, why not, it wasn’t like I had slept at all since about 11:00pm. I felt like 💩 and I couldn’t eat. Also my stomach was all jacked up. I felt like I was waking up for Ironman where I had trained for all season, not a race that I suspected I might have to walk half the run. Barb had left a muffin in the fridge, but I could only manage to eat a few bites. I grabbed the muffin and my green and red bag and got in the truck and drove to T1.
Once at the race start site, I went into T1 and set up my bike stuff, used the port-o-john, then went back to the truck to try to get warm and eat more of that muffin. I also tried to get an upbeat song stuck in my head (unfortunately the only radio stations were oldies and really oldies). After awhile I got out used the port-o-john again (WTF stomach), went back to the truck and managed to eat the rest of the muffin. Transition closes at 7:15 and once “transition is closed” you are not allowed to futz with your stuff until you come out of the water, so I checked my stuff one last time and then headed down to the water for the Star Spangled Banner and to socialize.
I was cold and at about 7:45 I decided to put on my wetsuit. Let’s just say we all gained a little Covid weight and it took awhile to get in, I counted that as my race warm up. I dropped my Green bag with my sweatshirt and sandals with the volunteers and waited by the water for my group to start.
Several of my friends told me that the water was not cold enough to warrant a wetsuit, but let’s be honest. I live in Texas. 98% of the time the water temperature and/or race distance does not warrant a wetsuit for warmth, but my swim sucks and a wetsuit makes you more buoyant and makes it easier for me to swim, so yes, if given the option I will ALWAYS go with a wetsuit.
I had never done the 1/4 Distance at this race before and for the 1/2 Iron the swim just seems so long. Like, much longer than any other 1/2 Iron race swim I have done and a 1/2 Iron is always the same distance with a 2k (1.2 mile) swim. From the shore, the 1/4 buoy markers also looked impossibly far away. But I was fairly certain I would not drown since I had been swimming one slow mile at Barton Springs every Friday. I generally start in the back of the pack of my age group. There is really no need to make all those nice ladies swim over me. But once in the water, it was really beautiful, not too warm, not too cold. No real current, no waves. And the 1/4 distance really wasn’t horribly long. It was shorter than the Barton Springs swims I had been doing. I swam reasonably straight and the only real issue I had was that there was gal drafting off me (swimming in my slipstream) which is allowable and I generally don’t mind, but she kept tapping my right ankle which hurt like a bitch. If she had been tapping my left foot I would hardly have even noticed, but the only real way to get someone off your feet if you don’t want them drafting it to kick them a few times (I’m not talking about knocking anyone teeth out or anything – although I do know some folks who would find that acceptable). Since my ankle already hurt I did not think kicking a person was going to improve my lot in life at that particular juncture.
I got out of the water after 22:04 minutes at a 2:12/100m which is right about what I swim. 🤷♀️ Extremely mediocre, but just what I expected.
I ran up the big hill to my bike where it took way too long to get my socks on (why do I wear socks during a race? Because I am a friggin delicate flower, that’s why). I managed to get dressed and stuff all my wet, grassy, dirty swim gear into the Red bag where it would cook in the sun for the rest of the race, but hey, free penicillin!
I jumped on my bike and set off. While it was still chilly out, the way to warm up is to pedal harder. The ride started on this nice smooth neighborhood road for about 1.5 miles, then you ride through town with is kind of cobblestoney for another mile or so, then you get on the Main Street/Hwy 27 for another 12 miles of smooth concrete. The first half of the bike route is flat and fast. Then you turn towards Centerpoint and remember that Texas roads are predominately made of chip-seal and hills. I had made pretty good time on the first half and the day was not windy, so even though we were dealing with that horrible chip-seal, the ride was still pretty good. Also, while the race director had signs warning folks to slow down on the low water crossings, it appears that sometime during Covid they re-did the low water crossings so they were in very good shape (no potholes).
At mile 22 is the hideous hill. Besides being the steepest hill on the course, it is a surprise hill. It is around a corner after not-a-downhill. I mean you expect an uphill after a downhill, but this is some random hill out in the middle of nowhere with no warning (unless you are riding near me, then you’re gonna get a warning). Just as I approached the hill, I was riding passed a guy. I yelled, “Get in a good gear! Big ass hill, though it doesn’t look like it.” I have no idea if he believed me, but then bam!, your in your granny gear, standing up trying to get up this hill. This is where I finally caught up to Dottie who really seemed to be enjoying the hill [/s]. There were two gals walking their bikes near the top, as well. We all determined that there really ought to be a sign warning up about the hill.
At the top of the hill you make a sharp right turn and enjoy a long downhill. Since I had just passed Dottie, I had no idea where she was, but I didn’t want her to pass me on the down hill, so I kicked it into overdrive. Then the last few miles stretch is a very gradual uphill (about .5% grade) until you turn into the transition area. I took my shoes off as approached the dismount line, then jumped off my bike and ran to my bike-to-run rack.
The 29 mile bike completed in 1:26:15 at 20.2 miles per hour, so pretty good!
When I racked my bike bag on Saturday, I was the first one there, so I tied my bag to the end of the rack. But a lot of folks will tie there bag right up next to another bag not remembering that a bike has to fit in there, too. So someone had tied their bag to the very very end of the rack right next to my bag, leaving both of us about 6 inches of rack space…but I got there first. I racked my bike, figuring when that person got in, they would just have to find a better place. I got out of my helmet, brushed some grass off my socks since I took my shoes off on the bike, got into my running shoes, grabbed my water bottle, visor and run number belt and headed out onto the run course.
If this race was going to fall apart it would be on the run course. My run training had not been great and just as I was getting inspired, I twisted my ankle and had to stop the track workouts. My ankle had not bothered me at all on the bike, but I knew if I started having new or worse ankle pain I was going to blow the run because I did not want to ruin my entire fall running season by really messing myself up on a race that didn’t really matter. I got started on the run and felt pretty good. There was a gal in front of my with a (seemingly) good pace and good running cadence, so I paced off of her while I got my bearings. The run is about 2.5 miles out on a paved hike and bike trail to a turn around, then you run back the same trail, pass the finish line 😬 by another mile, then turn around and run back to the finish line.
There was a lot of self-talk on the run. It feels like you are running uphill the whole way out and the sun was shining so even though the weather wasn’t awful it felt hot. So long as I ran straight, my ankle was fine, but it did not like lateral movement, so I figured if I just stayed on the trail I should be fine. I got to the one mile marker feeling a bit winded but I always feel like crap for the first 3 miles of a run after getting off the bike. I just kept telling myself that I needed to make it to the turn around. I passed the gal who I had been pacing off of (a bad idea, by the way) at about the 2 mile marker. Only 1/2 mile to the turn around. You can do anything for five minutes, I told myself.
I finally made it to the turn around and thought, woo-hoo, downhill. But alas, this course was uphill in both directions. No, I don’t know how, but it was. Ok, 2 1/2 miles to the finish area. 2 1/2 miles is how far the Brushy Creek trail dam is to my house, so I just told myself, get over the dam. Then “get down the hill”. When I run my 6 1/2 mile route on Brushy Creek trail I tell myself that the first two miles are the warm up and the last two mile are the cool down (the other 2 1/2 miles are the “middle.” And yeah, I do have to work on something more inspiring and will be taking suggestions). So when I had 2 miles until the “finish line” I told myself, this is just the cool down (even though the race did not end there). At some point the gal who I had paced off of then passed passed me. Never a good sign and generally means that I started too fast. I just tried to hold my pace and maybe get a Dua Lipa song stuck in my head (which is hard when there is no music to get you started. Don’t get me wrong, there is a Dua Lipa song stuck in my head right now, but that is only because I heard it on the radio 14 hours ago, but I digress…). When you run through the finish area on your way to the final dog-leg of the race all of the teams, spectators and everyone who already finished the race already is there to cheer you on. This is probably the easiest part of the race since you have so much support…then you pass the finish line and have to run the dog-leg where there are not many people, and you have to fight to keep your spirits up.
I just need to get to the final turn around, just get to the turn around… Once I made the U-turn, I just had to get home. First you get to this low water bridge, just get to the bridge, just get to the bridge. Then once over the bridge it would be like running from the trail back to my Dinosaur ( I have a giant metal T-Rex on my property). As soon as I cleared that bridge I kept yelling to myself “Run to the Dinosaur! Run to the Dinosaur!” even I realize just how ridiculous this is.
Finally, I crossed the finish line!
The run took 59:51 at a 9:08 pace, so not horrible considering my training.
My ankle really did not bother me on or after the run. I did soak in the Guadalupe River after the race (there are a bunch of tubes you can use to float in the river with your post race beer and your friends, which rocks).
My total race time was 2:54:20 which was good enough for second place in my age group.
*And a week after the race I finally went to the doctor and it was determined that I had actually fractured my ankle, so maybe I shouldn’t have been racing on it. Oops.
After everything was cancelled in 2020, including the TripleBypass which I was signed up for, I decided to do it this year. The course was a bit shortened from the original 120 miles ending in Vail and not Avon, but the 15 miles that were taken of at the end were all downhill. Not sure how I felt about that (Oh, wait. Yes, I was. WTF? That’s free speed!)
I knew a few folks who would be out there and Judy and I would ride together.
Because Covid was having its third spike with Delta, I decided to drive instead of flying, and Phil came with me. It would be between a 14 and 16 hour trip which was doable in one day while taking turns. We were leaving early early Friday morning, so on Thursday I took the dog to be boarded at Shady Acres and loaded up all of the cats to be boarded at my vet. While unloading the cat carriers I tweaked my left lower back. Nothing too bad. I was sure it would resolve itself.
We left the house at 3:30am and drive straight through to Evergreen, CO to our AirBnB. After 14 1/2 ours of sitting in the car, while picking up a suitcase my back seized up. Like, can’t stand up, holy sh!t that hurts, is somebody stabbing me? After standing hunch over for several seconds I was able to straighten up very slowly, but I couldn’t sit down, stand up, don or doff my shoes or pants, or roll over in bed (seriously, roll over in bed? What muscles do you even use to do that?!). I sent a text to my chiropractor’s personal phone number begging for advice (and an appointment on Tuesday when I would get back into town), and he was sweet enough to oblige and gave me some advice, ending with “if it is really bad, don’t ride.” (as if…) Shout out to John “TheTriDoc” Tuggle.
I took it really easy all morning, then took a hike to see if that would loosen it up. Walking wasn’t too bad, but I was still having trouble getting in and out of the car. I was really uncertain about whether I would be able to ride my bike. The TripleBypass is 106 miles over three mountain passes with 10,000 feet of climbing. Even if I could sit on my bike, could I stand up if I needed the extra momentum to get up the hills? I had no idea.
Friday night I slept like poo since every time I would roll over I felt like someone was stabbing me in the back. I got up at 5:00am on Saturday and hobbled out to the car. I felt like if I could get to the starting line, I could get to the finish line. But I also feared that I would be calling my husband as soon as I started climbing the hills…and the ride started at the base of a pass.
I was able to get on my bike, but clipping into my cycling pedals was a bit of challenge. All my pain was on my left side and I clip in right foot, then left foot. But I was having trouble lifting my left foot to get it on the pedal. This is not really something you can just change to the other foot in one day. I’ve been clipping right to left since 2007. It was taking me 3 or 4 tries to get my left foot clipped in. I looked like a total rookie. But I. Could. Ride! I tried to stand up on my pedals and I. Could. Stand! OK, I can totally do this!
Yeah, this Triple Bypass thing.
As stated earlier the TripleBypass (the Triple) is three mountain peaks with 10,000 feet of climbing. The ride was Saturday, August 21, 2021 and as you can see it was a cloudy 55 degrees when we started in Evergreen (so, definitely not Texas).
As you can see from the elevation graph (green line) above, it starts at the bottom of a hill. So even thought it was 55 degrees, I knew I would warm up pretty fast. I have done the Triple before so I “knew” all I would need was a windbreaker for the downhills. I wore cycling shorts, a short sleeve jersey with my arm coolers (thin separate arm sleeves that keep the sun off my fair skin), socks and cycling shoes, with fingerless gloves.
Back up a minute. Since I could barely get around the day before, when I found these socks I had to buy them because, of course, the ride was going to be a dumpster fire.
The socks I wore
We started on the Squaw/Juniper Passes (I think that little bump at the top is the two different passes, but everyone considers it one hill).
I determined that I was going to go really easy if I had any chance of finishing this thing since, while my back was not actively hurting, it was definitely letting me know it was not happy.
The ride is pretty casual and there is a metric shit-ton of people. Riders as far as the eye can see in front of you and riders as far as the eye can see behind you. If you are an extrovert, it is really easy to start up random conversations with the people riding near you. If you are an introvert, it is really easy to be really uncomfortable because random people keep trying to talk to you.
Judy and I pretty much stayed together, but occasionally she would get ahead of me before I could catch up. Inexplicably, my back was feeling a lot better (although I was still having difficulty with my pedals). When I got to the first rest stop which is almost but not quite at the top of the pass, I did a quick stop to refill my Gatorade bottle with something called Base which tasted like bananas I think 🤷♀️, and refilled my water, then ate 1/4 of a bagel with peanut butter. I didn’t see Judy (or Thomas, Janice or Bert), so I went on.
About two miles later there was this great vista view and I decided to take a selfie. Judy texted me as she was waiting back at the rest stop so we decided to meet at the vista point instead. As I was waiting, I started a conversation with a random gal and she mentioned that she might need to find some Chamois Butt’r (the stuff we cyclists put on our nether regions to fend off chafing). I said, “I have some Chamois Butt’r!” I had a small traveling packet that I had stuck in my jersey pocket “just in case” and which I offered to her (because that is how we cyclists roll). I was definitely making friends.
As pretty much anyone will tell you, I carry everything with me on a ride. If you need it chances are, I have it.
the selfie
Judy and I hooked up again and headed out. It took 2 hours and 07 minutes to get to the top of the Squaw Pass. I donned my windbreaker and started down. It took 32 minutes to get to the bottom, and it took so long because there was a head wind.
I have to say, it was a little chilly coming down the hill, but a lot of fun!
Over the Squaw/Alpine Passes is Idaho Springs. From Idaho Springs we would ride through Georgetown and at some point start up the Loveland Pass. Thing is, as you can see from the elevation graph, we are climbing from Idaho Springs all the way to the top of Loveland Pass. Pretty much 30 miles of climbing so it’s hard to know when you are actually starting the Loveland Pass climb. We stopped at a gas station to use the restroom and have an iced espresso, then continued our climb.
At this point I turned on my music and mini smart-speaker, because sometimes you need some motivation to get you up a 30 mile hill. As soon as it starts it’s Enter Sandman by Metallica. I’d call that some motivation.
We got to the second rest stop and imma be honest, I have no idea where we were, but we replenished our drinks and got some kibble – potato chips and a sugary gel, refilled bottles, then continued on our way.
Judy fell a bit behind me and I rode along talking to whoever would acknowledge me. Ran into Matt Miller and his group, rode up to guy while Wheel in the Sky was playing and he said “I love Journey” so I slowed down to ride with him until the end of the song. Rode up to a gal who said, “Dua Lipa? Will I look like her when I finish this ride?” I replied, “Maybe after you take a shower…”
A lot of this section was on the bike trail which is separate from the road and tree-lined. The trees blocked the wind, but also blocked some of the sun and it was getting chilly again, but since the trail was narrow I did not stop to put on my jacket. At the end of the trail is I think what is considered the base of the Loveland pass and also the lunch rest stop. I ran into Bert who looked like he was going to freeze to death and we talked while I waited for Judy. Judy had stopped to put on her jacket so she was wearing it when she came in, but still freezing. We grabbed some pretty yummy sandwiches and a couple of Cokes (something I never drink except when I am climbing a 30 mile hill) and headed to the enclosed tents since it was now about 45 degrees and cloudy. WTF Colorado? WTF?
While we were finishing our lunch and talking to a bunch of random people (of course), someone came into the tent and said “The pass is closed!” Apparently, they were not letting any cyclists on the Loveland Pass (Route 6) due to an injured cyclist and it sounded pretty bad, though we really didn’t know what happened (later it was determined that a rider had a heart attack and did not survive 😪).
While we waited, we got colder and colder. The medical tent started giving out those silver space blankets you may have seen at the end of a marathon. It is thin, shiny and plastic and they retain heat. They come in a tiny little packet, but open to about 5’x5′.
Some gal in a space blanket in the woods, nothing weird about that
We were all wrapped up like baked potatoes and I commented that we should keep the blankets to stuff in our shirts to keep our chests warm on the descent. Even though it came out of a packet that was about 2″x2″, when I folded mine up it looked like every fitted sheet I have ever folded in my life. I was able to stuffit in one of my jersey pockets, just barely, for safe keeping. This ended up being a great idea, so yay, me!
The Pass was reopened after about 45 minutes and we all exited the tent and inexplicably it was sunny and 65 degrees. Judy and I ran into Thomas as we were leaving and we all three started the 7 miles to the top of the Loveland Pass. This should be fun.
In my humble opinion, this is the hardest part of the ride. I had my music going and powered up the pass.
We made it to the top!
Top off the Loveland Pass and that’s my friend Judy!
I hate coming off the Loveland Pass because the road is in horrible condition with all sorts of potholes and switchbacks with S turns. I ride my brakes the whole way down because I do not want to die flying off the side of a mountain on my bike. I put on my jacket, stuffed my space blanket between my jersey and jacket and, since I had a gaiter in my pocket that I was using as a Covid mask, I thought what the hell, I’ll use it as a gaiter. Not only was I not cold coming off the pass, they had fixed the road and it was super smooth (but I still rode my brakes the whole way down because I am a pussy).
We had about thirty-five more miles left and one last pass, the Vail Pass. This does not include Swan Mountain, which I have been told “does not count.” I have never gotten a good answer as to why it does not count. I feel like a 4 mile climb should “count”.
Once we got over Swan Mountain is was a slight incline all along a bike trail to Copper Mountain then the last pass! We are so close! My back is still feeling fine, the sun is shining. We’re gonna do this!
We ride along the bike trail which really isn’t bad, mostly about a 1% grade until we get to a section that finally goes down hill a bit. Weeee! Matchbox Twenty’s “How Far We’ve Come” is rockin’. I’m rollin’. Hey, lookit that sign that says “Slow. Sharp Turns.” I made it through the first turn. And if I recall correctly, I did hit my brakes…
The Scene of the Crime (notice how fast yellow turns to dark blue)
So the GPS was not keeping perfect time with the ride as I was, in fact, on the trail, but my rear wheel slid out as I tried to make that second turn while going too fast and .. tuck and roll! You can see how my speed goes from the moderately fast yellow to a dark blue skipping over all the greens and various shades of blue that should have been between.
I went down on my left side, but I tucked my left shoulder in (tuck & roll, baby!). My shoulder and hip took the brunt of the fall. Judy was right behind me, but apparently took that “Slow. Sharp turns” sign to heart and did not hit me (Yay!). I believe she said something along the lines of “Oh my God, are you alright? Didn’t you see the sign?”
The first thing I checked was my shoulder to make sure I did not break my collar bone or separate my shoulder. Nope and nope. The next thing I did was make sure I could move due to my previous back pain. OK, not only was I able to move, but my back did not hurt at all. What the hell? We later agreed that this must be like in sitcoms when someone gets amnesia and when they get hit in the head again, instead of having debilitating brain swelling they are cured. Just like when you go to the chiropractor, I must have popped my back into place. I bet when I see my chiro on Tuesday he’ll just throw me down a flight of stairs and call me healed. 🙄
Also, even though I wrecked moving fast on pavement, I had just one little spot of road rash on my knee and didn’t rip my jersey or shorts but had a tiny hole in my arm cooler sleeve. I was very oddly not hurt. Judy and I decided that I must be like Zoe from Tarantino’s movie “Death Proof“.
I asked Judy to get my bike off the trail so no other cyclists would hit it, and then to check it out to make sure I didn’t break anything. (Yes, I yelled, “How’s my bike” like very cyclist does after a wreck). I crawled into the grass on the other side of the trail to retrieve my smart speaker which flew out of my bike bag on impact. Sorry Rob Thomas, but no more music today. I need to pay a bit more attention to what I am doing.
Everything checked out. There is a slight wobble in the front wheel so I loosened my front brakes so they wouldn’t rub. I readjusted the rear brake, but everything else seemed ok since I did not fall on the drive side (where the chain and derailleur are).
I recommended we get back to riding before I started to stiffen up (and I was pretty sure I was not going to be able to move my arm the next day). But only 30 miles left. 👍
When we got to the next rest stop I wanted to ride through, but Judy thought we should probably stop and get a bit of food in us. And how right she was. They had a table full of little plates of bacon! I had some bacon, then some bacon, then I ate something else (not really sure what, don’t remember) and had a half a can of coke. Just as we were about to get back on the trail it got cloudy, then cold, then it started raining again. Damn it! Jackets back on!
From here to the base of the Vail Pass the trail looks flat but actually had an incline (of course) and this is where I started to lose steam. I think it was a mixture between 75 miles of riding, all that post wreck adrenaline wearing off, and the cold… oh and that fact that my front tire was half flat but neither of us noticed after the wreck. 🤦♀️ (I only realized it when I was putting my bike in the truck at the finish line).
The Vail Pass climb was probably the hardest for me and it is usually the easiest since it is not very steep and it is not very long. I spun up in my granny gear and could hardly stay in front of the guy on the elliptical bike. It’s like a gym elliptical machine, but it is on wheels (you know I was not gonna let that guy beat me).
When we got to the top of the Vail Pass they was a mini rest stop and both Judy and I had run out of water and sports drink (I hadn’t thought to fill up at the last stop). Now all we had to do was coast down the last 13 miles.
I hadn’t even taken my jacket off since it never really heated up, but now we had 13 miles in the cloudy damp cold to ride down hill. I first 5 miles of the descent had some S turns and I took those signs very seriously (we did pass a cyclist who did not heed the signs and whose friends were tending to him), but once the road straightened out I went as fast as I could while shivering.
I damn near froze to death and was oh-so-happy they shortened the ride by those other 15 miles (the miles I was bitching about missing out on in the beginning).
I was able to finish, and I still felt ok – no back pain, shoulder and hip still ok (and still ok two days later, which is really kinda weird), but that was a tough ride for me. Going in with all of the anxiety and uncertainty as to whether I was going to be able to ride at all, and the very eclectic weather all day required a lot of extra energy on my part. Energy I could have used at the end. Then wrecking just put me in a different mind set (I will be getting my bike checked out this week and the front wheel straightened before I ride on it again to make sure there are no cracks that I did not see).
I will say that Team Evergreen puts on a great ride. Very well supported and very safe. Both the Squaw and Loveland pass which are on roads (Vail is on a paved bike trail) were closed to motorized traffic (besides the Ride SAG and Emergency Vehicles). The weather was better on Sunday, but what are ya gonna do? If you are considering doing the Triple, I do recommend it.
Being fully vaxxed, I am finally feeling safe enough to get back to racing. While I continued to exercise during Covid 2020/2021, unrelated stressors and a lack of motivation kept me from “training”. In fact, before this June 13, 2021 race, the last time I swam was on Christmas Day 2020 and I have never been a good swimmer, but I’m not going to let something like possible drowning stop me from racing.
I decided to ride my bike out to Lakeway from Round Rock on Saturday to pick up my race packet (bib number, bike sticker, t-shirt etc), since Google maps indicated it was only 18 miles away. Inexplicably Google maps was off by 8 miles, so I ended up with a nice 52 mile hilly warm-up ride in a humid 91 degrees the day before the race. Yeah, I won’t feel that in the morning.
When I got home, I loaded the bike into the truck then over-packed everything I could possibly need for this short 500m swim/10 mile bike/2.5 mile run race. Wetsuit, extra swim cap, clear and tinted goggles, 2 pair socks, extra water bottle. The race website indicated that if you wanted to park near the race site you had to arrive before 6:00am for the 7:00am race start. Otherwise you would have to walk/ride 2 miles to the race site with all your over-packed and extra gear. I set my alarm for 4:20 to give me time to get a poo out of the dog, feed the dog and cats, feed the Red and drive out to Lakeway in time to get good parking.
4:20 came early after a night of not sleeping very well since I was dehydrated from my warm-up ride.
I arrived at the good parking area at 5:45am (score!) and walked my bike down the long hill to the transition area (where you keep the equipment you are not using while you are racing each different sport). Since the water is generally the lowest point on the course (because I don’t really know how it could work otherwise), and transition was near the water this meant a long climb once we got on our bikes.
I found an open rack position and set up my gear. Since there are multiple racks, I marked my rack with my extra bright-pink swim cap so I could easily find it as I ran into transition delirious from my first swim in 6 months. I also put my bike into a “good” climbing gear since I knew I would have to climb that hill right out of transition. I walked over the the emcee/DJ/announcer (which happened to be Erin Truslow) and was going to tell her to remind folks to put their bikes in a good starting gear, when a first time triathlete was asking her if anyone had extra goggles since she had forgotten hers. So Erin looked and me and asked, “Do you have extra goggles.” Ever the girl scout, of course I did. I lent the gal my goggles figuring if she didn’t see me after the race she would give them to Erin (and yes, I did get them back).
A few minutes later it was announced that the water was 74 degrees and therefore wetsuit legal. YAY! A wetsuit makes it much easier to swim and much more difficult to drown, and since this was a Colin’s Hope event I would be really embarrassed if I’d drown. Apparently not many folks thought to bring a wetsuit for a Texas June swim, but I have no shame.
I put my wetsuit, which I have not worn in two years, halfway on and headed down to the water. Putting on a wet is like the reverse of taking off a damp sports bra. There is a lot of stuffing and pulling and the end result is the appearance not unlike a lumpy black Picasso sausage. Think you’re thin? A wetsuit will take that 4% of body fat and push it into the most unattractive places. Hey, should I be able to see my own buttcheeks when I am facing forward? Protip: Nobody looks like a Marvel Superhero in all that neoprene.
After one last potty stop, I started to head down to the water, when a gal ran up to CC Rowe (who was a transition volunteer) and asked if she had an extra swim cap. She had ripped hers putting it on. CC looked at me with a “You?” I said, “There is a bright pink swim cap marking my rack that she can use.” CC ran into transition and got her the swim cap. The gal was very thankful and promised to get it back to me, but I have about 40 swim caps so I told her that really, she could keep it (and yes, she did give it back).
At five minutes until race time, I was properly packed in and sweating profusely. I couldn’t wait to get into that 74 degree water to cool off a bit.
The race start was a time trial, so every two seconds an athlete would enter the water. We were self-seeded (lined up) by speed, but it seemed like a lot of the folks were not anxious to be in the front part of the line except of course all of the collegiate swimmers. The collegiate swimmers were intimidating the hell out of me -all young, with sculpted shoulders. I was never a great swimmer and I hadn’t swam in so long, I had no idea what kind of numbers I would pull. I got in place at the insistence of a gal who thought she was slower than me and soon enough it was my turn to get in the water.
What the hell! I expected a shockingly refreshing 74 degrees, but it was more like bath water. Way too warm for my wetsuit, but at this point I was committed. The way one is supposed to do a triathlon swim is to periodically look up and sight on the buoys (big bright inflatable balls or triangles, or in this case an inflatable Swan) to make sure you stay on course. However, I was too hot and my wetsuit felt too tight, I was so out of swim shape and the water was clear enough that I could see the feet of the gal in front of me, so I just followed her hoping she was swimming straight. This worked out for me, but I must state that this is NOT RECOMMENDED and I have heard (and been in) way too many stories where a person gets pulled way off course by a swimmer who has not idea where they are going.
The swim took me 11:59, so a 2:23 min/100meters, which is terrible (on the other hand, my Garmin showed that I swam 600m, and not 500 so maybe I should have looked for the buoys) Meh, I’ll make it up on the bike.
I got out of the water and jogged into transition where I wrestled myself out of my wetsuit, donned my bike gear, grabbed my bike and headed out to the bike course. You cannot get on your bike until you cross the “mount line”. My T1 time (between the swim and bike) was 2:50 which is also not great, but it does include me getting out of my wetsuit, and the wetsuit definitely saved me that much time in the swim, so I’ll take it.
The mount line is usually pretty close to the exit of transition, but in this case, the run course crosses the bike course, so the mount line was 1/4 way up the hill. Getting started on your bike on a hill sucks in general. Having to run up that hill with your bike in hard plastic shoes before I have to get on my bike sucks specifically.
Remember how I said I put my bike in a good climbing gear? Yeah, about that… apparently not. So starting on a hill in the wrong gear really, really sucks. After scootering about 50 feet, I was finally able to get enough momentum to clip into my pedals to get started on the bike.
The bike is the best part of every triathlon and this was a 5 mile course X 2 through a neighborhood. The course was rolling, but it wasn’t crazy hot and it wasn’t windy. You did have to keep an eye out for the kamikaze deer and there was one U-turn so you had to keep an eye on the other competitors while navigating that turn. Another thing about a U-turn is that it gives you an idea of how many folks are in front of you- whether that is good or not is up to you. It does tend to motivate me to pick up the pace. I was not really far back on the swim so I wasn’t too far back from the leader.
The course was pretty and fun and after the first loop you knew what coming and what corners you could fly through and which ones you might want to hit the brakes a bit. Coming around the U-turn on my second loop, a gal in front of me took the turn too fast and ended up skidding off the road into a bush. Luckily there were a lot of volunteers at the turn who ran over to see if she was ok, but this is what you gotta love about athletes – the gal who crashed was (a) apologizing to the volunteers, as (b) she got back on her bike and took off again. ❤
I zipped through the 10 mile bike course in 30:32 or 19.36mph, so not too bad (#humblebrag). I got back to transition, racked my bike, put on my running shoes, race bib, grabbed my water bottle and visor and headed out onto the run course. Since the race started at 7:00 it is still not quite 8:00am, so to someone hanging out in the shade drinking an ice coffee, it would not feel very hot, but it was actually 79 degrees and sunny.
I ran out onto the run course. Two and a half miles isn’t that long. I’ll just start of easy… I was sweating and panting and I could not get my heart rate under control, I guess I just needed some time. Quick footsteps, shoulders back, 2 1/2 mile isn’t that long. Since the run course was two loops I really only had to do two short 1.25 mile loops. Pffft, that’s nothing. I ran on.
OK, at some point I should be starting the second loop, but I was still running away from the transition area. I will not look at my GPS watch, I mean, I gotta be close, right? 🥵 FINALLY, I was running back towards the transition area! As I approached transition I asked a bystander, “Do I turn here?” gasping. No, just keep running. Oh, ok, the turn must be up ahead.
Yeah, no. Apparently a good part of the first loop was on the other side of transition. I still had about a third of the loop to go before I finished even one loop. This is the longest 1.25 miles ever! Just as I run passed the finish line area for the first time I hear Erin announcing the winner. Nope, nothing discouraging about that…
Now I see what my problem was:
You should never have to run passed the finish line TWICE before you finish
I finally finish the first loop, and my phone still trying to auto-dial EMS because my heart rate is so high. OK, at least now I know what I have to run to finish this thing. I tried to keep an even pace because I sure as hell couldn’t run any faster without Alexa defibrillating me, but I also didn’t want to blow up before the end. I ended up finishing the run in 20:52, so about an 8:30 minute mile (I think the course was a bit short, so I will round up).
So overall a decent race considering that I have been exercising but I have not been training. I really need to get back to training and with Covid restrictions being pulled back with folks getting vaccinated I can start working out with people again (I got myself a Covid dog as a running buddy, but he refuses to run… yes, even when it was cooler, but that is a whole nother story).
This year I had some holiday time to burn, and having had a successful Death Tour Ride I felt all trained up for the hills and decided that the Triple Bypass sounded like a good idea. I convinced my friend Erika to join me on this adventure since she seems to like riding hills, too.
The Triple Bypass is a one day 120 mile ride with 10,00 feet elevation gain over three mountain passes – The Squaw/Juniper Pass, Loveland Pass and Vail pass.
Erika and I decided to fly into Denver on Thursday for the Saturday ride. We shipped our bikes ahead via ShipBikes.com, so that we wouldn’t have to worry about getting a rental car that could hold 2 bike boxes.
I had secured an AirBnB on the western outskirts of Golden, just 6 miles from the Triple Bypass starting line at the foot of Lookout Mountain (with a view of the Woody Allen Sleeper House). A really great location.
When we arrived on Thursday, our bikes were waiting there for us. We got settled, then put our bikes back together and stowed the boxes. Erika was concerned that she may not have enough sealant in her front tire, so we found a bike shop in town, Pedal Pushers, to get some more sealant. The guys at the shop were really nice, super helpful, did the job, and wished us luck on the Triple, then sent us on our way.
The plan was to wake up on Friday and do a shake out/tuner ride up Lookout Mountain (to see Buffalo Bill’s grave). But just as we were about to roll out the door, Erika realized that her hydrolic rear disc brakes were not working. After adjusting them, per Google search results and YouTube video (the professionals) to no avail, she called her bike guy and he told us there was probably air in the lines and she needed to get a bike shop to bleed them for her. We headed back to Pedal Pushers and although they were slammed, they agreed to move Erika to the head of the line since we needed the bike for the Triple the next day.
My argument was that without a rear brake Erika would be sure to win some of the down hill Strava segments, but she balked, so we ended up at the bike shop. 😦
Since the shake out ride was out, we hiked the Enchanted Forest Trail instead. We were hoping to have the bike back in time to get a ride in before the big day, but alas, it was not to be. We got the bike back all fixed in the early evening and readied ourselves for the big day on Saturday.
We woke up what we thought was early in order to get an early start, but OMG this ride is huge! Our planned parking area was full, so we were directed further down the road, then again, then again. We finally found a spot on the side of the road where we didn’t think we would get towed and parked there. A gal and her boyfriend were parked in front of us and we borrowed their pump, then chatted a bit – she was from San Fransisco and her boyfriend was supporting her (by car, not bike). Really nice folks.
We got ready and headed to the start line at about 6:30am. While in seemed like we had been looking for parking for awhile, we were actually pretty close to the start line.
Getting Started – Oh, This Isn’t So Bad…
So we started ride at the beginning of the Squaw Pass, which meant no real warm-up before the 14 mile climb started. But the grade wasn’t horrible and the scenery was beautiful – green, green, green!
The Squaw/Juniper Pass is actually two passes, but you wouldn’t know because there is no break between the two. The climb is a comfortable 3-5% grade, so while it is relentless, I was able to keep myself in a reasonable gear and just grind on up the hill…forever. The Summit was about 11,000ft at 14.5 miles and it took over 2 hours to ride it. I was killing it at 7.1 mph (hint: I can run faster than that in a race).
The weather was perfect, cool and sunny. But you do work up a sweat while climbing. However, you’re gonna want to put on a light jacket for the descents because it gets cool fast! We stopped at the rest stop atop the pass and replenished our water and Gatorade and had some granola, and put on our jackets.
It was a fun, fast ride into Idaho Springs for the next 15 miles. While I am normally terrified on descents, this one was a not-scary-enough-grade, with gentle curves on a smooth pavement that I didn’t have to ride my breaks the whole way down. I chalked it up to my recent experience descending at the Death Ride Tour. Weeeee!
While 30 mph may look impressive, you did not see the insane locals careening down the mountain and passing me like I was standing still. Those folks are nuts!
Loveland Pass, Also People are Liars
Once Erika and I got into Idaho Springs, there was a not-really-a-rest-stop that we stopped at for a moment to take off our jackets. We chatted with some of the other riders. The next pass was the Loveland Pass. I have ridden Loveland before, but it was years ago and I was on a rented bike. I recall it being horrible. But “people” assured me that Loveland was not that bad. Yeah, it was a 7% average grade, but it was only 4 miles… well, maybe 4 1/2, but no more than 5. (wait a minute…). Squaw was much worse. Also, it’s actually the lead up to Loveland that is the booty kicker.
Oh, ok. Just 4-5 miles. Pfttt! I totally got this!
Oh, and a few things. People are f*ckin’ liars and OMG!
So from Idaho Springs we headed to Georgetown – about 9 miles. This really wasn’t too bad at about a 1-2% grade. In Georgetown we stopped at the rest stop to refuel and ran into that gal who parked in front of us. She took my picture and I took hers. And we wished each other well on our continued journey.
I also met a guy with a stuffed lamb on his helmet (also he was wearing a tie dyed skirt – the guy, not the lamb). I told him that I could not be beat by a guy with a lamb on his head. He indicated that the skirt would make him faster, but I didn’t think it was going to be aero going down the hills. We’ll see…
But once we got through Georgetown, there was another 7 miles at a 4% grade, but for some bizarre reason this is not counted as part of the pass climb. Why? I have no idea why. I concluded it was because people are liars!
Apparently the only part of the pass that “people” were “counting” was the part on Route 6, not even the other 8 miles on the bike path. At least the guy who made this elevation map counted the 9 miles that were a 6-7% grade.
Four miles my ass.
We did finally make it to the top of the pass at 12,000 ft. And even with enough energy to lift my bike. But it took over 3 hours to get there. I was beginning to think I was getting gipped. 2+ hours of climbing, 24 minutes of downhill, 3+ hours of climbing, well, surely the upcoming downhill would be worth it.
While we were at the top of the pass we ran into the gal that we met while parking our cars, again. I convinced her to triumphantly lift her bike overhead for her picture, too!
Wait, why is there only 8 miles of downhill?
So, yeah, after climbing for 30 miles, I was rewarded with 8 measly miles of downhill. But there was an added benefit. Not only random, large potholes, but also insane switchbacks. So I was gripping the entire way down. Trying to avoid the potholes while grabbing my breaks so hard I could not even let go to point out the potholes to warn whoever was behind me. Then, of course, there are the local kamakazis who want to die doing what they love, I guess. Butt in the air, crouched over the handle bars, pedaling furiously as they go flying passed me on and S curve. So I had to keep an eye out for them as I dodged potholes left and right.
Only one more hill left! Also, people are liars
So that’s two down. Only the Vail pass to go. I’ve ridden the Vail Pass before. You take the bike trail from Frisco to Copper Mountain which is a false flat (it looks flat, but you are actually climbing). So I know that while it is an incline, it’s not that bad. And I don’t remember Vail being a horrible climb (not after Loveland). So I was in a pretty good frame of mind.
The road flattened out a bit for about a mile or so, then as we turned towards Lake Dillon I was climbing again. But we were no where near the Vail Pass. This is where I learned that the 6% grade for 2 miles at Swan Mountain “does not count.”
I gotta tell you, I’m wondering who made the rules for what “counts” on this ride. I’m thinking the same 6 year old who makes the rules for every card game I’ve ever played with a 6 year old.
I got over ethereal Swan Mountain and stopped at the rest stop before out last big climb. Once again, I ran into the gal that parked her car in front of ours. I finally introduced Erika and I and got her name, Danielle. So of course that would be the last time I ever saw her.
As we were mounting our bikes to leave the rest stop I saw the guy with the lamb on his head stop. “Quick, we gotta leave and put as much distance between us as possible!”
Seriously, One Hill Left
Once over Swan Mountain, the ride was on a bike path for about 10 miles to the Vail Pass. THIS is the slight incline that I remembered. It had been raining intermittently throughout the afternoon – nothing crazy, but it started again and looked like it might continue for awhile. So, I stopped to put on my windbreaker. I also fired up my iPod and mini speaker.
I would like to apologize to all of the other riders who I encountered while listening to "What Does the Fox Say" if that song got stuck in your head for the next 45 miles.
Erika and I made a quick stop at the rest area at the base of the Vail Pass to take off our jackets and regroup, then started on our last hill!
The Vail Pass really isn’t that bad. It is only about 4.5 miles with a 3-4% grade. It was on a rather narrow bike path, but it wasn’t too difficult to pass people. I just had to watch for folks who might be descending on bikes in the other direction (there is a local company who will drive you and your bike to the top of the pass so that you can coast back into Copper Mountain. I’m fairly certain that these are the Cheaters riders we saw coming down).
The rain stopped pretty early on and we had a nice ride to the top (which actually appeared sooner than I expected). Yay!
We stopped at the top – mostly just for the photo op:
I also ran into my arch-nemisis one last time.
It’s All Downhill From Here
We had 30 miles left, but it was pretty much all downhill. Erika commented that she had never felt this good after 90+ miles of riding especially knowing we still had about 30 miles to go, and I had to agree. We were killing it!
The descent off the Vail Pass was glorious. The first part was on the smooth bike path- no cars, sweeping curves and barely any climbing traffic, so we could just fly!
Then it turned into a bike path that was as wide as a car lane, but no traffic and smoooooth.
Finally we were on the road with cars (boo!). At this point there was a bit of a headwind (or maybe we were just riding that fast). We were going at a good clip when two fellas passed us. I noticed that they really weren’t going that much faster than we were, so I kicked it into high gear and caught up with them so that we could draft instead of fighting the wind. Woo-hoo!
We ran into some bike traffic and somehow ended up in front of them (I have no recollection how that actually happened), but when they passed us again, one of the guys yelled, “Hop on!” This an invitation to draft off of them and make a pace line. Another couple joined us and soon the 6 of us were hauling ass.
The cops were stopping the car traffic for the bikes, so we were flying through the intersections. It was insane! At a few points I thought I was going to get dropped, because even with the draft it was tough to hold on we were pedaling so hard, but then I would think “Nuh-uh, I don’t want to be riding into this wind by myself.”
We averaged 23-27 mph for the last 30 miles (after riding 90 miles). Yes, we are badasses!
I’ve done the three day Death Ride Tour through Colorado. I have done the Tour das Hugel in Austin, twice. I’ve ridden to College Station and back over 200 miles in one day for tacos. The Triple Bypass is probably the toughest ride I have ever done.
Erika and I had designs on a recovery ride the day after. Nope. When I got up in the morning it was clear that that was not going to happen. We considered a hike, but couldn’t find a trail that was flat enough. A swim would have been nice, but we didn’t have a pool or any swim attire. So we opted to eat a lot of Italian food instead.
Even now, three days later, the best I could manage was a 4 1/2 mile recovery run. I still feel like a pinata.
But I must say, the support on this ride was phenomenal. Plenty of rest stops, great directional markings, so many happy volunteers, all kinds of food and drink on the ride and after the ride. I had a great time and would definitely recommend this ride for anyone who like a challenge and likes hills.
I signed up for the Tri for Old Glory in Martindale (by San Marcos) on Sunday June 30, because I knew I would be out of town for the next two triathlons scheduled in the area in July. I had done this Tri several years ago and remember that it was well run and a good time.
This was going to be an Olympic distance race (1500m swim/24 mile bike/10k (6.2 mile) run), so in preparation I did my 10 mile “weekend” long run before work on Friday, then a “short and easy” 60 mile bike ride on Saturday.
I kinda suck at taper and recovery. Saturday evening I was going to a happy hour, but fell asleep on the couch after my bike ride. Probably rest I needed.
Because this race is in San Marcos and because I didn’t drive to San Marcos on Saturday to get my race packet, I figured I should get there early to get my stuff and get set up in case there were any issues. I could not find my registration confirmation email (although it was showing up on my credit card statement which means I probably mis-typed my email address). I woke up at 3:45 am and was out of the house by about 4:10. It wasn’t until I left the house that I realized it had rained on Saturday night. It was cool and humid outside and a bit drizzily with some lightening in the distance, but it was hours before the race start so I was not concerned.
I put the address in my Garmin GPS and headed down I-35. Pretty soon I started seeing signs telling me that 35 was closed at Oltorf and I should take a detour. As most Austinites know, there aren’t that many routes to get to San Marcos from Austin that do not include 35. It was so freaking early that I could not think of a way to go that would not involve going way out of my way or driving through neighborhoods. I decided on taking Riverside to Congress, then Congress to 71. Traffic did not look like it was backing up on 35 as I exited Riverside, but you just know if I stayed on the highway I would probably still be there.
I got to the San Marcos area at about 5:30am. By the puddles on the sides of the roads, I could tell it must have really rained last night, but the weather wasn’t bad on the car ride down.
The race website had directions, but I had my Garmin GPS so instead of heading “east on Hwy 123. Travel ¼ mile and then left on FM621/Staples Road. Travel 3.6 miles and then left on Scull Road.” I followed the Garmin and ended up on Rt 80 to Main Street to some narrow paved road that turned into an even more narrow dirt road, down a steep hill that ended with a 90 degree turn onto the narrowest bridge that could support a car (I hoped) you have ever seen. Now, at this point even I had my suspicions that my Garmin was trying to hill me and get rid of the body. But my only option would be to backup over the bridge that was about 4 inches wider than my truck wheel base and make that 90 degree turn up the single-track dirt road hill backwards. I opted to keeping heading forward.
Luckily the road widened right where every direction but back was blocked by a gate, so I was at least able to turn around to back track. At this point, I decided to go to the race website for directions.
I arrived at the race site 15 minutes later. Along the way I did notice that the roads in Martindale are in horrible shape. Not just chip-sealed, but badly repaired pot holes or not repaired potholes everywhere, and roads where you couldn’t really tell if they were supposed to be paved there was so much loose gravel.
Oddly, they had us parking along the side of the road instead of in a field. OK. Then I heard the guy that directed me to park say to the guy in the car behind me, “You know the bike is cancelled…”
Wait. What?!
I thought that maybe he knew the guy behind me and was just busting his balls, but I asked, “Now, what is all this about the bike?”
“Oh, yeah. They called the bike. There is too much standing water on the road and you wouldn’t be able to see the potholes. Didn’t you get the email.”
A few things: The email was sent at 3 o’clock in the morning. I got up at 3:45. No, I did not check my email. Do you people check your email first thing in the morning? I get about 150 useless emails every day. Send me a text. I might have seen that*. I get far fewer texted from folks I don’t know than I do emails (seriously, you folks check you email first thing in the morning?! Really?). *I can’t even guarantee I would have seen the text, though. I was more intent on checking the coffee maker.
The way these weather event cancellations usually go is first they cancel the swim. This is usually because there is lightening in the area and you cannot legally start a race if there is a lightening strike within 6 (I think) miles within a 1/2 hour of the start time. When there is a lightening strike, the race director literally start a timer and watch it for a 1/2 hour. The race would be delayed at first, but due to the rest of the race timing (specifically the road closures for the bike) if the dangerous weather didn’t let up eventually, they would cancel the swim. THEN if the weather is still terrible, they will wait a while to see if it clears up before eventually calling the bike.
Once they call the bike pretty much everyone goes home, but the race director may offer the opportunity to just do the run if the weather finally clears up and time permits it. So, it is really rare that the bike will be called before the swim (at Germany Ironman a few years ago, there was a snowstorm overnight in the mountains and the roads were unpassable so they called the bike, but the swim and run were at lower altitudes and thus, able to go on).
But OMG, if the roads are in such horrible conditions that there concern wasn’t just that there were numerous dangerous potholes, but just that with the rain the riders could not see them to avoid them, maybe it isn’t such a great idea to even schedule a bike race on those roads. This isn’t supposed to be a cyclocross race.
Finally, the bike is the only thing I am good at! The bike is also the longest part of the race, so, while my swim in terribly average, I can usually make it up on the bike then hold my own on the run. If I knew the bike was cancelled – 24 miles of this 31 mile race – I would have stayed in bed. (Some of my friends were doing a relay race, so they got up a few hours before dawn to drive down to the race, and Jon, who was supposed to do the bike leg, was instead put in charge of drinking beer and hanging out in the team tent).
But, here I was, so onward and upward… Looks like I will be doing a Aquathalon.*
I set up my transition area, which looked naked without my bike, helmet, cycling shoes, etc… I placed my running shoes, race number belt, visor (good to keep both sun and rain out of your eyes) and sunglasses under a small towel to keep them dry. I debated whether to wear sunglasses since you never know if the sun is going to come out in the next 1/2 hour and decided to make that call when I got out of the water.
The swim start was a time trial start. So each person would enter the water individually with about 5 seconds between each start. You were timed according to the time you entered the water.
The race director called us to line up. Anyone whose swim pace was 1 minute per 100 meters in the front. OK, this is no one (the Olympic record for a 100m swim is 47 seconds by Michael Phelps, just 13 seconds faster than a 1:00/100m and we would have to do it 15 times for 1500 meters).
Then he called for anyone who swims 100m in 2 minutes. This is pretty much the average swim pace, so effective almost everyone. We all started arranging ourselves in a line.
Finally, 3 min/100m. This is very slow and going to be mostly people who lack confidence in there swim and don’t want to be near any other people, so not many folks.
Since I am very average, I tried to line up with the 2:00/100s but there were so many people in that range I had no idea where to seed myself. Screw it, I’ll just get in the back. There are not so many people in the race that I won’t be able to pass/get out of the way of the other swimmers.
The water was warm. Like really warm. Maybe 82-85 degrees and felt even warmer because it was cool outside. But even when I was swimming I thought I felt cold drops hitting my face when I would turn to breathe. Then, at one point when I looked up to sight on the turn buoy, I realized it was pouring rain. Visibility wasn’t great, but the swim route was in a long skinny water-skiing lake, so it wasn’t like I was going to get lost. And since I was fully submerged it wasn’t like the extra rain water was bothering me.
My swim was just as average as I thought it would be. Right at about 2:00/100m (and according to my watch the swim was a tad long, about 100m).
I ran out of the water into transition and ya know how I said it was pouring? Well, that towel “protecting” my shoes and visor was sopping wet. Like, wring-it-out soaked… as were my shoes and visor.
I put on my shoes and grabbed my visor and race number belt and sloshed out onto the run course.
As bad as the roads are in and around Martindale, the brand new neighborhood where the run course was located was pristine smooth flat black-top. The 10k course would be two loops of the 5k/sprint course. And while it rained during most of the run, it remained cool. Cool and raining is not a bad situation to have to run in.
I started out a bit slow, then got my grove and ultimately negative split (ran the second half faster than the first half), which is nice.
My time was good enough for an age group win. Woot!
My team and I were hanging around awaiting the awards ceremony and I was freezing. I noticed some folks were wearing jackets, but who thinks they are going to need a jacket in Texas on June 30? Crazy.
So, bummer on the cancelled bike, but otherwise a pretty good race overall.
Apparently, like I’ve heard about childbirth, you forget the pain. Once again, I signed up for the Death Ride Tour, a three day ride to raise money to fight ALS that starts in Silverton, CO and makes a loop to Telluride, Durango, then back to Silverton. 235 miles, about 16,500 feet of elevation gain over several mountain passes and other hills.
Unfortunately, I could not cajole, err, I mean “convince” any Texas friends to come with me this year (something about the word “death” in the title). But that is ok. Since this was my fourth ride in five years, I know several of the repeat riders and I’m a social butterfly. I’d find someone to hang out with (if only for the post-ride meals and beer, as I did end up riding my myself most of the weekend).
I flew into Durango on Thursday afternoon and rented a car to drive to Silverton (renting a small car was the cheapest way to get to Silverton, but the car would sit for the entire weekend until I had to go back to Durango). Since I was flying American I shipped my bike (via Shipbikes.com). I have a bike box and I am pretty efficient at dissembling and assembling my bike. American wanted $150 for the bike each way, Shipbikes did it for between $60 and $70 with $1000 insurance (on the way back I needed to have them drop it at a residence which is a few bucks more). I printed out the labels at home for both directions, so I could ship it back with ease.
In Silverton I was staying at an old-timey bed & breakfast. When I got there I saw that the only way to get to the rooms was straight up a narrow carpeted stairway (“Oh God, please don’t let them have delivered my bike up there!” I didn’t want to have to drag a 60 lb box back down).
As I was standing at the abandoned front desk wonder how to sign in, the FedEx guy comes up the stairs with his electronic pad. “Are you delivering a big bike box?” I asked. He replied, “I don’t know what’s in it but it’s a big plastic box.” Cool!. “That’s mine,” I said, “I’ll sign for it… Oh, and don’t bring it up the stairs.” He was only so happy to comply.
I took the box into an empty lot up the street and assembled my bike, then threw the box into the trunk/back seat of the rental car. I easily carried the bike up the stairs then to my room. Score!
After settling in, I headed across the street where there were several eateries to see if anyone was around who wanted to grab a bite or a beer. Never to be disappointed, I did find some folks in a local brewery who were doing the ride. We shared some pizza and had a few beers then decided to go “bar hopping” in Silverton (Pop. 650). We headed over to Avalanche (the other brewery in town) then to some dive bar that I cannot even find on the interwebs (and I don’t remember the name of). At this point it was 10:00pm which is 11:00 pm Austin time and I was about to turn into a pumpkin, so I begged off to get to bed. The fellas I was hanging with were going out at 8:30 the next morning for a tune-up ride and I gave them my phone number so I could join them.
Colorado is not like Texas. In Texas in June you wake up and it is hot and humid. During the day it gets hotter and a bit less humid. In Colorado in June you wake up and it is 40 degrees with no humidity, through the day it gets to about 75-80 degrees and it generally will rain for 20 minutes (usually when you are descending a mountain pass???) but then, no more humidity. Also, there seemed to be a lot of snow in the mountains for June (are people usually skiing in June?)
I had to figure out how I would dress for the ride. An 8:30am ride up to the Molas Pass and back would give me a pretty good idea. Molas Pass is a 6.5 mile climb with 5% average grades. While it might be 40 degrees in the morning, when you are climbing you just don’t get cold. However, when you are descending you can get really cold. I never heard from the guys, but they had indicated that they would also be climbing Molas, so I figured I would see them at some point on my ride (spoiler alert: nope. stood up!). I put on cycling shorts and a shirt, some fingerless gloves, then my warmfront chest warmer and a light windbreaker jacket.
I determined that I was way over-dressed on the way up, even though a the pass summit the restroom building had snow up to its roof! I’d sweated through all my underclothes, so then felt way, way undressed (and wet) on the way down. So the plan was that I would put my warmfront and windbreaker in my back pocket and only don them for the descents (that worked out pretty good all weekend).
After my ride I volunteered stuffing packets with the ride crew since I didn’t have anything else going on and I figured they could use some hands. There I met all the folks who would be manning the rest stops (good folks to know).
By Saturday morning I was ready to get started!
Day 1:
So Day One is only three hills from Silverton to Telluride (ha-ha!). Each hill is over 10 miles long, though – 72 miles and 5400 feet of climbing:
Red Mountain pass, the first blip on the elevation map, is really not that bad. The views are amazing and you just find a good gear and grind it out. While driving mountain passes in a car is a bit scary (or horrifying) it is really not bad on a bike because you can appreciate that you actually have a lot of room before the deadly no-guard-rail plummet. However, this does no mean I am not a total wimp on the 20 miles of descent. At a certain speed, I start imagining all the horrible things that can happen so I grip my brakes and descend like an old lady. This is not a problem at all for the kamakazi localswho would descend at 40+ mph on turns like this:
oh. hell. no. And as if to prove my point, I hit a pothole on my way down just before the tunnel (at the halfway point) and got a front end blow out. Good times! Luckily, I wasn’t good too fast (because I am a wimp on descents) and was able to stop without wiping out. Which just goes to reinforce my wimpiness on descents.
The nice thing about the Red Mountain Pass is that it ends in Ouray (pronounced either OO-ray, OH-ray, or Yur-ay depending on who you are talking to). Ouray is a great little town with hot springs and coffee shops and other neat stuff. Of course we do not stop there, but it is good to grab bite or some coffee.
Dallas Divide (starting at mile 32) is 12 miles of fresh headwind hell. While the average grade is only about 4%, as you can see on the elevation map that there is a significant part (over 5 miles) that is steeper than that (actually 5-7+%). But there is also the added bonus of the headwind pushing against you and the deceptive curves that make you think you are almost done (hint: you are never almost done). Then, when you finally crest and think you will be rewarded with a break of sweet, sweet downhill for 13 miles… Psyche! Headwind! So you have to pedal the whole way down. The unanimous consensus based on my scientific polling was that Dallas Divide sucks!
Finally, there is the climb from Placerville to Telluride, which is another 14 miles of climbing. The first 9 miles are really pretty through Sawpit, but the last 5 or so miles are just plain tough after a long day. The best thing that could be said about this climb is that it is not the Dallas Divide!
After a long day in the saddle I got to my hotel, and took a quick shower before heading directly to the large outdoor hot tub, where some new friends were happy to share their beer. Yay! After the hot tub, I went to the group dinner, but I was exhausted. I didn’t get back to my hotel until 10:00pm where I immediately went to bed and then… didn’t sleep. Apparently, there is something in that area of Colorado that I am allergic to, but I was afraid to take a decongestant since it was so dry and I was already dehydrated. I figured if I hit some Robitussin they would find a pile of dust in the bed by morning.
The first day is really the toughest but on an elevation map the second day, while the longest, looks pretty easy (lookit that 40 miles of downhill!). Ah, but looks can be deceiving…
Day 2:
Piece of cake!
So, the next morning I was told that we could leave whenever we wanted, but there was a warning to leave early since it was the longest day. I did not set my alarm and while I was up all night, I managed to not wake up in the morning until 7:00am. By the time I had gotten my poo together for an 8:00am departure, I had missed the luggage van (in the DRT’s defense, there was a note that the van would be leaving at 7:15, in my defense I did not read any of the ride material). There were several folks that were supporting the ride and David* was kind enough to take my bags and get them to Durango.
*David broke his neck in February so he was supporting us by dressing as an angel at the pass summits instead of riding (although he did do the Death Ride Challenge last year, which is he entire three day ride in one day).
So I set out on my own, not realizing that I was probably the last person to leave until I started passing some of the other late starters and slower riders. Once it was apparent that I was “late” I determined that I could not be the last person to finish that day, dang it!
Angels (actually David) waiting at the Summit of Lizard Head Pass
The rolling hills to Lizard Head pass were actually pretty fun. And by the time I got to the summit of the pass I had a few folks behind me. The drop from Lizard Head to Rico was pretty fun and fast, but after that, even though you are definitely going down hill, it doesn’t feel that way due to the relentless headwind. Then because you “know” you should be going faster you tend to push the pace. This stretch is tougher than it looks, but can be a good time if you are in a pace line. Did I mention that I woke up really late? Yeah, it was all me, no pace line.
Now about 10 miles outside of Delores is the infamous Hwy 145 Memorial Rock. Because we are all just a bunch of kids at heart, most of the group was really excited to actually experience the rock in person. Unfortunately, when we got to the rock the grumpy construction worker wouldn’t let us play on it (something about blocking traffic in a construction zone). Boo! But I did get to see the Rock and got a crappy picture of it.
Everyone was pretty wiped out when we got to Delores (and I was told that there was 30 folks behind me, so I felt like I was at a good place). There was a rest stop and a sandwich place and a lot of folks took a longer break once we got here. After Delores there is a climb to get to Mancos. What’s funny is after all that not so sweet downhill, the climb to Mancos was fun and gorgeous. The next 20 miles was my favorite part of the ride!
Out of Mancos is where the fun starts. While they may not be the biggest climbs of the day, we haven’t really been climbing for several hours and everyone is tired. The thing that kept me going was thinking about the sweet downhill into Durango. The last ten miles has a huge smooth road shoulder, with a 6% downhill grade with no switchbacks, but some gentle turns.
Weeeeeeeeee!
I had a good ride even though I was alone almost the entire time. When I got to Durango, I stowed my bike at the host hotel, then walked over the my AirBnB just .7 miles away. Since I would be flying out of Durango on Tuesday, I figured I would stay in Durango Monday night. This way I could bring a small bag with a change of clothes to Telluride, but leave everything else at the AirBnB.
After a successful but challenging 111 miles to Durango without incident, I got to my AirBnB and proceeded to almost immediately fall down some stairs. I guess I was pretty limber from my day of biking because, inexplicably, I did not get hurt but for a couple of bruises. Since I bruised my hand I thought it very important to get something cold on it, so I went into town for a beer before dinner.
After dinner I got back “home” at about 9:30 and fell into the oh-so-comfotable bed…and did not sleep, again! Seriously, I need some good sleep! but the air is so dry and my nose is all stuffed up.
A lot of folks were worried about Day 3 because, as easy as Day 2 looked on the elevation map, Day 3 looks hard. But Day 3 is the shortest funnest day!
Day 3:
See, Day 3 has a lot of climbing and very little down hill. But Day three is only 52 miles (less than half Day 2). And that hideous looking ascent from mile 20 to mile 38 is really not that bad, at least to mile 30. And that flat first section is fun and fast and a bunch of us will usually race it.
I went out with the lead group and once we got out of town we hit it like madmen. I took my turn pulling the group and when I tapped off I realized there were only four of us in the lead group; 2 gals, 2 guys (which is a pretty sweet ratio). By the time I took my second turn pulling there were only three of us: 2 gals, 1 guy. Woot.
We raced to the bridge (which is where the hill starts) and I can say we beat the Durango/Silverton Steam Train to the bridge, so winning ! ( I knew I would not beat it uphill – the Iron Horse Classic is a separate ride on the same route a month earlier from Durango to Silverton where the cyclists race the train).
Once we got on the climb, I slowed down (obviously) in both pace and effort. This was my fourth Death Ride Tour and I was surprised at how fast I got to Purgatory, so I guess I must be getting better at this. This is the end of the not-steep climb before the 6 miles of 6-7% graded climb up Coal Bank Pass. That one stings a bit.
The climb up Coal Bank pass is over 6 miles and while beautiful, it is tough. Then there is a little 3 mile respite (aka a scary brake gripping downhill), then a four mile climb to Molas Pass which isn’t as bad as Coal Bank pass, then 6 miles of downhill into Silverton and the end of the ride.
Before I knew it, I was back in Silverton socializing, eating a burger and drinking a beer.
I took a minute to break my bike down and pack it up. I was going to call Shipbikes to pick it up from the host hotel the next day, but as I was rolling the box across the street the FedEx truck pulled up. I asked if he could just take it as it was pre-labelled and I was going to call to have them pick it up the next day. He said, “Well, since you didn’t make me carry it up the stairs last week, I’ll just take it now.” Score!
I hung out in Silverton for a few more hours before heading back to the Airbnb in Durango, where once again I could not sleep (shakes angry fist). And flew home on Tuesday (I immediately fell asleep on the plane and did not wake up until we landed at DFW).
The Death Ride Tour is a great challenging ride for a great cause. The logistics can be a little tough since you need to arrange your lodging in three different cities over the weekend and getting to Silverton can be a long drive or an expensive flight. But this is such a great ride with such fun, dedicated folks that I would totally recommend it for experienced cyclists who love a challenge, and hills.
I can’t believe that I have never done a Decker Half Marathon race report before. Decker is the 1/2 marathon everyone in Austin loves to hate. It is not scenic at all (unless you find discarded mattresses to be scenic), the weather is usually awful (too hot, too cold, freezing with rain), and it they didn’t put “Challenge” in the title for nothing (its’ pretty hilly). I did my first “Decker” In 2007 and did my 7th this year. It’s horrible. It’s tough. But I keep coming back. So, lemme tell you about it…
So the Decker Challenge is a half marathon 13.1 mile run around Decker Lake (Walter E Long Lake) in East Austin. Well, kinda around the lake. You can’t actually see the lake at any point on the run, but you are running on the roads around the lake. so, yeah, there is no scenic lake view.
This year’s race was on December 9, 2018 and started at 8:00am (there is also a 5k that started at 8:15 or 8:30 or something, I dunno). While I had recently had some issues with my right hip, my Chiro, John Tuggle seemed to have that under control for me for this race (fingers crossed). The race time weather was predicted to be 38 – 45 degrees with 15mph winds which, while a bit windy, is really not bad running weather. It is terrible standing around in your running clothes weather, however. I opted for my race culottes (do people other than old people call them that any more?) – you know, the spandex running shorts that go down to the top of your calves, a 50/50 cotton/poly long sleeve shirt, thin wool ankle socks, cheap fleece gloves, a visor, my tiny iPod and a 10 oz bottle of Gatorade so I could skip the aid stations. After I arrived and used the restroom, I needed to go back out to my truck and dang near froze to death in that wind, so I grabbed by buff (which is just a cotton tube that fits loosely around your neck, but that you can pull up over your face and ears if it gets too cold).
I have run in weather in the 30’s recently, but I just couldn’t remember what clothes worked best, but I was pretty sure I would be fine. Everyone says, “Oh, just layer!” but I would rather freeze or sweat to death then run carrying a bunch of extra clothes (also, it is virtually impossible to get shirt over your head while running wearing a visor, sunglasses and an iPod).
Me, trying to take a shirt off while running
The race starts at the Travis County Expo Center parking lot. 950 of my new best friends and I huddled in the warmth inside until 5 minutes before the start when we headed out to the starting line for the Star Spangled Banner.
My 1/2 marathon race plan is always the same, start out slow, then see what happens. I lined up with the 2 hour pace group. They actually have folks who will run a certain pace for the whole race, so you don’t have to think about your pace if you have a specific time goal. You just stick with these folks. And they are good, usually within a minute of the promised time. At Decker they had pacers for the following finish times:
1:40 (7:38 min/mi)
1:50 (8:23 min/mi)
1:55 (8:46 min/mi)
2:00 (9:09 min/mi) <— my starting group
2:05 (9:32 min/mi)
2:10 (9:55 min/mi)
2:20 (10:41 min/mi)
2:30 (11:27 min/mi)
2:40 (12:12 min/mi)
I planned on running with the 2 hour group for the first three miles then see how I felt and speed up (hopefully). While it sounds counter intuitive, it is really hard to keep a slower more relaxed pace at the beginning of a race. Everyone is full of energy and anxious, and lots of folks want to bank some time in case they get tired at the end of the race. So lots of folks go sprinting out of the gate leaving you, the faster runner, behind. But if you go out too hard, you will eventually blow up and end up dragging-ass the last several miles. Any time you think you are banking by going out fast you WILL lose before the end of the race. …Yeah, no one believes that for their first several races, but trust me on this one. Actually, go to a 5k that has a Kids 1K Fun Run and watch the kids go gleefully sprinting out at the start gun, then watch their parents carry crying children to the finish line. It’s like that but with more cussing and excuses.
I hooked up with my running buddy Kim Gutierrez right at the beginning and told her my strategy. She decided to pace off of me so we would both have company.
The race finally started and we went out with the guy holding the little 2:00 flag.
They generally look like this
…and started running directly into the wind. Freaking brr! I was glad I had grabbed that buff because it was pretty cold with the wind blowing in your face while you are trying to warm-up. We ran through the Expo Center parking lot and out onto Decker Lake Lane, then turned onto Decker Lane where we would run for a while. When I passed the 3 mile marker I picked the pace up a bit to see how it felt. It felt alright. 2 Hour Pace Guy was right on target (in retrospect, perhaps I should have introduced myself). My 5k split was 28:23 or 9:09 minute miles (Told ya he was good).
Miles 1-4 are pretty uneventful. There are long rolling hills, but really nothing very steep at all.
At Mile 4 we turned onto Lindell and finally out of the wind. I picked it up a bit more to about an 8:20 pace, but here the hills are a bit shorter and steeper. This road is about a mile long and this is where you get to see most of the discarded nasty furniture. Yay. Also, this is where I realized that I really did not need that buff as my neck was sweating. But I was committed, there was no way I could get it off over my head while running, so it would stay.
At Mile 5ish you make a sharp right run and hit the first nasty hill. It is not very long, but it is steep. I powered up the hill (because you don’t want to look weak, oh, and I love hills), then had a nice down hill to recover, but not for too long before the next long uphill section, and so it would go for the next 6 miles.
At the top of the next hill was the Gilbert’s Gazelles Water Stop. The Gazelles volunteer to man a water stop every year and they also happen to be my running group (also, my friend Kim’s). If I could have gotten that buff off, I could have left it with one of my training buddies.
My running mates cheered us on and Gilbert beat a big drum (because, of course he did). Woo-hoo!
Just past the rest stop was the 10k mark. I hit it at 54:35 or 8:48 min/miles.
There is then a long gradual downhill respite. As I ran down that hill at about Mile 7, a hole appeared in the big toe of my right sock. Oh, goody. Something for me to concentrate on as I try to pull my toe back into said sock to avoid the inevitable blister, but you can’t slide your foot back in your sock while running down hill and, come on, it’s my big toe. That sock isn’t going anywhere, but gradually over my toe. Mind over matter, but damn it!
At Mile 7 1/2, you get to run along the 130 Toll Road from the Bloor Exit to the 973 Exit. If you are unfamiliar with this area, it is another long hill a little more than a 1/2 mile of just up, up, up. I was pushing the pace a bit here, but I felt alright and there were only 5 miles left to go.*
*Alex, I’ll take “ridiculous things runners say” for $500.
I knew I would have a recovery down hill run once I got to the top, and as I crested the hill my left hip started tweaking like it might cramp up. Well, this took my mind off my big toe. No. No. No. No. This could not happen. This isn’t even my bad hip! It was in a weird place where I have never gotten a cramp before, but right on the outside of my hip socket -a place where, if it cramped everything would lock up, it would be over for me and I would probably fall down. Mind over matter, it’s all in my head, I drank more Gatorade hoping the electrolytes would calm the pending cramp.
At the bottom of this hill is, well of course another little hill, then when you crest that hill you can see Quadzilla, the last biggest hill! My hip seemed to calm down while I was climbing the hill, but running down I could feel that twinge. You will not cramp!
.4 Miles of Uphill Joy
As we started to climb Quadzilla, I said to Kim, “Last big hill!”
“It’s the worst!” she replied.
“But not the steepest.” I said in my cheeriest voice.
“It’s the longest…” Kim offered.
Cut me some slack here, girl. “It’s the LAST!”
I’m just gonna say, we did pass a bunch of people on Quadzilla and, Kim can correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t think anyone passed us.
I hit the 10 mile marker at 1:25:19 or 8:31 min/miles, so I’m still speeding up!
The great thing about a race with a bunch of big hills is that it makes the little hills seem not-so-much like hills, so the last 3 miles of rolling hills didn’t seem that hilly. Of course, my hip felt otherwise, so anytime I changed my gait, that left hip threatened to seize-up and I had to talk her down.
We did have to pass the place where we exited the park on Decker Lake Lane at the start of the race, then re-run the first mile of the race to enter the park from the Decker Lane side. So, we got to enjoy the headwind again in the last 1 1/2 miles of the race. When I turned into that wind, I was suddenly freezing as my neck and chest were wet from sweating in my unnecessary buff. So, I guess, I was happy I had my buff to keep my wet neck and chest warm in the wind, but if I had not had my buff, my neck wouldn’t have been all sweaty, so I likely would not have needed it.
At this point my friend Steve passed me. I tried to keep up, but just couldn’t stay on his heels. Dang it! Apparently, we were running pretty close to each other the entire race. In fact, Kim and Steve’s finish times were within 17 seconds of mine.
The last half mile is a zig-zagged run through the parking lot of the Expo Center. It’s up hill and alternatively into the wind, but at this point I am going to be done in under 5 minutes, so I really don’t care. Normally, here is where you dropped the hammer and just go for broke. I was still worried that my hip was going to cramp, but I was able to increase my speed during this final half mile. I crossed the finish line at 1:52:17 or 8:33 min/miles (so slowed down a bit from my 10 mile pace, but overall a negative split on the race – I ran the second half of the race faster than the first half).
As soon as I stopped running, my hip stopped acting like it was going to cramp (imagine that?!). And actually I felt pretty good. Maybe it was the post-race cookies.
Overall, the course was as challenging and scenic as it ever was, but the weather was actually pretty good. So, I rate it 👍👍 or ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ and would definitely recommend it for folks who like a challenging race.
I heard about the Carnival of Venice 5k/10k/Half Marathon through Team RadioActive. This was a nighttime race. I usually run in the dark (albeit early morning) so I loved the idea of nighttime race. And this one was on Friday night in San Antonio. I got on Facebook and recruited as many fools friends as I could. Jill, Elle, Judy, Dan and I signed up. Judy, Dan and I decided to get to San Antonio before the Friday evening rush hour, so we had plenty of time to kill once we got to the race sight. We even volunteered helping set up some of the lights that would be used along the course.
Since the race started at 8:00pm we would need to eat beforehand. I know what I usually eat before a race: oatmeal, PB&J or a bagel, but that is at my house in the morning. For a night race, I had to figure out what would be safe. I determined something like a sandwich would probably work. Dan volunteered that he wanted pizza. “That sounds like a horrible idea!” was my response, yet, somehow we ended up at an Italian place where I could get a Panini which translates to “sandwich” in Italian.
I was thinking “sandwich” like turkey and cheese on a roll, whereas the Italians were thinking either some combination of salami, pepperoni, capocolla, and mortadella, or a ball of meat, or some fried food (eggplant, chicken, veal), with red sauce and mozzarella cheese on buttered ciabatta bread. I opted for a chicken parmigiana, which seemed like the best of a menu of bad ideas. Besides, I would have several hours to digest before my half marathon. Dan opted for a pizza, and from what I could tell Judy ate three pieces of lettuce off her salad.
By the time we got back to the race sight, Elle and Jill were there studying the map intently.
This race was on a golf course. In order to get 6.2 or 13.1 miles out of a golf course the map looked like this (with the half marathon being two loops, and for the 6.2 there was one cut through near the end to take off about 1/2 mile since one half of 13.1 is not 6.2, but 6.6 ish):
what could possibly go wrong?
I glanced at the map and just hoped the course would be really well marked, otherwise, I doubted I would ever be seen again.
We found some comfy chairs and talked among ourselves waiting for the race to begin.
the happy “before” picture
The Half Marathon started at 8:00, the 10k started at 8:30, and the 5k started at 9:00. Jill and I were doing the half, while everyone else in our group was doing the 10k.
I had my reflective shirt on and a clip on visor light. While this is not the biggest brightest light, it does light the ground about 10-15 feet in front of me to keep me from tripping over stuff in the dark. As I said, I run in the dark all the time so I know this light suits my purposes fine. Besides, we would be running on a golf course on the golf cart path, which should be in good condition.
We lined-up, sung the national anthem, then the gun went off. While I had been dilly-dallying, I forgot to set up my heart rate monitor or Garmin and as we all know, if it’s not recorded it didn’t happen. I quickly started everything as I ran over the start line hoping my Garmin would quickly hook up to the GPS satellite.
I knew this would not be a fast half marathon as I have been slowly ramping up my speed and distance this year after a year plagued with injuries, but I was hoping to run a 9:15 min per mile pace. I started out on pace and felt pretty good. Got passed a lot, but that was ok, I was here for the experience and to run my own race.
I thought the course was well marked, flat and safe, and my light was adequate for the run as I could see the path ahead of me. There was one sketchy part where we ran over a part of the river where the walkway was offset and narrow and there was a random step in the middle of it. I remember thinking, “Err, that’s not good.” and put a mental check to be careful my second loop, but was able to circumvent it without issue.
Everything was going great until about mile 5 when my stomach was not feeling right. A little crampy, a little burpy. I slowed down about a minute a mile hoping it would pass.
It didn’t. I completed my first loop in just under and hour, but was feeling worse as I started my second loop. I briefly considered bailing on the race. I knew there were port-o-johns ahead and considered stopping to vomit, but the 5k’ers where lined up for their 9:00 start and I did not want to have to jump into that crowd coming out of the bathroom (but really, who was I kidding, at this point they would have run right by my slow nauseated ass).
By mile 8, I was much worse and slowed even more. I was trying to hold on until the course turned onto a dark road with lost of bushes because I did not want to barf on the golf course. So, yeah, by mile 9 I was walking dry heaving and barfing. My hope was that once I could get rid of the Italian food, I would be able to bounce back and have a 1/2 decent run.
That didn’t happen either.
In my heart of hearts, I was hoping that Dan was barfing, too.
After getting rid of dinner, while I was not actively heaving, I was still cramping and had those nausea-sweats (very different from when your just sweating because you’re hot). I was able to start running again, but now I was running 12 minute miles (and I was really trying to run fast). Another problem was that now my stomach was empty and I had been running for an hour and a half. I really should have been eating something, but there was no friggin’ way I was going to be able to put any type of food in me, so I had the added benefit of starting to bonk. But I’m gonna be honest, my stomach was so upset that I couldn’t even tell if I was bonking.
I have never been so tempted to cut a course in my entire life, and that course would have made it easy as there were multiple places to make the course shorter or take a short cut to the finish line, but no. I would not be dissuaded!*
*So last week was the Boston Marathon, and the weather was horrible – rainy and freezing. I read this article about why women don’t quit. I couldn’t let my gender down!
So I ambled on the last two miles, while getting passed by the costumed runners and some fast walkers.
It wasn’t pretty.
remember mile 9 included vomiting
I crossed the finish line then laid in the grass in the fetal position for about 15 minutes waiting for the nausea to pass (it didn’t), before making my way over to my friends. I really expected to start feeling better once I stopped moving, but it actually took several hours before I felt better.
While my splits would indicate that I missed a 1/2 mile somewhere, I swear I did not cut that course (hell, if I cut the course it would be for more than a measly half mile). I think this may have been due to my late, rushed start of my Garmin which did not immediately pick up the GPS satellite.
Would I do this race again? Hell yeah, I would. But I would definitely never eat anything as heavy as Italian food before a race.
Oh and God smited (smote?) Dan. He sprained his ankle on that sketchy bridge at mile 3.
jredtripp 