Ready for Part 2? Sure you are! When we last left our hero (still me, guys), I was on my way out to the bike portion of World's after a decent wetsuit free swim and a little bit of a foreboding sky. I rode with that black sky to my right for a bout a mile, then turned the heck away from that thing - with six miles to go in the opposite direction, it was totally going to go away, right? RIGHT? Well, either way, that wasn't mile 1 Rae's problem. That was at least mile 10 Rae's problem, so we would address it then.
This bike course did one of two things - you were either climbing, or descending. There might have been about 5 miles of flat road somewhere, but I doubt it. The first half of the course offered three punchy climbs and one long one, with a few screaming descents. The second half was rolling until mile 40, where there was a 7 mile climb up Snow Canyon, with over 1000 feet gain in 4 miles. (Rumor had it some athletes walked this section. We drove it Friday and were underwhelmed, but that was in a car). Then the last 8 miles were another screaming descent that reminded me of Keene in Placid, just a little less windy. I was hoping to redeem my crappy descending skills and not lose my shit like I did in 2018 at Placid. But hey, I reasoned, we couldn't possibly have a day like that anyways - it doesn't hail in the desert! (Rae, stop. Foreshadowing is totally a thing).
Back to race day. The first seven miles of the bike were pretty sweet - We had a few rollers, one decent climb I spun out, and a nice out section where I flew on the flats, going about 25. Hell. Yeah. I was smiling and totally enjoying myself, surprised to be rocking Aero with so many people around me (who's a badass? ME!). The first turnaround was pretty tight, so I slowed down and took it conservatively, and started to head back toward the main highway.
Except OMFG what just happened. As we turned, the wind slammed into us with a force I've never ridden in before. I was on a flat, going 10, and feeling like I was going to be blown backwards. The wind had turned on full force, and was whistling at us as those damned black clouds honed in. Packs of women were struggling and going nowhere. I tried valiantly to steer my bike without blowing over. Tumbleweeds were whipping backwards and one got caught in my wheel, which I pulled over for and unstuck. I checked to see if I had any brake rubbage but nope. Nope. The weather just sucked that much. Then it started to rain Not nice gentle, oh look, you're warm, let me cool you off rain either - crazy stupid cold rain. As I headed up the ramp to veer right on the high way, I saw bunches of riders pulled over to the side of the road and thought....well, they are calling the race. I was bitterly disappointed - but with the whipping rain, lightning in the distance, and insane wind, it was the right call.
But...no, they weren't. People were just debating their life choices, which, I didn't blame them. I looked down at my bike computer and had gone 3 miles in 15 minutes. On. A. Flat. Section. What the hell. Then, two things happened - the headwind, now that we turned, was a cross wind (weather reports later stated 25-30 mph with up to 50mph gusts) which meant this little 125 pound rider was being blown all over the place. And 2 - the rain - turned into hail. Oh what in the mother ever loving hell was this!
We were freezing. The rain had nowhere to go in the desert, so it had collected on the road and we were now hydroplaning. Decisions had to be made. I was averaging about 12, hunkered over my bike, wondering if I could handle 42 more miles of this. And then I said - NO. RAE. You are NOT going to have another Placid. You can DO this. DO IT. And with that sort of bullshit out of the way, I then did the smartest thing I did all day - I released any expectation from the course and just was grateful to be doing it. The race could be called any minute, lets just soldier through. You ARE HERE FOR A REASON.
The next 10 miles or so was the same misery - hail, wind, rain (no earth or fire though) - thankfully weturned again after 5 miles and dealt with another headwind. The rain let up about mile 20, where we did another crazy climb, then finally a turn to calmer weather. When you're dealing with wet and high winds, a less breezy 15mph cross wind seems...relaxed. I hit the first screaming descent conservatively, but not scared. And the next 20 miles of the ride followed suit - I hit aero where I could, took the climbs easy, and gave the descents all I felt comfortable giving with the wind and wet roads.
About mile 40, we got to Snow Canyon and the famed climb. I was averaging about 17.5, which honestly, was my course goal, but who knew what the next 8 miles would bring.
As we turned into the canyon, I passed a woman and joked "Well, I didn't have hail on my bingo card, did you?" And she laughed, because, what else could we do? I hit my little chain ring right off the bat - I knew I had burned a decent amount of mental matches early on, so honestly, I didnt give a crap about my speed at this point. I hit a few nice rollers and stretched into aero (where apparently there was a race photographer timed perfectly, as I got one of the few aero pics in the canyon! (I mean, uh, I was in aero the whole time. duh)). Then, without any warning, a woman about 6 feet in front of me, clearly not paying attention, plowed into the bike ahead of her and her disc wheel went flying in the air with her right after it. OMG. I managed to veer over in time and checked to see if she was okay, which, apparently her and the dude both were. I hope they finished okay.
Snow Canyon was....definitely more intense outside the car. I spun it out the whole time, but there were sections in the last 3 miles that saw us going about 5mph in the granny gear. I was never at a place to walk it but I saw plenty of people doing so. The worst part was the pack mentality - the course was really crowded (even with two hours of send off in the water, when you have 4,000 athletes, its a crowded course) and so when people got tired and started to weave, it was downright dangerous. I tried to stay to the left and kept my line straight while riding defensively. The last mile was brutal with 500 ft gain, but finally we turned right at mile 47, with only downhill left. Huzzah!
I got to enjoy this bit for about five minutes then....it started to rain again and the wind picked up. Oh what in the actual fuck, people. This is what we are doing?? Ugh. With that being said, I'm proud I never lost my shit here - I might have been descending a section where you could easily hit 40 at a paltry 25, but I was keeping my cool doing so. I kept repeating my new race mantra to myself - stay calm, stay fluid, stay strong - and the last 20 minutes were just a mental hurdle to get over. I also spent some healthy time cursing Ken out - apparently every race he's done in the last 3 years its rained. (Ken, I'm not racing with you ever. again.).
As I coasted into T2, the rain turned into a legit downpour and I happily dismounted my bike - not throwing it at a volunteer like I did three years ago, but saying a silent prayer of thanks that I made it off that ride okay!
Bike Split: 3:20 - 16.7 mph
I was actually shocked I was only 5 minutes off my time, to be honest. My power was only 140w, which tells me that I did nowhere near race effort, which wasn't a shocker. It also tells me that on a halfway decent (or normally lousy) day I could have killed it. The course was hilly, but aside from miles 45-47 was totally doable. That's what they get for having the damned bike course in a town called Hurricane, Utah, though. Seriously, people?
Post race analysis of the bike ride really came down to one question - where were you at 10am? For those riding with the storm, the damage was less. For those STILL IN THE WATER, 100 people were pulled out and not allowed to finish the swim. The pros - got none of this - they were almost done with the run at this point. The women caught the brunt of the storms on the bike for sure - but everyone's experience was different. Either way, for those of us that were dumb lucky enough to race Placid 2018 - we agreed that there was no comparison- this race was way the hell worse. It was dubbed as the World Championships everyone will be talking about for years to come. Sodus 2005, Placid 2018, Worlds 70.3 2021....Lucky. Freaking. Me.
And with that, I found my run back, grabbed a chair at T2, kicked my crap across the changing area (dammit!) and got my shoes on. I had been trying to pee since mile 40 of the bike unsuccessfully, so I hit the porta potty super quick - transition time 3:23 - and was off for a nice run in the rain! (To be continued....)
No comments:
Post a Comment