(Can You Take Me) High Enough?

If you thought you were in for a race report, I’m sorry to say even I’m not talented enough to make a 5k race last for an entire post (you’re welcome?)  Long story short, the Walworth 5k was both an epic bomb and success – I managed to snag 2^nd overall female, led the race for about a quarter mile, tried to keep up with the winner when she passed me about a half mile in, blew myself up doing so, and ended up walking part of mile 2 and watching her from just far enough away that I knew I would never catch her to finish 2^nd.  My overall time was 22:57, or a 7:29 pace, which is a PR for this hilly course but not a 5k PR.  The day was hot and humid, the whole race felt terrible, and I have no idea why I do 5ks.  Oh right, because they hurt.  And they will make me faster.  And because my friends encourage me to make terrible life choices. 

Said friends.  From left to right, the Outlaw, who came in first overall (I’m still waiting for my cut of the prize, since the race was my idea), The Boy, who came in 3^rd overall, and Greg (The husband!) who won his age group.  Despite my blow up and ego move that I know better on, it was a great morning, and we managed to log an additional 6 miles in warm up and cool down to cap off the day’s workouts.

Also of note this past weekend was Ironman Lake Placid 2019.  I can’t believe it’s been a year since I toed the line at my last 140.6.  All the pictures on Facebook of my friends doing the race, complimented with my “timehop” pics pf the years I raced  - 2018 and 2010 (first Ironman ever) have sent me into an introspective mood about tris and racing over the past few days.  

Best mile 1 of the run ever (Uh, I did not think through how to put him down...:-P)

As luck would have it, I had a trip on tap for Albany yesterday and today, so I had 7 hours in my car to overthink shit (yes, this is a good thing.)  I normally move at about a hundred miles an hour, so even though space to analyze my screwed up brain can be dangerous, it’s gotta be done.  I somehow managed to get stuck on a Pandora playlist of 80s tunes, and amidst Def Leppard, Poison, Warrant, Bon Jovi,  and Damn Yankees, I found myself jamming out (I totally have a shower and solo car singing voice and I’m not even apologizing for it) to “High Enough” quite a few times on the drive.  (I know this was recorded in 1990.  Get over it).

Even though Tommy Shaw was likely not talking about Ironman and Triathlon when he sang “High Enough”, I found myself applying the lyrics to the past year of my life as a triathlete. 

“We don’t need to talk about it anymore

Yesterday’s just a memory

Can we close the door

I just made one mistake

I didn’t know what to say

When you called me baby”

It’s really been a wild ride of a year, guys.  Last year at this time, I was seriously contemplating dropping the sport of triathlon for good, like a bad breakup.  I remember toeing the line at Ironman Lake Placid 2018, watching the incoming storm clouds over the mountains as I waited for the swim, feeling dread with the 112 mile bike ahead.  I remember swimming through the scrum in Mirror Lake, wishing that it would last forever so I didn’t need to start the ride.  I remember playing with my failed bike computer in T1, knowing that I would have absolutely no data for the ride or how fast I was going at any time.  

During the ride….clipping the cones at the first turnaround.  Going down the Keene Descent with sleet and crosswinds, gripping the bars and praying.  Of contemplating a DNF at mile 30, when I was so cold I couldn’t feel my fingers.  Mile 60, when a launched water bottle from the person in front of me caused my first bike crash of the day.  Of mile 80, when I dropped my chain…twice, and ended up sitting on the side of the road and looking for a way to bail (instead, I fixed the damned chain, of course).  And mile 100, when I remounted at an aid station, whiffed the mount, and dumped my bike and all my nutrition.  I remember rolling into T2, almost 8 hours after starting the bike, with my slowest bike split of any of my three Ironman’s by over 45 minutes. 

Thankfully, I rallied on the run and had a fantastic marathon – not enough to make me feel better about my abysmal bike, but enough to finish somewhat strong and leave that….little niggle there.

After Ironman, I put my bike in a corner and myself in timeout from triathlons.  I needed to make a choice.

After 14 years of racing, I looked back at both my race results and my heart.  And looked for some answers.  I knew that I couldn’t stay in a sport where I genuinely dreaded the whole bike portion….which is at least half the race.  Or continue to pursue the concept of “racing” where my times were actually getting worse due to my debilitating fear of my two wheeled steed. 

Something needed to be done.  I needed to either put out or get out (That’s what she said?).  I made the decision to just do 2019 fully....to throw everything I had in my to get where I wanted so desperately to be.  And you know the rest.  Big Scary Goals.  Go get em.

And the rest of the journey, you have likely been following.  I won’t explain….It’s too long…. so let me sum up.  I did the things.  I met the people that did the things.  I started training with people that did the things faster and stronger.  I started listening to the people that were better at the doing the things.  I did the things by myself and with other people that scared the shit out of me.  I did them with fear.  And even though I was scared, I kept doing them over and over.

Here we are, one year out from Placid and seven months in to project #bigscarygoals.

It seems as good a time of any to talk about it.  Last year at this time I was ready to hand my bike off to the volunteer at Ironman T2 that racked it tell him I never wanted it back.  Ever.

I lied.

I knew that giving up triathlon would be giving away a piece of me that I had known for 14 years – most my adult life.  I also knew how damned much I loved it – the training, the racing, the people, the fun I’ve had.  I had to get back to that fun.  Where I jumped in the pool with my friends…went flying down the road on my bike to play, and end with a rousing game of tag – you’re it – I’m going to run you down!

You guys.  I found it.  After a year….I found the fun.  And I’m sure no one is surprised after my last few months, I’m happy to report that I am not, in fact, selling my bike and ditching the sport.

It took a lot to get here.  And shockingly, little.  I won’t account for the training hours, because that stayed consistent – I always trained.  Maybe not in the most effective way, but I was never afraid of hard work.  For the hurdle I faced, I had two major things to face – my mental state, and the way I perceived the sport.

I had to learn to be a kid again.  Not only to reclaim my love of the sport, but also in terms of relearning almost everything I thought I knew.  I had to relearn how to clip in my bike (apparently my pedals were terrible.  I’ve used these pedals for 12 years and had…no clue).  I had to learn to mount my bike.  I had to learn how to ride with the wind.  I’m still learning arrow aero and shifting.

The last two, you would think I would know by now.  The first three, I am sure you are shaking your head in disbelief at.  But I’m not here to sugarcoat any of this.  I think you all know I keep it real.  There is a sense that after you’ve been in the sport for years that there is nothing left to learn.  Yeah, right.  Once I got into the tabula rasa  mentality and realized that I not only could use advice from the 20 year veteran but also the 28 year old teammate that had been in the sport for 2 years, it changed the way I approached it.  Everyone has something to teach you if you’re a willing recipient.  It just takes the ability to realize that you don’t, in fact know everything.  It’s powerful stuff.

I also needed some serious mental undressing.  I needed to assess my fear, figure out why it existed, and relearn how to approach the scary things.  In my case, it was mix of fears – I’ve been hit by a car, so I assume every car is going to hit me.  I have a serious lack of coordination, so I’m sure that every time I shift, grab nutrition, or go in arrow aero that I will go all over the road and crash.  I also was afraid of speed – of going too fast and crashing.  This fear got worse after I had my second child in 2015—because not only was I going to crash and either maim myself or die with all the above, I was now going to leave my kids without a mom.

Seriously, you guys.  I swear I’m getting help for my anxiety.  I won’t lie, though.  I identified the fear, and I’m working on it.  I no longer fear the ride.  I’ve done a few group rides and although they are with guys that would help me out if I needed It, they also push me to face those fears.  I used to wait before clipping in for a ridiculous amount of time, deep breathing and trying to fight the paralyzing urge to ditch the ride.  I now mount the bike and take off.  It might not be pretty, but with repeated practice, I’m looking less like a drunken monkey and more like a tipsy monkey.  It’s progress.  The big difference is I am facing the fears I’ve identified – one by one.

It’s nowhere near perfect.  Everyt ime I hit a milestone, I celebrate amidst the good natured ribbing from my team about how I’m now an 8 car train wreck instead of 9.  And I laugh.  Because it really is funny, but also because I see the progress.  And it’s rewarding in many ways.  I’m getting better, of course – I’ve seen a drastic reduction in my times for the year and set huge PR’s in the Olympic and Half Ironman distances.  Now…I’m hungry.  Eager to see what I can do.  Intrigued to see the talent that others see in me.  Ready to do the work and see how far I can take this.

But most of all…it’s fun again.  I can’t wait to get out there and ride my bike.  To go for a swim.  To run.  And to grab a training buddy and get the work done while chatting about almost anything under the sun, and mixing my social life with the sport I love.  And that’s my selling point. This now my new release from life and what I like to do best – which is everything a hobby should be.

 So, that’s where I’m at.  Lake Placid 2018 was “Just a memory”….now it’s time to “Close the door”.  Damn Yankees said it best….

“Don’t say goodbye

Say you’re gonna stay forever”

Thanks Tommy Shaw.  Let’s see how high we can go this year.  Sky’s the limit!

Musselman 2019: I'm the Bad Guy

Well, hey there party people!  When we last left our hero (Um, I think that's me) she was about to take on a last minute 70.3 - Musselman, the everlasting evil race that I love to hate - the actual race is awesome, but between weather, bad decisions, and GI distress, I have never been able to pull off a good race execution.  Oddly enough, it represented 5/5 of my half Ironman attempts, with a 6:33 PR, back in 2011 (yikes),  so I did at least sign up for Barrelman for 2019, a half iron in September to break the damned streak and hopefully break 6 hours at the distance.  But as I've said in previous posts, I signed up for Musselman this year on a whim, as my buddies were doing it, I was sort of trained (swim and run, yes, bike, no) and honestly....I knew a good race at Musselman would allow me to set some good benchmark goals for Barrelman (my true A race for the reason) on September 22.

Famous last words, right?  The week before the race, I set a few tentative goals - I really had no idea what to expect.  I shot for a 6:10 - :38 swim (PR :40), 3:15 bike (PR 3:22) and a 2:10 run (PR 2:10).  I knew I could run faster if I rode smart, but since I had only ridden up to 44 miles and had done no substantial bricks....or practiced any sort of 70.3 nutrition...these goals felt safe.  Add in transitions, and a 6:10 was wise. (I did have the super secret goal of going under 6 hours, but didn't want to get greedy).  I shared my goals with my training buddies and Greg, who were pretty quiet about it and offered almost no thoughts on the matter (this isn't like them.  At all.  Shrugs).

The week of the race I rode outside as much as possible, took it easy on the run, and hit up mini mussel sprint tri the day before the race to cheer on Greg and the Reapers with the kiddos (we are the best sherpas)...picked up my packet, and headed home to race prep.

You know you smiled.  Admit it.

Race morning dawned not so god awful early - I caught a ride to the race with the Banter, who likes about 5 minutes in transition to prep.  I like a solid 90 minutes, so we agreed 30 minutes was sufficient.  I body marked, sunscreened, chipped, and got myself as ready as possible at home and he swung by to pick me up at 5:15.

Man I look amped.

We arrived at the race about 6:15, and pumped up our tires and headed into transition.  I set my stuff up with little fanfare, used the potty, said hello to our buddies - and a Happy Birthday to Matt!

Marcus, me, Maria, Matt (The Boy) and Ryan (The Outlaw)

After my initial set up, I ran through my final checklist - one of the fun little touches of this race is they ask you when you register for a motivational phrase that they hope you'll forget (which didn't work for me as I registered 3 weeks ago, but it's still a cool thought).  Apparently I decided to carry that "Big Scary Goals" theme and in case I forgot my real name was "Pants", I was good to go.

 I also found a super awesome inspo note that Greg slipped into my tri bag - since he was staying home with the kids, he wanted to give me his own little pep talk.  God I love that man!

As I did a double check to ensure my bike computer worked and my gears were where I wanted them, I discovered two things.  1 - my bike computer did not work at all,  and 2 - my back wheel was rubbing.  With about 2 minutes left in transition, I couldn't decide whether to cry or to try to grow up and solve the issue.  I gave it the ole college try - ignored the bike computer (which would be the second failure in two big races - Ironman Lake Placid and now...apparently the thought over a 3 hour plus ride freaked it out) and worked on the wheel.  Nothing.  So I did what I usually do when I can't figure out shit on my own - I found The Banter, who has saved my ass multiple times in the 9 months I have known him - he diagnosed the wheel as slightly misaligned, fixed it in about a minute, and wisely left my bike computer alone.  He is amazing and I do not deserve him - with that being said, I know now that 30 minutes in transition is not enough for this hyped up pre-race Rae and I'll likely either promise him a bigger bottle of wine next time or drive myself.

At this point is was 6:50 and I was slated to go off in 15 minutes....I literally ran to the water, wriggled into my wetsuit, stood by for the anthem, gave a few high fives, and did a super quick dunk in the water as they were calling my corral in.  I'm not sure if the lack of time freaked me out (I felt so not ready to race) or actually did good to get out of my own head space, but either way, it was time to FREAKING JUST GO!!

Swim:  37:34 (1:42/100) - actual distance swam 2189 yd (I suck at sighting)

My wave went off second of 6 waves - the swim for this race is a sort of rectangle out to Seneca Lake, ending in a canal for the last half mile.  The water was an absolutely perfect at 74 degrees - the biggest issue is the first 200 yards of the swim are about knee deep - so you either dolphin dive, run, or swim super shallow.  I've always chosen option A or B, but to save my legs, when the gun sounded, I dove right in and started swimming.  The out was a bit choppy, but not too bad.  I leapfrogged with a few women, and then settled in, as usual, to my own rhythm and lonely swimming about 10 minutes in.  I had a few issues spotting due to sun on the second turn, but I really don't have much to say about the swim except I honestly never felt like I was racing.  It was a nice, easy OWS that could have been a training day.  My watch is set to beep every 500yd and every 10 minutes (I really need to fix this, as I never remember which is which), so I had no idea about my time until I exited the water and looked down - a 37 minute swim was exactly on par, and I was super happy about it!  I ran into T1 with a smile on my race and ready to rock the bike - my true test of the day.

Bike:  3:05:11 (18.5 mph) - 57.11 actual distance cycled

Ahh, the bike.  I ran out of T1, mounted and rode off with little fanfare, and set out for my 56 (57) mile trek.  Oddly enough, I had no mental block going into this ride - usually I start to freak out about halfway through the swim, but I was actually looking forward to it!  I really think my increase in riding outdoors and outside my comfort zone have helped here.  I spun out easy for the first 20 miles, which are false flats, but with the wind at out back, averaged about 19.5, which was way over my goal of 17.5.  I'll take it.  I was on a time race not only with myself, but with The Banter - who started 25 minutes behind me - he is a faster athlete than I am, so this wasn't a true race, but my goal was to hold him off as long as possible (I gave him 10 minutes on the swim and about 3mph faster than me on the bike, so I figured I'd see him at mile 25 - 30 if I was lucky).  At mile 20 we turned onto a main road where you can fly - oh, wait, and there was the wind!  Shit.  We had a pretty decent cross wind at this turn, and with the traffic, I started to lose it a little bit.  I remembered all my outdoor riding techniques in the wind, but admittedly let a little bit get to my head, and burned a few matches from mile 20-28.  I passed a guy wearing nothing but an old school speedo, which was impressive and hilarious, and got a random song stuck in my head that would stay there for the rest of the race - Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy".  Which is a horrible song, but had a great cadence beat to it....I kept repeating to myself "I'm a Bad Guy....I'm Only Good at Being Bad"...(I don't know, perhaps this was to convince myself of my inner badness?)

We finally turned off the stupid wind road (that's its new name, I made it up, but it works) about mile 28, and had a nice easy, fast spin across to the next lake, with a great downhill that I DID NOT BRAKE FOR (Score!) and then turned on to shitty windy road 2.  I think I finally changed gears here (Yes, I know.  I need bike work.  I think "train wreck" really applies to my whole bike ability and we are assessing one car at a time) and slowed quite a bit on this split, averaging about 17.5.  I was still about 18.5-19mph overall at this point, according to my shitty watch math, as I had no basis for my ongoing speed or speed at any time unless I looked at my watch.  SMH.  Mile 30ish offered the only real climb on the bike, with a right turn and then a sharp uphill that tapered off for a half mile.  I did shift into my easiest gear on the big chain ring (guys, I KNOW) and motored up the hill, undoubtedly a stupid move but hey, it worked.

 The next 10 miles were a mental game - with the wind and the terrain, it was a slower go, but I had the benefit of experience and knew we would have a turn soon, so I took the time to actually shift into an easy gear, take in nutrition, and spin it out.  We turned onto a super busy road about mile 37, and my second mental block of the day - once again it was a stupid cross wind and I found myself gripping my bars trying not to lose my shit.  Thankfully it was a short stretch, and we got another beautiful windless descent at mile 40, where the Banter finally zoomed past me yelling "FINALLY!" (scaring the shit out of me, but I tried to recover and yelled something resembling encouragement, which apparently was terrifying and snarlish in it's execution.  Whoops).  Another great descent to mile 44 (no brakes, yay!) and we hit Sampson State park, which is great with the fact that it has no traffic at all, but the trail is half grass, half stones, and half gravel (yep, you read that right) so its a 5 mile stretch of bumpy ride, praying for no flats, and leapfrogging bikers.  We turned back on to the main road about mile 50, and the last 6 (7) miles of the ride were sort of a struggle - I ran out of nutrition and water at mile 51 (this was totally my fault and I need to learn to take a bottle hand off), and the winds from mile 53 on were headwinds which was just punishment at this point.  I had thought I might go under 3 hours for the ride, but I remembered it was a long course and not to push it too much at the cost of the run.  I rolled into T2 at 3:05, and nailed my epic flying dismount i had been practicing for ages.

Oh, wait.  That's not my race report, that was a fantasy.  Whoops.  I rolled into T2, got my right foot stuck unclipping, and completely fell on my ass. Checked to make sure it got on camera (it did - and video - thanks guys!), looked down for injuries, nada, hit lap on my watch, and ran into transition, where I spent way the hell too long looking for my damned spot (I need better markers).

OH!  BTW, ICYMI:

Oh yeah.  They got that on film.  Note that I am super amped about this being caught on camera.  I still crack myself up when I watch it.  Sorry, Banter.  I know.  I know. I'll work on it.

Run: 1:47:48 (8:06)

And now...IT WAS TIME TO DANCE! You'll see from the spoiler above that I need to stop setting my own run goals (I was off by 23 minutes WTF), but this one is totally worth discussing in more detail.  I ran out of T2 nutritionally depleted, so I slammed water and a gel, and threw on my race number and visor.  I flashed a thumbs up to our appropriately concerned teammates who now know how much I suck on the bike, and assured them that I was totally cool now that I was on my own two feet.  My legs felt crappy, as they always do off the bike, but I looked at my watch for overall time (3:49 with transitions) and knew that if I could pull off a 2:10 half, I would go under 6 hours - YESS!)  I decided to run the first 6 miles at about a 9 minute mile, then reassess after the stupid hill that no one runs at mile 7.  Yeah.  That worked until I hit mile one in 7:32.  Whoops.  I quickly devised a strategy of easy run to aid station, dump ice down my bra, take in water and every other station a gel, repeat.  Miles 2 and 3 clocked in at just over 8 minute mile, then the first unrunnable hill at mile 3 slowed that split to an 8:30.  I felt conflicted - I was working, yes, but I was so damned happy and felt good at the pace, so I continued to click off the miles at about an 8-8:15, too fast for me but hey, I now figured if I could go under 2 hours for the run, I might hit 5:50 for a finish time, which was something i had not even considered.

 I made a new running buddy at mile 4, Offo, who was my resident 45-54 year old dude that I always connect with during a race (seriously, this happens 75% of the time on long course - marathons, half ironmans, ironman - I seem to find a random dude in this age group and make a bestie while we run together).  Offo and I lasted until about mile 6.5, when i determined his pace was just slightly fast for me (though we did find each other again at mile 9 for 3 miles - thanks Offo!) At mile 6.5 I turned onto Stupid Hill Rd Barracks Hill Rd, which is the one part of the course that's about a half mile long stone path of unrunnable rocky crap.  I channeled my inner "Bad Guy" (yep, I had this song stuck in my head for about 4 hours) and tried to run until the steep part of the hill.  Up ahead I saw a familiar ass race kit - it was the Banter!  I had no expectations of catching him on the run (remember - he still had 25 minutes on me as I started first, so this had little bearing on our overall finish - he still dusted me).  I caught up with him and chatted for about a minute, where he praised me on having a fantastic race - I told him I was gonna bust that 6 hour mark and he yelled after me "Never doubted it!".  Onward.  I picked it back up to run and passed another tri buddy, Marcus, who wasn't having the best race but certainly powering through it - I tried to give him some encouragement - hopefully it worked.

As I reached mile 8, I knew the rest of the course was flat or downhill, and I began to tick off the miles at roughly an 8 minute mile."I'm a bad guy....(yes, song still stuck)"  I tracked down one woman at mile 9 I had been eyeing for several miles only to find out from her she was running the relay - she told me I looked ridiculously strong and too happy (seriously, people, its possible to go fast and be happy) and encouraged me on.  There was one more small hill at mile 10 - I looked at my watch and realized at that I could likely go under 5:40 if I pulled out 9 minute miles. WTF. I thought about my previous track record with the ":40's" - trying to go under 3:40 at the marathon (so close).  Trying to go under 1:40 at the half marathon distance (within spitting distance) and trying to go under 2:40 at the Oly distance (totally did it).  It seems as if this was a theme for the year, and now that we'd moved beyond the 6:10, to the 6:00, to the 5:50, to the 5:45 I thought....hell...why not go big or go home.  Sub 5:40, baby!

Was I tired?  Absolutely.  But at this point in the race, a feeling I can only describe as ebullient came over me.  The last 3 miles were a blur of random aid station jokes (I'm pretty sure I asked for prime rib and beer at one, joking, which is ridiculous since I like neither).  I ticked off miles 11, 12 and 13 all under an 8 minute mile (yes, I either even split or negative split this half, with no mile over 8:57, even the ones with walking).  With .4 to go, I saw my buddies at the finish line.  Matt, who has become a close friend and frequent training buddy, yelled out so much encouragement and how I looked amazing! (I love the way you lie, Matt), Maria, who is one of the best girlfriends I could ask for, and all the reapers spectating.  I got the tingles, guys.  I haven't felt that way since Ironman Lake Placid 2010.  I was overwhelmed with emotion, and almost crying with happiness.  I ran the last bit into the finish line for an overall time of 5:36:15, which was insanely beyond any time goal I had and a whopping 57 minutes off my best time ever.

Post Race

 After I finished, I walked around in a post race haze of giddiness and shock.  I headed over to hang out with Matt and Ryan  to cheer in Gary, who finished shortly after I did.  Matt ended up netting a nice PR (what a great birthday present!) and an AG award, and Ryan finished 11th overall.  I managed 4th place in my AG and 18th woman out of 166, which, for having 3 pros in the race, shocked the hell out of me.  I also netted the 7th fastest half marathon time for the women's race, which is just unreal.  I have no idea what to do with that.  

Birthday boy and I celebrating our new PR's!

 After everyone finished, we settled in for some post race food, bad jokes and reaper fun.  I got to hang out with some people I'd only met through Facebook, and was happy to know that they are just as raunchy and fun as the reapers I know and love.

Non selfie with Matt Kellman.  I know.  I'm also shocked. 

 We stuck around to watch Matt, Ryan and the rest of the Reapers get their awards. Musselman, in their infinite wisdom decided to pair the theme of grilling with the standard bottle of vino.  Of course, the guys knew exactly how to handle such an award.

2/3 of my training crew.  This makes sense now, right? 

After the awards, the epic day of Musselman 2019 was over - we headed home a sunburned, tired, and (in my case at least) an ecstatic mess.

And now what?  Well, obviously my goals of going sub 6 hours at Barrelman are moot.  I talked to Gary (um, he's The Banter in case I've never referred to him by name), Greg and Ryan and all three basically said they thought I was going to shake out about 5:40-5:50, which explains why they had no comment on my lame ass 6:10 goal.  It's time to reassess for Barrelman - I have some tentative goals - and they aren't go under 6 hours.  Or 5:30.  They are now way more aggressive.  We will see as it gets closer - I have 9 weeks to work on these big scary goals!

It's also time to step back and re look at myself as an athlete.  The whole theory of my untapped talent, which seemed foreign to me, might have merit.  I've landed some major PR's this year, not by minutes but by ridiculous amounts.  Part of that is my mental game, part of that is my team, and part of it is listening to wisdom imparted by said team.  And, you guessed it.  I finally (who had the over under for July?) hired The Banter as my coach.  I'm ridiculously amped to begin working with him, though I feel sorry for the man - he might regret taking me on (whoops, sorry Banter).  

 I'm turning off the limiters.  Time to learn how to bike correctly.  To fix my swim form.  To hone my run.  And to have a blast doing it.  Lastly, I had to take care of a little business on the ole blog race page....

 Much better.  Barrelman 2019 - here I come!  (Well, after a few races.  Including a 5k next weekend.  Stay tuned.  That's gonna be a fun read, as I haven't raced one since 2017.)  Hey, why not?? Gotta go get those....you guessed it....BIG SCARY GOALS!

Tri in the Buff 2019: Unstoppable

I suppose it's good form to write a race report before I race again, so here goes.  In case you aren't keeping track at home (I don't blame you, it's tough enough for me to keep track of my own life!) Greg and I raced "Tri in the Buff' on Saturday - a tri, despite it's name, discourages nudity and actually makes you wear pants (or shorts.  Or a trisuit.  Or a swimsuit.  Your call).  I know.  I wasn't a fan either, but hey, rules are rules.  We last did this race as a sprint tri in 2006, which turned into a duathlon, so in order to preserve the fun nature of trying new shit this year, we decided to sign up for the Olympic race.  

Seemed like a good idea at the time, until the week before the race my mom landed in the hospital twice (she's ok now), I managed to inhale poison ivy during a pit stop of a run and spread a rash all over my lower body (Yes, ALL over.  I didn't stutter) and we threw a birthday party for twelve six year olds.  Who said life was boring?  Thankfully, I got in a few awesome workouts during the week, and felt that even with all of the life stress, I might just have it in me to race.

Race morning dawned freaking early (3am) and humid as shit.  We headed out to Evangola State Park, which is about a two hour ride - and a half hour into the ride I realized that my Gatorade endurance was still chilling in the fridge.  Epic fail.  I tallied up my caloric bank, searched in my tri bag and found Shot blox from Placid 2018 (those don't go bad, right?) for the race and figured I would be alright, if slightly low going into the run where I could slam some Gatorade at the aid stations.  On the fly problem solving, am I right?

We checked in with little fanfare and headed to transition to set up our gear.  I took a little course recon (it only took me four tries to figure out the bike out, because I've got the smarts), checked out the lake (fingers crossed no swim cancel this time!) and got all my crap together.  Spent a little time with the Tri Go guys pre race, discussing important things like did mermaids actually exist, bad cake, the world record for holding your breath, and why my swim stroke sucks (they get a lot of mileage out of the latter.  I'm always happy to supply them with something to keep them amused, of course).

Greg and I donned our wetsuits about 7:30 to get in a little warm up, and after 14 years of racing I did something I've never done before - I tore a giant hole in my wetsuit leg.  Eff.  Between this, half my nutrition still in my fridge at home, and a severe lack of sleep the night before, I was not in the best frame of mind.  

Not gonna lie, after coming in 4th overall at Keuka, I had done a little race stalkage and tried to figure out what I needed to do to place overall at this tri.  I had figured a 2:45 might do it, which was 3 minutes lower than my best effort at the distance and possible on a good day.  Then I spotted a few freaking fast people in the race and decided if I couldn't place overall, I would shoot for an Age Group win in order to punch my ticket to 2020 Age Group Nationals (what have I become.....I'll tell ya, this year has been dangerous!)  At this point, I had doubts about both, so I took a few minutes to breathe deep and remind myself how much I love doing this stuff.  For the first time in a long time, I didn't fear the bike (which is good, because despite my wishes...they have never cancelled the bike leg of a race I've been in.  Ever).  I knew I could pull together a decent run.  And I knew that, even though I wasn't amazingly fast, I could hold my own and shake out somewhere in the top third in the swim.  And even without all that....I remembered how much I damned love this sport.  How much fun I have doing it.  And to just go play like a kid and have a good time! And before I knew it, it was time to dance.  Let's do this!

The men went off in wave #1 for the Oly and the women followed 5 minutes later.  As we headed into the corral a race official came to check out one woman in our group who was wearing a different color cap.  She assured him she was in for the Oly and that she was, in fact, a woman, by grabbing her boobs.  He backed away like he was stung and we all busted out laughing.  I shared a quick pre race good luck with Mary Eggers and we headed into the water to take off!  We laughed at the men and their shit sighting, and one woman observed that we were likely hanging out in a nice lake of men's piss (OMG, this sport).  Before we knew it, the horn sounded and we were off!

Swim:  28:10 (1:46/100)

The swim was a two loop rectangle, with 4 sight bouys.  Going into the race, I had thought we were going to need to run to shore and dolphin dive back in, which was dispelled by the race officials.  YESS.  The water was 76, which was pretty warm for Lake Erie, and slightly choppy on the way out.  The start was a bit congested, but I usually aggressively seed myself because I don't mind the scrum and can hold my own.  As usual, I really had no clue where I shook out in the swim, as I usually end up swimming alone about halfway through and can't really figure out if I'm that damned slow or just in between the pocket of slow and fast people.  My goal for the swim was to be comfortable, and try to get out of the water in under 30 minutes, both of which I accomplished.  This was a three minute PR at the distance, so my time at the pool is clearly doing something this year!  I exited the water feeling good and began the (always) uphill run to transition.  My T1 time was slow as shit, and somehow I ended up running my bike out with my helmet still hanging on my handlebars.  Way to do it live, Rae.

Bike: 1:17:42 (19.5 mph)

This was the test, as always.  I went into the race with a few goals for the bike leg - to go under 1:22 (such a weird goal, but 18.5 seemed doable), to ride fearless, and to get myself in aero.  The course was a double loop and it's been 13 years since I've done one loop, so my thought was to get the hang of it in loop one and let it rip in loop 2.  The entire elevation gain of the course was less than 700 feet, so I decided to take it aggressively and see what I could lay down.  The first 5 miles felt great, then we hung a right turn at an intersection with a light and no volunteers that made me a bit queasy.  Yikes.  I admit I took it conservatively for this busy stretch, but we turned again to a quiet road about 9 miles in, and I noticed that at mile 10, I was averaging almost 20 miles an hour.  WHAT.  I decided to re- evaluate my goal for the bike and go under 1:20.  Which I freaking did!  Ended loop 1 in 38 minutes and change, and negative splitted that baby on loop 2, which was awesome because I now knew the course, but slightly more challenging due to the sprint athletes on the course in loop 2 (which was fine, just more cluttered).  I got passed by two women on the bike that I think were in my race and passed a ton of men in the Oly and a few women.  I'll take it. 

Notes for the bike -  I still need to work on descending in the right gear (I tend to pick a gear and just get married to it rather than shifting and gave away some serious free speed going downhill) and freaking aero, which I did not get into.  I have some stretches to work on this around me, and plan to do so post Musselman for Barrelman fun.  I'm starting to feel comfortable in the actual position, but still have reservations about riding in it around cars and other cyclists, as I'm not really sure about "steering".  I'm also aware I have little choice in the matter about transitioning, as my teammates will never let me live it down if I don't freaking just do it soon.  (Peer pressure.  It's such a good thing.  No, I'm not kidding).  

Back to our riveting story.  I managed to dismount without looking like a moron and headed into T2 for my favorite part - the run!

Run:  48:22 (7:48)

This run is a total shit show.  It';s about half road and half grass/mud/tough mudder bullshit, with about 47 turns in each of the two loops. With that out of the way, you all know I live and die by the run, so as I made my way out of T2, visor and race belt in hand, I was grinning like a little kid.  Since it was a two looper I knew I would A) find my friends out on the course, and B) Do a little recon on where I shook out for the women's race. They only put race divisions on the back of your calves, but I knew two women in my race that passed me on the bike and at least 4 others that I assumed were ahead of me, so my goal was to shake some of them out so I could at least Age Group place.  About a half mile into the run I spotted Greg, who was looking determined (he does not do well with the heat and it was humid AF).  High fived the boy, Mary Eggers, and a few other buddies in mile 1, and clocked it in 7:32, which was likely too fast!  I slowed a bit without a choice as miles 2 and 3 were mostly off road terrain.  I made my first pass to an athlete I didn't expect to even touch at mile 2 and felt pretty amped, until I hit the fire swamp shortly after and almost lost a shoe to the lightening sand mud bog we had to jump over.  Awesome.  There was about a quarter mile section that was just pure mud and a few ditches to jump over that I was not a fan of, but we got some more road toward the end of the loop and I opted to add a little distance to stay on road.  At the end of loop 1 I saw the Banter, who told me I looked terrific (I love it when he lies to me) and to go chase down my husband, who was about a minute up (well, really not, as he had a five minute head start, but I had no time for such corrections).  I found Greg and Mary shortly after, who both told me I looked way to friggin happy, which I took as a sign to speed the hell up.  Check.  Finished loop one in 23:45, and did some quick mental math - I realized that my 2:45 goal was total garbage and that if I could pull off a sub 50 10k, I would go under 2:40.  Holy shit.  

I had been told this was a long 10k, but the first loop clocked in at 3.12 so i knew, unless I was a total idiot (which, let's keep that option open) that it wasn't really long.  Loop 2 was more of the same ole as loop 1 - I picked off another two women I thought were in my race, including another I was pretty sure I had no business passing.  As I kicked it in for the final mile, I noticed the rain and a distinct lack of people toward the finish.  As in, I had to dodge people on the sidewalk to make my way to the home stretch.  What?  I crossed the finish line....no announcers, no faster friends yelling encouragement or obscenities....no nothing.  I stopped my watch, confused, and headed toward the timing tent, where I met up with the Banter and he told me they called the race due to lightening.  WTF??  How did I miss that???  I looked at my watch, which read 2:37:41 (actual official race result (2:38:10)) and had a heart attack, as my 11 minute distance PR now meant nothing.  We headed over to the officials tent, where they quickly confirmed that anyone on the run course when the race was called (which I was) would have a time.  OH HAPPY DAY!!  I shook my head in disbelief and gave the Banter a sweaty gross hug and told him I PRed by 11 minutes, to which he shook his head and said "So much wasted talent.  You have so much potential." Which, A - shut up, and B - What else did I expect. He's still my favorite somehow, which means I have questionable taste really enjoy his epic visions for me and deep down supportive friendship.  Stay tuned for more on this, as post race I've made some moves that I think are gonna make waves (We are still discussing sports, people. Get over it).

Post Race

I hung around to watch Greg finish and collect my crap from transition, chatted with him and Mary, who both told me I had way too much energy for just doing a race (what can I say, I was hopped up like a six year old on candy from my ridiculous PR), and then headed to the pavilion to check out the results and catch up with the guys.  We found out quickly that there would be no awards ceremony and results would be posted later that day and awards could be picked up.  Crap.  I really had no clue how I shook out, but I had thought I might have age group placed.  I got some shit for not going in aero during the race, (I basically think everyone is just dumbfounded I can hold close to 20 mph not in aero), and found out the Boy also netted a huge distance PR - go Matt!  Our speedy friend The Outlaw pulled off a 2nd overall and would have won if not for a hamstring issue, and The Boys fiancee had a successful first race officiating training (I guess I need to start behaving around her.  Damn).  The food spread was decent but post race I couldn't stomach much beyond water, so we packed up and headed out.

Nutrition fails - Freezer Gatorade I found at home and my year old shot blox.

And Tri in the Buff was a wrap!  I ended up with an official 10 minute PR at the Oly distance, and I was super happy with the way the race was executed.  Oh, you want to know the actual results? Well, a few hours later we found out, I did not, in fact win my age group.

I came in 3rd.  Overall.  HOLY SHIT, I HIT THE OVERALL WOMEN'S PODIUM!.  I cannot believe that freaking happened.  Of course, since they cancelled the awards ceremony, there was no actual podium, but I took the liberty of re-creating the moment for you: 

Whew, I think I'm ok with third.  That was some tough competition, but next time I'll work on catching my BFF's Rinny and Daniela.  They were good sports about it, of course. I'd like to thank the academy for your support, my husband for putting up with this bullshit training I'm doing, the Banter for being a pain in my ass, and the Tri-Go guys for their constant harassment  amazing assistant coaching efforts and encouragement.  No really, I appreciate the hell out of everyone's help.  I am totally blown away with this race - I've never even considered a podium finish.  I've never considered going under 2:45 in the Oly distance, let alone under 2:40.  I'm feeling...Unstoppable.  Which happens to be my new running jam by the Score....

Every spotlight

Every sound byte

Everybody who gave up

Is just the fuel for

Wanting it more

Than anybody against us

Ooh, they can say what they want now

Ooh, 'cause we'll be screaming out

We can be heroes everywhere we go

We can have all that we ever want

Swinging like Ali, knocking out bodies

Standing on top like a champion

Keep your silver, give me that gold

You'll remember when I say

We can be heroes everywhere we go

Keeping us down is impossible

'Cause we're unstoppable

2019, baby.  This year has already taught me so much.  It's taught me that you have to be willing to challenge all pre-conceived notions of what you can do.  You have to be willing to be afraid, to look foolish, to step off and just freaking go for what you want.  Because if you step back and play it safe, you might be more comfortable, but you will never, ever know what you are capable of.  It's still terrifying.  I still wonder each day if I am making the right choices with most of my life as I make these big jumps.  But then I know that life is too damned short to play it safe, and if I don't test myself to see what I can do, I'll look back and always wonder what would have happened I I had just....jumped.  Well, its time.  To jump. To do it.  Next up is Musselman 70.3, which, I have no idea what I can do, but I sure as hell know 3 things - 1.  I'm not placing any limits on myself, 2. I'm gonna go chase those big scary goals down, and 3.  I'm gonna have a blast doing it.

Let’s do this thing!