Duathlon Nationals (the Wet T-Shirt Contest)

[I know you’re curious about the title. I’ll explain later.]

It was a tough day today. Here’s an overview:

Positives:
I finished
No medical attention required
My popliteus (knee) didn’t hurt
Positive impact on the race
Time with great friends and fellow club members
Good training day
Race numbers did not require scrubbing to remove (they mixed with sunblock and sweated off)
Great leftover pasta waiting for me at home as a post-race meal
No sunburn
A rest day tomorrow is completely justified
I now have a good system for securing Miss Piggy for transport
I pretty much stayed in the appropriate HR zone
There are way more positives than negatives

Negatives:
It. Was. HOT! Really, really hot
I got nowhere near my goal time
Ouch! Foot pain

That’s a lot, huh? I had a really long drive back from Richmond to think about all of this. I am really enjoying this blogging thing. I don’t know if anyone other than Robyn is reading, but I am enjoying writing.

As you probably gathered, today I participated in the Duathlon Nationals in Richmond (10k run, 40k bike, 5k run).

Nationals – doesn’t that make you think championships? Yeah, me, too. Well, rumor has it that the duathlon folks weren’t receiving as much interest as they’d like, and long story short, the race director asked the DC Tri Club (of which I'm a member; not to be confused with my team: Team Z) to help increase participation.

There was no requirement/qualification for entry, and the Tri Club even offered an incentive for participation. (I need to look into that – I think there was a $10 reimbursement or something.) Oh, and did I mention the schwag (I did on Facebook). All entrants received transition backpacks, gender-specific performance shirts, baseball caps, and engraved pint glasses for finishers. (They had me at backpacks.) What the heck, I thought. It will be a good training event.


RUN 1
It was around 10:30 am and it was already in the 80’s and humid. I jogged around a little bit to “warm” up. Ha! At 10:50-ish, the 30-34 females gathered in the starting area. I looked around and knew. Just knew. The ladies looked like they should be at “Nationals.”

At most races, there are a variety of body types. However, this was one fit group. No matter, though. I wasn’t there to win. I compete against myself. The run started and I intentionally took it slow. I swear, I lost sight of most of the ladies within a couple of minutes. Seriously, I never saw them again.

There were 2 ladies in my age group who were about my speed at the beginning. I saw them a lot on that first 10k. I am happy to report that I paced myself, and consequently passed them later on in the 10k. There were another 2 who were slower and I didn’t see them again either.

The race course was crazy. Hilly with odd terrain. What is odd? Well, at one point we ran on gravel on the very the edge of the railroad tracks along a hill (very narrow and very easy to fall or twist and ankle) and then turned around at the end of the train that was parked there, crossed over the tracks, and ran on the other edge of the gravelly tracks. Ugh. My race was called the “On-Road Age Group Championps.” There was an off-road competition later this afternoon. I’d hate to see what they had to do.

I am not sure about my times. My wonderful Polar SD-200 heart rate monitor watch was stolen a few weeks ago. I am currently using an old Polar watch which has issues. Among these is the “quirk” that the watch spontaneously turns itself off and resets. Fun.

T1
Transition was difficult. I was hot and tired, even though I paced myself. I took my time. I was kind of shocked that I now needed to bike 25 miles.

BIKE
I don’t have much to say about the bike part. It stunk. I just kept pedaling (sometimes telling myself to do so out loud). I thought it was a two lap course until I saw a fellow club member on my second lap. He started before me, is fast, and I knew was ahead of me. I knew the mileage on my bike computer was off, but I just figured my bike computer wasn’t working. Wishful thinking. I still had another lap to go. Oops.

Probably the best part of the bike course was the ice water. Nope, not provided by the race. Courtesy of my knight in shining armor. The race was a very staggered race start. My long time training partner, and best friend, had started - and finished - his race before I even started. Lucky him for beating the worst of the heat. But he stuck around (for a looong time) to cheer me on and support me. And since we passed the transition area many times on the bike course (twice on each of the three laps), I got to see him and other cheering club members a lot.

During one of the earlier passes, I handed off one of my water bottles. The reason? I can’t really access the rear water bottle on my bike. I finished the first bottle, and couldn’t figure out how to switch them while I was moving. So I gave my knight the empty bottle. Yes, I need to work on this for future races.

During the next pass, he offered me my bottle – refilled. With ICE water. By now it was in the 90’s (my bike computer said 105 degrees. It felt like 105 degrees to me, but I am pretty sure that wasn’t correct.) Ice water was a welcome treat. Of course, getting anything not from the official aid stations is strictly prohibited. I didn’t care. I would have gladly taken a penalty (or disqualification). I received a couple of ice-water refills. Thank you!

Along the way I saw no less than 8 different people on the ground receiving medical attention. Heat issues seemed to be the culprit (no evidence of blood or damaged bikes). I focused on staying in my HR zone, keeping my cadence close to 90 rpm, and hydrating (with ICE water).

T2
I was so happy to get back to transition and be done with that ridiculous and very long ride. Except I still had another 5k to go. Sigh. The plan was simply to keep moving and keep my heart rate in zone 4.

Towards the end of the ride, however, my foot started to hurt. Kill, actually. A pain I had never felt before. It felt like there was a nail in middle of my foot, on the outer edge of my arch. Ouch!!! It is still there.

I tried to run my bike into transition. Then I tried to walk my bike into transition. Both hurt like hell. Standing still wasn't so great, either.

RUN 2
A few minutes into the run (I mean the shuffle for 30 seconds, walk for 30 seconds) I stopped, sat on a bench, took off my shoe and tried to massage my foot. Pointless. And painful. But the good news was that it hit me that I had thought about my popliteus once that day. Hooray!

Around the mile 2 marker I saw someone familiar walking along. I had almost caught him on the bike course. He was 21, which means that he started at least 30 minutes after me.

How did I know how old he was? Triathlon (and duathlon) has an interesting tradition. After writing your race number of all of your limbs in permanent black marker, they write your age on your calf.

I learned why at my last race. It is so you know who you’re competing against since for the sake of awards you are competitng against those in your age group. I guess this could motivate you to catch or pass people. Personally, I just like looking at people’s ages. Especially the those like the 83-year old woman at the Patriots Tri last year. Inspiring! (I want to be her.)

Anyhow, I caught up to Mr. 21-year-old and I told him that he couldn’t let me pass him. I suggested that we run 1 minute together, and walk 30 seconds. He was on board. And this is how we finished the last mile and half of the race. When I encouraged him to go on. He said, “No, I’m running with you.” I didn’t focus on how bad I hurt, and I’d like to think that I got him to the finish line quicker than he would have otherwise.

I don’t yet know my final time or where I placed. I know my time was way, way off from what I had hoped. (I wasn’t expecting the hills or the heat).

I just know that I finished and didn’t collapse on the ground.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to help out the new triathletes in the club with their training run. My job was “sweep” – aka run at the back and make sure no one gets left behind. I wound up running with a lovely new triathlete who said something I thought of all day today: it takes guts to show up and come in last. Well said!

I could have stayed home. I could have slept in. I could have gone to brunch. But I GOT IT DONE. Another race under my belt. Yay me!

Oh, and why was it a wet t-shirt contest? On the run course someone brilliant had the idea to equip the volunteers at the aid stations with hoses in addition to water and powerade. Here I was in my white top (and white sports bra) and I didn’t care. I relished the hose downs. It turns out that my top did not become transparent, but I had fun teasing the volunteers about the situation.

It was a hard day, but I am better for it. I can't think of anything I could have or should have done differently.

I thought a lot about Ironman today. Hopefully it will not be 95 degrees in Florida in November. I will get through the Ironman just like I got through today. Slow and steady. Racing smart.