If you've read the previous post you know that I floundered my way through my first open water swim and wobbled into the transition area at something less than a sauntering stroll of a pace.
My head and vision were starting to clear as I plunked myself down to get on my shoes. The bike is usually my strongest leg...I'm typically in the top third of all participants pace wise on the bike...so this is where I usually can make up some time. But I forgot one of the key training lessons of triathlon: "Live in the moment". I was definitely NOT in the moment as I rode out onto the course. I was still flabbergasted over the swim.
The Rattlesnake bike course is VERY hilly with a net rise in elevation of over 750 ft. That means you do get some downhills but they all seem to slope in to the middle of the course so that you up to the turn around and up to the finish. I spent most of the bike leg trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside of me. I wound up with a decent time but my pace was about what I would normally do just riding around town.
I came in to transition glad to know I had only a 5k left to go. Of course, the run is usually what I am worst at...
With one seriously bad knee and a long recovery time after my race back in June I hadn't been able to do any run training for nearly two months. My plan going in to this run was to keep a brisk walking pace...which for me is between an 11 and 12 minute mile...and jog a bit on the downhills. The plan seemed to work ok on the outbound part of the run. Sure I was being regularly passed by people but I was passing occasionally too. At the 1.5 mile turn around point I was feeling like maybe I hadn't pushed myself hard enough...then I started thing about the swim AGAIN and had to work on stomach content maintenance for a few hundred yards.
With about a half mile to go I came up on the two ladies from CWW triathlon club with whom I had shared bike rack in the transition area. This normally would have felt pretty good since they started in the water at least 15 - 20 minutes ahead of me...but they had both run the olympic distance tri the day before. I thanked them for waiting for me and told them they could go ahead and finish if they liked. We wound up jockeying back and forth...them passing me when I walked me getting them back when I jogged...until I heard them coming up behind me one last time with an intent to run through the finish.
Up until that moment I was pretty sure I was wiped out enough the my male ego had sunk to the bottom of the lake somewhere. Apparently it found me out at the end of the run course and I managed to run through the last quarter mile..."run" being a very relative term at that point.
At the end of the day my time was a 1:37:53...not impressive by any stretch but not one to complain about really. My pace for the swim and run were close to what I had hoped for even if the bike was a little slow. But I DID learn a crucial lesson or two:
1. Don't try something entirely new for the first time in competition.
Open water swimming + wet suit combined for a harrowing mental experience
2. "Live in the moment" means forgetting what you just did and focusing on what you're doing.
That would have helped in both the bike AND run.
3. "Live in the moment" also means focusing your mind on truth.
I knew what to do but let my mind wander to "oh my gosh's" and "what if's"
Yes, I will try an open water swim tri again someday.
Somehow though I think those three lessons apply beyond just doing triathlons.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Rattlesnake Triathlon - A first tri at open water
I had read, several times, that doing an open water swim in a triathlon was much different than doing a pool swim. Going into today I had never done an open water tri...though I had done a couple with pool swims. Now, I've swam in rivers, lakes, even in the ocean quite a bit...but I was NOT ready for THIS.
We entered the water in a time trial start, 5 seconds between each person, which is designed to avoid the chaos of a mass shotgun start. Instantly I recognized that all of the usual proprioceptive ques that help me keep a steady pace in the pool were gone. Within the first fifty meters I was thrashing. My heart rate was way up, I couldn't go more than a handful of strokes without peeking up to see if I was on a good line. I was worried about running into people...it was horrible.
Truth be known I can do 500 meters in a pool with relative ease at a decent pace but by the time we got out to the 250 meter mark and made the turn for shore I was worried I might not make it. There are kayaks along the the way that you can grab on to if you are in a bad enough way and as long as you don't propel yourself forward there is no penalty...but I did NOT want to be that guy.
With 50 meters to go I had a couple guys pass me and ask if I was ok. I was kicking along on my back trying to catch my breath. I pushed myself to roll back over and dug in hard for about 30 meters and finally found lake bottom. I managed to get my feet under me and dragged myself onto the beach only to find that I was staggering like late night drunk. I couldn't keep anything like a straight line, my eyes were doing weird focus things, I felt overwhelming panic and relief all at the same time and knew I still had to bike 12 miles and run a 5K.
Normaly I can get a good jog on after the swim but this was a lurching survival walk. I stumbled past the people who were there to help us out of our wetsuits knowing that if I lay down to let them pull it off my legs I wouldn't be able to get back up. I CLEARLY remember the small, rational, analytical part of my brain chipping in with, "Ok, that was ridiculous. You could have died. We're never doing THAT again."
My transition time, which doesn't start until AFTER you stagger in to the transition area, was close to two minutes longer than my normal...only 1/3 of the race down and I was spent.
to be continued...
We entered the water in a time trial start, 5 seconds between each person, which is designed to avoid the chaos of a mass shotgun start. Instantly I recognized that all of the usual proprioceptive ques that help me keep a steady pace in the pool were gone. Within the first fifty meters I was thrashing. My heart rate was way up, I couldn't go more than a handful of strokes without peeking up to see if I was on a good line. I was worried about running into people...it was horrible.
Truth be known I can do 500 meters in a pool with relative ease at a decent pace but by the time we got out to the 250 meter mark and made the turn for shore I was worried I might not make it. There are kayaks along the the way that you can grab on to if you are in a bad enough way and as long as you don't propel yourself forward there is no penalty...but I did NOT want to be that guy.
With 50 meters to go I had a couple guys pass me and ask if I was ok. I was kicking along on my back trying to catch my breath. I pushed myself to roll back over and dug in hard for about 30 meters and finally found lake bottom. I managed to get my feet under me and dragged myself onto the beach only to find that I was staggering like late night drunk. I couldn't keep anything like a straight line, my eyes were doing weird focus things, I felt overwhelming panic and relief all at the same time and knew I still had to bike 12 miles and run a 5K.
Normaly I can get a good jog on after the swim but this was a lurching survival walk. I stumbled past the people who were there to help us out of our wetsuits knowing that if I lay down to let them pull it off my legs I wouldn't be able to get back up. I CLEARLY remember the small, rational, analytical part of my brain chipping in with, "Ok, that was ridiculous. You could have died. We're never doing THAT again."
My transition time, which doesn't start until AFTER you stagger in to the transition area, was close to two minutes longer than my normal...only 1/3 of the race down and I was spent.
to be continued...
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