I woke up at 4:30. I hadn't slept well the night before because Laura was out of town at some bike race, or whatever, so in a fit of stubbornness I decided to sleep with the air conditioning Off. It's so loud. I was sweaty all night and tossed around and had typical pre-race nightmares about forgetting my helmet or sinking to the bottom of the bay. I wasn't particularly well rested but it was easy to get up, because I was pretty excited. I took a shower to cool off. This is not a good sign. It's 4:30 in the morning and I need to take a shower because it's already sticky hot.
I got to the race, Ms. McKlunk's wheels were full of air and everything was fine. I had my number written on my arms with magic marker and then I put sunscreen on, which was a good idea but also a bad idea. I was protected from the sun but my numbers got all smeary, so I looked like an amateur. Whatever, I wasn't gonna get burnt. Next time, I'll put that stuff on at home.
I emptied my gym bag underneath my bike and tried my best to make a thoughtful arrangement of shoes and helmet and energy gels so that I could access everything I needed when I was disoriented or exhausted during transitions. I put my shoes in a line under the front wheel of my bike and tossed a towel over the top tube and artfully propped my helmet up, with the straps splayed and my sunglasses, socks, and gloves inside on the handlebars of my bike. It looked pretty much like every one elses' bike--and that's how I know I'm doing something close enough to right. After I set up my transition area I had plenty of time before the race. I went for a short jog. After about 6 minutes I was already sweating buckets and my numbers were even more smeary. The one on my thigh was completely gone. Oh well, that's what race numbers are for I guess. I went back to the transition area and adjusted my things one more time. "No, maybe my running shoes should be 3mm behind this blade of grass..." eventually I gave up trying to perfect my transition mechanics and took my shoes off, grabbed my swimhat, goggles and a powerbar and headed down toward the bay. I stood in the water while the sun came up and ate. Other racers were doing short swims so I decided that that's what I should do too. The water was HOT, but I had to pee too so it was a perfect for a quick swim warmup...
I ended up hanging out in the water for about 20 minutes before the race started. I saw a lot of people I know from our morning swim group--but most of them were doing the sprint distance race. At 7 we lined up in the corral and watched the pros swim off. Every wave has their own hat color. At 7:03 they blew the airhorn and we raced/minced our way across the rocky coral beach and dove into the water/lukewarm-broth and were on our way. I kept up with the pack okay around the first buoy but after that I noticed that there were orange and pink and purple hats around me. Damn. Oh well, I decided at that point that I was going to swim/bike/run my own swim/bike/run and forget everyone else. Which sort of works to make me feel better about my performance, but not really.
I came out of the water after 34 minutes, not bad for a 1500 m swim. A little slower than I wanted--or predicted--but I had to deal with a nearly side-lining injury half way through the swim when some *&%^%$ guy who was BREASTSTROKING (who does that?!) kicked me in the leg and gave me a nasty dead-leg for a few minutes. That sounds like a good 4-minute excuse to me anyway. So, I came out of the water and ran to the transition area--barefoot through a parking lot. I grabbed my towel and promptly threw it in a mud puddle, damn, and then had to put my socks on my feet still wet. I strapped my shoes and helmet on and was off to the bike.
The bike was fine, I tried to go a little faster than I normally do, I think I did. But who knows, really? I hadn't been on my bike for at least 2 months. The bad headset didn't bother me too much except that Ms. McKlunk was a bit wobbly around the turns. The ride was nice though, because it wasn't windy at all, and I wasn't too hot because I was still soaking from the swim and the little puddles in my shoes were keeping my feet pretty cool. I got passed by EVERY one though, which is sort of hard on my ego. I got really excited on my second lap around the island when I passed someone on the bridge. "Yeah! Take that lady! I OWN the bridge" until I realized that she wasn't even part of the race. The last time over the bridge I did pass some old-fat-lady, but she passed me on the bottom again. Probably the only thing that kept me going, besides half heartedly telling myself that it "doesn't matter, I'm biking my own bike here", was the out-and-back nature of the course. On every turn around I could see that I was actually beating some people. Not many, but a handful, and some of them were even in pointy helmets with $10,000 bikes. Ha! Take that!
The transition area was pretty deserted by the time Ms. McKlunk and I made it back. I got off my bike and started running towards my stall when I realized "Umm, if I take another 30 seconds to transition here it's not really going to be the difference between winning and losing" so I walked and took my time getting my shoes on for the run. When I packed for the race I had planned on having some electrolyte capsules and some Powerbar chewies at this point, but I totally forgot. I grabbed my race belt--with only one gu on it--and ran out towards the run course. I was woefully unprepared--in terms of nutrition. Because I was sweating so much I was losing a lot of salt and I was replacing it with mostly straight-up water. I had had some energy drink but the race people were mixing it weakly so I don't think it was enough to replace all the salt that was pouring off me. I was getting leg cramps and feeling pretty woozy on the run. BUT! I was passing more people than were passing me on the run. That felt good. And, maybe I'm a little better at running than I am at biking, but probably it's just because all the fast people--who had passed me on their bikes--had already finished running by the time I got out there and we were left with the dregs so to speak. Still, passing people rocks--even if you're running your own run.
I finished in 3:18, which was before the cutoff and under my "man, if I can't do it in 3:30..." deadline. Turns out it was also good enough for a 3rd place trophy. Ha! First trophy EVER that wasn't a joke.
After the race I went home and laid on the couch and tried to replenish my salt the best I could while my muscles twitched uncontrollably for several hours. I felt fine the next day.And thus concludes the LONGEST POST EVER, in America, about the Miami Nice.
1 comment:
thats awesome! yey!
Post a Comment