A little race recap, tried to keep it relatively short. This was my first 70.3 and my first tri since 2009.
For not being a life-long swimmer, actually I really just re-learned swimming in January, the swim went pretty well. Started in the slower group (rolling start) because of the unknowns of how I would do and ended up passing a fair amount of people but all-in-all it felt smooth.
The bike started out great. I felt calmly energetic, was passing some folks and hanging with some faster people (not drafting obvi) but not burning any matches and just having fun. At about mile 12 I began to notice my chain rubbing on the front der. Then between miles 18-19 as I started up a climb, I went to shift into the smaller ring which resulted in A) the shift not happening, and B) the most horrendous chain suckage noise you'd ever want to hear on race day.
Pulling off to the side I'm looking at my front derailleur which is at about a 45-degree angle to my chainline and it is not wanting to leave that position. Naturally, my multitool in not on my bike so I'm pretty hosed. But there should be a course mechanic driving around that'll hit me up at some point, right?
Not really. Over an hour later (I lost track of time because my watch actually stopped, thinking I had stopped) the race SAG truck rolls up and asks if I'm okay. They tell me the "grim reaper" isn't far behind them and that I'm in the last position on the course.
"All I need is a mechanic to help for like 3 minutes and I'll be good to continue" I say, so they get on the radio and a mech rolls up no more than 2 minutes later. He cuts the derailleur off, clips the cable so it doesn't flap in the wind, puts me in the big dog ring and away I go.
The next 6-7 people I see are off their bikes walking up towards Mica View. I know that I've got some serious time to make up and do not want to get DNF'd so I'm mashing it pretty good. While it's kind of fun to be passing so many people, I was literally in last place so I'm not taking too much joy in it.
About 6 miles outside of transition a guy rolls up next to me and starts chatting, asking how I'm doing. He looks way too fast to be in the back so I ask him if he's a pro, turns out to be Andrew Starykowicz who finished 3rd a little earlier. We chatted for a few miles, SUPER nice guy. Def one of the highlights of my day.
Back in T, I rack the bike and head out for the run knowing it was going to be brutal on my now shaky legs. I had no idea it was going to be THAT brutal. The cramping started pretty early on and it was an absolute sufferfest. My watch was off and I had no idea where I was time-wise, so I just kept on moving forward as best as I could. With 2.7 miles to go a volunteer told me and the gentleman I was silently shuffling with that we had 30 minutes to get to the finish.
My legs were cramping like I had never felt before, but I started to jog. Me and this other guy, who was 62 but I have no idea what is number was, towed each other all the way back. He would run, I would run, then we'd walk. Then I'd start running and he'd start running, then we'd walk. We never said a word to each other, never even made eye contact, but without that guy I'm not sure I would've made it and there's a good chance he feels the same way.
Finally I finished, at 8 hours and 14 minutes. The most unnecessarily difficult 70.3 I hope to ever have. I wasn't really ill-prepared, not any more than the avg person competing in their first race would be. I just lost well over an hour on the side of the road and then blew myself up trying to get back into the race.
Anyways, I got the medal and made it through one of the most mentally challenging things I've ever done. And guaranteed that I'll get a PB at IM 70.3 Arizona in October.
So, that's my race report. I wouldn't bother sharing it if It weren't so abnormal...so there it is.
For not being a life-long swimmer, actually I really just re-learned swimming in January, the swim went pretty well. Started in the slower group (rolling start) because of the unknowns of how I would do and ended up passing a fair amount of people but all-in-all it felt smooth.
The bike started out great. I felt calmly energetic, was passing some folks and hanging with some faster people (not drafting obvi) but not burning any matches and just having fun. At about mile 12 I began to notice my chain rubbing on the front der. Then between miles 18-19 as I started up a climb, I went to shift into the smaller ring which resulted in A) the shift not happening, and B) the most horrendous chain suckage noise you'd ever want to hear on race day.
Pulling off to the side I'm looking at my front derailleur which is at about a 45-degree angle to my chainline and it is not wanting to leave that position. Naturally, my multitool in not on my bike so I'm pretty hosed. But there should be a course mechanic driving around that'll hit me up at some point, right?
Not really. Over an hour later (I lost track of time because my watch actually stopped, thinking I had stopped) the race SAG truck rolls up and asks if I'm okay. They tell me the "grim reaper" isn't far behind them and that I'm in the last position on the course.
"All I need is a mechanic to help for like 3 minutes and I'll be good to continue" I say, so they get on the radio and a mech rolls up no more than 2 minutes later. He cuts the derailleur off, clips the cable so it doesn't flap in the wind, puts me in the big dog ring and away I go.
The next 6-7 people I see are off their bikes walking up towards Mica View. I know that I've got some serious time to make up and do not want to get DNF'd so I'm mashing it pretty good. While it's kind of fun to be passing so many people, I was literally in last place so I'm not taking too much joy in it.
About 6 miles outside of transition a guy rolls up next to me and starts chatting, asking how I'm doing. He looks way too fast to be in the back so I ask him if he's a pro, turns out to be Andrew Starykowicz who finished 3rd a little earlier. We chatted for a few miles, SUPER nice guy. Def one of the highlights of my day.
Back in T, I rack the bike and head out for the run knowing it was going to be brutal on my now shaky legs. I had no idea it was going to be THAT brutal. The cramping started pretty early on and it was an absolute sufferfest. My watch was off and I had no idea where I was time-wise, so I just kept on moving forward as best as I could. With 2.7 miles to go a volunteer told me and the gentleman I was silently shuffling with that we had 30 minutes to get to the finish.
My legs were cramping like I had never felt before, but I started to jog. Me and this other guy, who was 62 but I have no idea what is number was, towed each other all the way back. He would run, I would run, then we'd walk. Then I'd start running and he'd start running, then we'd walk. We never said a word to each other, never even made eye contact, but without that guy I'm not sure I would've made it and there's a good chance he feels the same way.
Finally I finished, at 8 hours and 14 minutes. The most unnecessarily difficult 70.3 I hope to ever have. I wasn't really ill-prepared, not any more than the avg person competing in their first race would be. I just lost well over an hour on the side of the road and then blew myself up trying to get back into the race.
Anyways, I got the medal and made it through one of the most mentally challenging things I've ever done. And guaranteed that I'll get a PB at IM 70.3 Arizona in October.
So, that's my race report. I wouldn't bother sharing it if It weren't so abnormal...so there it is.