Hudson Valley HITS Triathlon, July 13th 2019
near Kingston/Woodstock New York, Hudson Valley
5:45am, pulled into the parking lot at Williams Lake and shuffled off to the starting point, getting my gear organized. The crowd was light and refreshingly calm, so different from Ironman Events. I believe there were about 60-75 people entering the half (56 finished) and 15-20 entering the full (six people finished, including myself as the 6th, three people dropped out).
Swim- (1:50, though 2-3 minutes spent running to transition, so more like 1:47ish, transition was about 5:30
6:40- everyone headed off to the Lake for an in-water start. Water temp was low 80s, very warm for me and at least 20 degrees warmer than any other event swim I have done, and nearly everyone got rid of their wetsuits. The countdown happens and the halves and fulls took off, with some light banging around the first turn or two, but soon people spaced out and there was virtually no bodies banging into each other. I completed the first loop and felt slightly better, still overwhelmed about the three laps to go. I counted yellow markers, of which there were 16 points, and tried to simply focus on the next marker. Until I was halfway, I had dreaded doubt about completing the swim, but once I passed halfway it became and endurance battle, which I knew I would finish, if not thrive. The third lap came and went and then towards the last half of the 4th lap, euphoria stepped in and I felt confidence in finishing. The sprinters who were waiting to swim all applauded my finish (and all the faster swimmers who finished before me) and I stumbled to where I put my shoes, drank a coconut water and ate a bar, and walked/ran to the transition.
Bike: 7:31, two loops, transition to run was 6:40 minutes
Ashokan Resevoir, Upstate New York, bike ride went around this twice
I was out the chute and on my bike, a little delirious and trying to get settled--the first few miles on the bike are always disorienting to me. I had sprinters flashing past me going twice as fast, and the hills the first 5 miles were significant and exhausting. I wheeled through the turns, trying to keep a regular cadence, and got some water at the first stop. We curled around the resevoir slowly, in some nice forests, with little traffic (It was still early). Then at Boiceville you turn right onto a busy highway with cars going 65 miles per hour but a nice wide shoulder for the rollers for the next 10-12 miles. Passing through Shokan and West Hurley (and curiously eying the turnoff for Woodstock), the route finally bends off the main highway, and you are on quieter roads, including a brief period where you get a full view of the Ashokan Resevoir. Back onto 213, and then again to 209, and to the "finish" line, where it is done all over again. The second loop was much hotter than the first, probably in the low 80s at start and high 80s at the end, where I finished at 4:30, struggled into the bike corral incredibly grateful to be off the bike, the only portion of the event where a fall or crash might end my day.
Run- 5:05 hours, transition about 6 minutes.
Started run about 4:40, very excited to be off the bike and doing the last portion of the event. I had about 2-3 miles of euphoria, which quickly wore off and I felt horrible for nearly all of the run. I am not sure what happened exactly, but I had feelings of bonking almost immediately. It has 4 loops through of beautiful old rail trail, including going over a trestle that was built originally in 1872 and rose over the town of Rosendale.
Rosendale Trestle, where eagles and beaten down runners tread
I thought about this run similar to the swim, and realized I had 8 "checkoff points" to get through. I hit the halfway point which seemed like 8 miles, and turned around, realizing I had to do the same thing 3 more times. On the return to checkpoint 2, I began to have chills and feverish feelings, almost hallucinating, running slowly, feeling nauseated and demoralized. I took 2 electrolyte pills and tried to eat more go and drink, but continued to feel awful. I came into Checkpoint one, completing the first lap, and one of the volunteers said "just one more lap to go!" which depressed me even more. The race director asked me what I needed, and I wanted to make sure I did not appear as bad as I felt, which was awful. I trudged along the same route to lap two, hit the halfway point, turned back, plodding, cringing and wondering how in the world I would finish, having at least 16 more miles. At mile 12, a very odd and surreal thing happened when about 35-40 feet off of the trail to the right, I heard a growl and rustling and saw a huge bear rearing its body to me aggressively. I was started, surprised, overwhelmed, and found out later that the two runners before me saw it directly on the trail with its two cubs, and had to divert off the trail to the road that ran next to it. I warned runners ahead of me and let the race director know ( I have no idea what he could do, perhaps give us bear spray). What was really depressing and scary was knowing that I would have to pass by the same spot 4 more times that day, and at least twice in the dark. I imagined them rerouting the race, forming an armada of volunteers on bikes to ward off runners, etc. None of which happened. I did have 3 cyclists riding in front of me by chance and let them be the imagined human shield that I needed. Starting the third loop, and halfway done, I finally felt a little better, not great, needing to pee and not being able to do it easily based on my stupid singlet constricting my balls and the pounding of running and being on my feet all day. The third loop we passed over the trestle around 7 or so and the sky was lighting up beautifully. I saw an eagle fly about 10 feet above the trestle, near some walkers who did not see him. It was the only loop where I felt remotely decent, and I actually passed a couple of runners for awhile (these runners passed me as I had to go to the bathroom for about 10 minutes). I had lost the chills and was now sweating heavily (my normal state in these things). At 7:30, we were asked to wear headlamps, which weren't really needed for another hour but I took one anyway. Completing the third loop, I knew that while I was going really slow, I would finish unless disaster struck. I ran slowly, station to station, and enjoying hearing the Klemzer music at the Rail Trail Cafe, playing until and least 9pm, seeing glorious locals dancing to horns, accordians, and all sorts of Old Country mishmash, I could hear the sound on the middle two laps and it was a marker of where I was, and where I needed to go. I turned around at checkpoint 7, and thought I would walk for a bit, which turned out to walking nearly all of the last 3.5 miles. I had no energy left in my legs, I saw the race director again (it was 9:30 by now) and he cheered me on. I introduced myself and we shook hands--he could tell how spent I was but said "you are why I do these things." I am not sure what he meant, but I suppose he was inspired by my effort if not my results. I really wanted to run the last 2 miles but had nothing left in my legs. I walked over the Rosendale Trestle and saw the same couple sitting there, watching the moon , nearly full, set up over the Southeastern sky. Another racer was next to me, he was a relay and was just on his second lap. at this point, it was completely dark, as it had been for all of the last lap. The last mile or so was tiring but gratifying, and there was just one person at the last final checkpoint, who gave me water. I headed down the hill to the finish line, and was walking through the finish line as one of the coordinators asked "is that a racer finishing?" seeming incredulous. "Hell yes it is a racer!" I yelled back as a photographer took my photo, below. I crossed the line, looked for amazing salty food that I could eat, but had no appetite for, and one of the race volunteers told me 'We have some bad news . . . No more medals are left, we gave them all away. We are so sorry!" At that point, I really couldn't give two shits. I just wanted to get off my feet and take a shower. "We will mail it to you soon!" I nodded and grabbed some food which I couldn't eat. Literally no one was left in the transition area, and my gear and stuff was spread everywhere
Finish- 15:08. Never had such a number had such meaning. Fifteen hours and 8 minutes of exertion, sweat, anxiety, doubt, uncertainly, song-singing and finish line imagining had ever taken place. I think I planned this moment for nearly 12 months, and every time I would take a run around Seward Park, or a bike ride on an awkward tri bike, or a massage of my hip from my doctor or therapist, I was thinking about this moment nonstop, though every business meeting, every night I could not easily sleep, every moment my flight was delayed and I had a chance to dream, was THIS moment, at 10:08 pm , on July 13th, on an 87 degree day in the Hudson Valley. I was finisher #6, with people both ahead and behind me quitting all around, I did not quit, though I was the last, but 6th best!, finisher. I could now die and tell my grandkids: "Iron Gramps did a Triathlon in 2019 when he was 50 years old!
stumbling into the finish line, last full ironman finisher, at 10:08pm Eastern Time
Back to reality, I gathered my bike under an electric klieg light that was grinding away, I sloppily packed all my stuff, and grabbed my bike, and struggled to my car, parked about a 5-10 minute walk away. I tried to eat some bananas but threw them up, and then I settled on some organic cheetos and sour cream salty chips I bought at the coop before. I turned on the Giants game on my phone app, and fuddled my way home, getting lost twice, and finally arriving around 10:45 or 11pm to my airbnb. I ate as much as I could from the sweet and salty snacks I had around, texted my family that I had finished and was safe, and showered the grime off of my body, and immediately fell asleep, probably around 11:30pm.
Ironman Rests, and Looks Back
Thinking about the race for the past year, and wondering how I might finish, I thought I might run a "slow" marathon of 4:30-maybe 4:45, but I ended up with a 5:33 run, walking most of the last hour. I tried very hard not to walk, but the last two hours I had so little energy that running was just exhausting, while walking was fine. I saw many other "elite" runners walking, and I know that at least 3 people dropped out, either in front of me or behind me. So my final finish of 15:08 was about 8 minutes longer than I could imagine the slowest speed taking me. I suppose the hilly bike ride was a disadvantage, and the hot, humid 87 degree weather certainly did not help. It really did not matter, and now I have a doable number to "break" when I try another one next summer. I have been reading a lot lately about the overall decrease in Triathlon memberships, and how the sport is not growing. I really don't care that much. I actually enjoyed how small this event was. I do not need to be motivated to complete these events, and I do not need a worldwide brand to make my experience any more valid. I just love the challenge of endurance and mental sharpness required to complete these events. I think the fact that I felt mentally strong allowed me to complete this event, as I had never felt worse running a marathon in my life. But I did do it, and I did complete it, and it was all worth it.
near Kingston/Woodstock New York, Hudson Valley
5:45am, pulled into the parking lot at Williams Lake and shuffled off to the starting point, getting my gear organized. The crowd was light and refreshingly calm, so different from Ironman Events. I believe there were about 60-75 people entering the half (56 finished) and 15-20 entering the full (six people finished, including myself as the 6th, three people dropped out).
Swim- (1:50, though 2-3 minutes spent running to transition, so more like 1:47ish, transition was about 5:30
6:40- everyone headed off to the Lake for an in-water start. Water temp was low 80s, very warm for me and at least 20 degrees warmer than any other event swim I have done, and nearly everyone got rid of their wetsuits. The countdown happens and the halves and fulls took off, with some light banging around the first turn or two, but soon people spaced out and there was virtually no bodies banging into each other. I completed the first loop and felt slightly better, still overwhelmed about the three laps to go. I counted yellow markers, of which there were 16 points, and tried to simply focus on the next marker. Until I was halfway, I had dreaded doubt about completing the swim, but once I passed halfway it became and endurance battle, which I knew I would finish, if not thrive. The third lap came and went and then towards the last half of the 4th lap, euphoria stepped in and I felt confidence in finishing. The sprinters who were waiting to swim all applauded my finish (and all the faster swimmers who finished before me) and I stumbled to where I put my shoes, drank a coconut water and ate a bar, and walked/ran to the transition.
Bike: 7:31, two loops, transition to run was 6:40 minutes
Ashokan Resevoir, Upstate New York, bike ride went around this twice I was out the chute and on my bike, a little delirious and trying to get settled--the first few miles on the bike are always disorienting to me. I had sprinters flashing past me going twice as fast, and the hills the first 5 miles were significant and exhausting. I wheeled through the turns, trying to keep a regular cadence, and got some water at the first stop. We curled around the resevoir slowly, in some nice forests, with little traffic (It was still early). Then at Boiceville you turn right onto a busy highway with cars going 65 miles per hour but a nice wide shoulder for the rollers for the next 10-12 miles. Passing through Shokan and West Hurley (and curiously eying the turnoff for Woodstock), the route finally bends off the main highway, and you are on quieter roads, including a brief period where you get a full view of the Ashokan Resevoir. Back onto 213, and then again to 209, and to the "finish" line, where it is done all over again. The second loop was much hotter than the first, probably in the low 80s at start and high 80s at the end, where I finished at 4:30, struggled into the bike corral incredibly grateful to be off the bike, the only portion of the event where a fall or crash might end my day.
Run- 5:05 hours, transition about 6 minutes.
Started run about 4:40, very excited to be off the bike and doing the last portion of the event. I had about 2-3 miles of euphoria, which quickly wore off and I felt horrible for nearly all of the run. I am not sure what happened exactly, but I had feelings of bonking almost immediately. It has 4 loops through of beautiful old rail trail, including going over a trestle that was built originally in 1872 and rose over the town of Rosendale.
I thought about this run similar to the swim, and realized I had 8 "checkoff points" to get through. I hit the halfway point which seemed like 8 miles, and turned around, realizing I had to do the same thing 3 more times. On the return to checkpoint 2, I began to have chills and feverish feelings, almost hallucinating, running slowly, feeling nauseated and demoralized. I took 2 electrolyte pills and tried to eat more go and drink, but continued to feel awful. I came into Checkpoint one, completing the first lap, and one of the volunteers said "just one more lap to go!" which depressed me even more. The race director asked me what I needed, and I wanted to make sure I did not appear as bad as I felt, which was awful. I trudged along the same route to lap two, hit the halfway point, turned back, plodding, cringing and wondering how in the world I would finish, having at least 16 more miles. At mile 12, a very odd and surreal thing happened when about 35-40 feet off of the trail to the right, I heard a growl and rustling and saw a huge bear rearing its body to me aggressively. I was started, surprised, overwhelmed, and found out later that the two runners before me saw it directly on the trail with its two cubs, and had to divert off the trail to the road that ran next to it. I warned runners ahead of me and let the race director know ( I have no idea what he could do, perhaps give us bear spray). What was really depressing and scary was knowing that I would have to pass by the same spot 4 more times that day, and at least twice in the dark. I imagined them rerouting the race, forming an armada of volunteers on bikes to ward off runners, etc. None of which happened. I did have 3 cyclists riding in front of me by chance and let them be the imagined human shield that I needed. Starting the third loop, and halfway done, I finally felt a little better, not great, needing to pee and not being able to do it easily based on my stupid singlet constricting my balls and the pounding of running and being on my feet all day. The third loop we passed over the trestle around 7 or so and the sky was lighting up beautifully. I saw an eagle fly about 10 feet above the trestle, near some walkers who did not see him. It was the only loop where I felt remotely decent, and I actually passed a couple of runners for awhile (these runners passed me as I had to go to the bathroom for about 10 minutes). I had lost the chills and was now sweating heavily (my normal state in these things). At 7:30, we were asked to wear headlamps, which weren't really needed for another hour but I took one anyway. Completing the third loop, I knew that while I was going really slow, I would finish unless disaster struck. I ran slowly, station to station, and enjoying hearing the Klemzer music at the Rail Trail Cafe, playing until and least 9pm, seeing glorious locals dancing to horns, accordians, and all sorts of Old Country mishmash, I could hear the sound on the middle two laps and it was a marker of where I was, and where I needed to go. I turned around at checkpoint 7, and thought I would walk for a bit, which turned out to walking nearly all of the last 3.5 miles. I had no energy left in my legs, I saw the race director again (it was 9:30 by now) and he cheered me on. I introduced myself and we shook hands--he could tell how spent I was but said "you are why I do these things." I am not sure what he meant, but I suppose he was inspired by my effort if not my results. I really wanted to run the last 2 miles but had nothing left in my legs. I walked over the Rosendale Trestle and saw the same couple sitting there, watching the moon , nearly full, set up over the Southeastern sky. Another racer was next to me, he was a relay and was just on his second lap. at this point, it was completely dark, as it had been for all of the last lap. The last mile or so was tiring but gratifying, and there was just one person at the last final checkpoint, who gave me water. I headed down the hill to the finish line, and was walking through the finish line as one of the coordinators asked "is that a racer finishing?" seeming incredulous. "Hell yes it is a racer!" I yelled back as a photographer took my photo, below. I crossed the line, looked for amazing salty food that I could eat, but had no appetite for, and one of the race volunteers told me 'We have some bad news . . . No more medals are left, we gave them all away. We are so sorry!" At that point, I really couldn't give two shits. I just wanted to get off my feet and take a shower. "We will mail it to you soon!" I nodded and grabbed some food which I couldn't eat. Literally no one was left in the transition area, and my gear and stuff was spread everywhere
Finish- 15:08. Never had such a number had such meaning. Fifteen hours and 8 minutes of exertion, sweat, anxiety, doubt, uncertainly, song-singing and finish line imagining had ever taken place. I think I planned this moment for nearly 12 months, and every time I would take a run around Seward Park, or a bike ride on an awkward tri bike, or a massage of my hip from my doctor or therapist, I was thinking about this moment nonstop, though every business meeting, every night I could not easily sleep, every moment my flight was delayed and I had a chance to dream, was THIS moment, at 10:08 pm , on July 13th, on an 87 degree day in the Hudson Valley. I was finisher #6, with people both ahead and behind me quitting all around, I did not quit, though I was the last, but 6th best!, finisher. I could now die and tell my grandkids: "Iron Gramps did a Triathlon in 2019 when he was 50 years old!
stumbling into the finish line, last full ironman finisher, at 10:08pm Eastern Time Back to reality, I gathered my bike under an electric klieg light that was grinding away, I sloppily packed all my stuff, and grabbed my bike, and struggled to my car, parked about a 5-10 minute walk away. I tried to eat some bananas but threw them up, and then I settled on some organic cheetos and sour cream salty chips I bought at the coop before. I turned on the Giants game on my phone app, and fuddled my way home, getting lost twice, and finally arriving around 10:45 or 11pm to my airbnb. I ate as much as I could from the sweet and salty snacks I had around, texted my family that I had finished and was safe, and showered the grime off of my body, and immediately fell asleep, probably around 11:30pm.
Ironman Rests, and Looks Back
Thinking about the race for the past year, and wondering how I might finish, I thought I might run a "slow" marathon of 4:30-maybe 4:45, but I ended up with a 5:33 run, walking most of the last hour. I tried very hard not to walk, but the last two hours I had so little energy that running was just exhausting, while walking was fine. I saw many other "elite" runners walking, and I know that at least 3 people dropped out, either in front of me or behind me. So my final finish of 15:08 was about 8 minutes longer than I could imagine the slowest speed taking me. I suppose the hilly bike ride was a disadvantage, and the hot, humid 87 degree weather certainly did not help. It really did not matter, and now I have a doable number to "break" when I try another one next summer. I have been reading a lot lately about the overall decrease in Triathlon memberships, and how the sport is not growing. I really don't care that much. I actually enjoyed how small this event was. I do not need to be motivated to complete these events, and I do not need a worldwide brand to make my experience any more valid. I just love the challenge of endurance and mental sharpness required to complete these events. I think the fact that I felt mentally strong allowed me to complete this event, as I had never felt worse running a marathon in my life. But I did do it, and I did complete it, and it was all worth it.