Race War Stories: When all hell broke loose and you still managed to finish

Triathlon Forum
1

I’m sure we’ve all been there, when it seems like everything that could go wrong did, and you still managed to finish the race.

I think it was around '96 when I traveled about 2000 miles to Wildflower. During the race I had my first flat in several months… Damn glad I had my gear to do a quick change (and got lots of good vibes from everyone zipping by). Heh, it was also that race (before the flat) that I got hit by someone on the bike. I remember, it happened right in front of Cam W (who was watching). In my somewhat confused state I was just kind of looking down at myself and all I remember was him saying, “go like hell dude you are ok”. Finished the race pretty bloody and slower than I’d have liked but I finished it dammit!

What’s your war story?

2

Weekend before the Tour of the Gila, crash in a crit. Fork, front wheel and body crushed. Get 3rd to last place in the opening time trial. Manage to get myself back to the teens in the GC by the fourth day. Feeling good about my chances, think I can crack the top ten. Final day, I get a flat in a critical section of the race. I get a wheel from the follow vehicle, but the guy doesn’t know how to replace the wheel. Tell the guy to stop and that I’ll do it. Could not catch up to the pack because of the delay. Wind up in the 20s on the GC just out of the money. Find out afterwards the replacement wheel only had 60psi in it.

3

Xterra Maui, Oct 2004. Have just finished hauling ass down “The Plunge” on the bike and am feeling great about my race. Preparing to shift myself into overdrive and really start passing some people for the remaining 5 miles of bike leg (having passed my arch-rival at the top of the plunge). Pass by a kiawe tree and all of a sudden I hear this ugly crunching sound from my rear wheel and skid to a rapid stop. I look down in wonderment and see a large kiawe tree branch tangled up in my rear wheel and busted off rear derailleur (broken hanger). After yelling to the triathlon gods for a couple of minutes, I begin the tedious process (never having done it before) of going single speed. After a few false starts (and after all of my age-group rivals have passed me) I get back on the road. The only bright spot (other than managing to finish the race in a relatively decent time) was racing for awhile with One-Armed Willie Stewart (well, until he blew by me going downhill on the run). That guy is definitely one of the tough ones.

4

Mud in Your Eye 500 Mt. Bike race. Thought because I was a “fast” road rider, I could kick butt in a Mt. Bike race. Turned out to be very technical and it rained the night before making the course a nightmare. 80 of us lined up at the start and i hammer down this slick clay mud single track and dont see the first drop which has a three foot deep puddle at the bottom. Over my handlebars I go with about 6 guys landing on top of me. I pop up from under water and find my waterbottles, Gu and bike computer gone. I hop on and keep riding. I went over the handle bars four more times in 26 miles (couldnt remember the last time I went over them ever) and was a bloody mess. Someone gave me a Gu and I took a couple of sips of water at the single aid station and that was it. Three hours plus later I stumbled in ready to die. I decided then and there to stick to the road.

5

Very bad conditions at a local sprint a couple years back. Much rain, very gusty coastal wind. The swim gets cancelled, and they turn it into a du. Which means I’m actually ending up having to pass people on the bike for a change instead of being the one being passed. (I’m an average biker, but very slow runner)

I move out to pass someone, hit the nice slick white paint on the road, and my bike slides out from under me in one of those crashy sorts of ways. I pick myself up, discover bike is okay, discover that since the road is so bleeping wet that I’ve gotten off light in the road rash area- huge bump and minimal bleeding on one hip, hot spot on one hand.

Hey, I’m at the furthest part away from transition. As long as bike seems to be okay, I might as well ride back. If I keep moving now, I’ll probably be less stiff in the morning. Get back to transition, reassure sherpa that I’m okay despite the big giant hip contusion, and I’m not bleeding all that badly, so I might as well go do the run too since if I do I’ll probably be less stiff in the morning. I actually ended up having a pretty decent run by my standards. Begged a little bit of gauze off the ambulance crew so I didn’t bleed on the nice leather seats in the sherpa’s car, packed up, and headed home before they had results posted for the day.

Then I checked results on the web later that day, and it turned out I finished second in the big girl group.

And it’s been almost two years since that race, and I’ve still got a little bit of a bump on that hip.

6

3 weeks ago…

Get up at 4:30am to pack bike up for trip to SAC and the infamous Auburn Int’l Tri (I don’t care what the heck PC name they give it…will forever be the World’s Toughest in my book)…discover bike is gone. GONE!

My beautiful KM40 all ready to race…race wheels, Xlab, all the acouttrements…freakin stolen. And I gotta be on a plane in 6 hours!

Of course, nice gal that I am, I had loaned my old QR to a girl from swim team who was doing her first tri and I never thought to get her name, address or phone number…she was just Kendra from swimming. Of course the chances of finding her and retrieving bike proved to be nil.

Panicky email was sent to the local tri shop and a call to my coach was made. Was he sympathetic? To a point, but the bottom line was “get a bike, get on the plane and race”. Thank you so much.

Bike shop opened at 10 and a loaner bike was procured. A little less bike than I was used to…ok, a LOT less bike than I was used to…and it didn’t exactly fit like a dream…but we loaded that POS Javelin in the box and off to SAC I went.

Only to discover upon unpacking (I was NOT the packer) that the little button on the foreign-to-this-trigeek STI shifter was busted! Great!

Thanks to my gracious host, Larry CA, and the folks at Bicycle Business in SAC, I ended up with no excuse not to do the race. Sigh…

Needless to say, the ride was not fun! Not at all. Getting the sympathy “looking good, girl” comments from passing cyclists really sucked. The run sucked worse.

In the end, though, my coach was right. It was about mental toughness…a lesson I needed to learn.

The one thing I do know is that I will have to go back to Auburn, dammit. :wink:

G

7

These are fun to read! All excellent tests of the ST’ers fortitude.

8

2003, 1st triathlon. About mile 11 on the bike with very little biking experience, hit a pot hole, lost control, flipped over a guard rail. Ended up with 4 stitches in a finger and 5 stitches in my forearm.

I finished cause I was so mad at myself for wrecking. Was one big bloody mess though.

9

2004 Atomicman. Hot, humid hilly Tennessee. Went out on Friday night before the race for a couple beers because this wasn’t really my A race for the year. In fact, so burned out, that if I hadn’t talked a training partner into doing this as her first half-IM, I wouldn’t have gone. Anyway, getting ready to leave the bar Friday night, mission accomplished. A couple beers, going home at 11pm to get up and drive to TN next morning. Walking out, run into frat brother hadn’t seen in years. Next thing I know, it is 3am, I am doing shots. Then, 4 am, I am on my bathroom floor hugging the toilet.

Sat was terrible, hungover. Long drive.

Get into the race on Sun and don’t feel all that bad in the swim. 10 miles into the bike, cleat inexplictably comes off right shoe and sticks in pedal. I pull over at a turn around and spend 15 minutes getting it out of the pedal, because I don’t have my allen wrenches. Borrow one from someone and open up the pedal. Only one screw left, so I put cleat back on with it in the middle, and leave pedal wide open in case it happens again. Well, any time I applied real downward pressure, the cleat would turn and my foot would be perpendicular to the bike. I would have to jump off and hammer it back into place. Any upward pressure would cause shoe to come flying out of pedal. I basically did all the hills with just my left leg.

By then, the results of Friday night are hitting me again, and I stagger through a deathmarch run with no shade. Despite saying all week, that morning, and in all the packets that Gatorade would be on the run course, it was HEED, which is terrible. But I have never DNF’ed, and so I just staggered through, jumped in the car and drove back.

My coach now calls one-legged drills on the bike “Patricks”.

10

2002 Buffalo Springs Lake tri. It was my first half IM, and only my third tri ever. I had no idea how to train for a half, I was on a 57 cm QR when I should have been on a 61, and I had never ridden a hill as long or steep as those eight on the course. Our largest “climbs” here in South Georgia are mere bumps to most people. I went in the race horrendously undertrained and with no idea what to expect. Swim was OK, but by that second hill coming out of the park, my quads were cramping and I knew I was in for a long day. I let my mind wander, and a deep sense of fear set in within minutes. I actually had a minor crash at the 12 mile turnaround (I think that’s where it was), and finally decided right then and there that I had come too far to let the race beat me up like that. I decided to finish no matter what. After a 3:45 bike split, I headed out on the run, which quickly turned into a walk. Both my quads and calves were cramping severely, and I was even having trouble walking. My debacle only got worse as the race wore on. I eventually finished in 7:43; my “run” was exactly 3:00. Surprisingly, I did not finish last in my AG (but I was pretty close). That really opened my eyes to what the sport of triathlon takes. I have wanted to go back to Lubbock ever since, but I just haven’t been able to get out there. I would love to do the race again. I still have some unfinished business on that course.

RP