2019: A Look Back and a Look Ahead

LOOKING BACK

In December 2018, I posted the following tentative race schedule for the upcoming year (2019):

• Bentonville half marathon (March 30)
• Hippity Hop half marathon (virtual) (April 20)
• Tour de Hoot (100 miles-bike) (May 5)
• Goose Pond Island Half-Iron distance triathlon (May 26)
• Full Moon 25K (July 20)
• Another half-iron distance triathlon TBD (~October)
• full marathon TBD (~December)

How did it go?

• Bentonville half marathon (March 30) – Done! New half PR of 1:33:04.
• Hippity Hop half marathon (virtual) (April 20) –  Done! 1:40:37.
• Tour de Hoot (100 miles-bike) (May 5) – Chose not to do this event due to heavy storms in the area.
• Goose Pond Island Half-Iron distance triathlon (May 26) – Done. 5:56:02. Rough race.

• Full Moon 25K (July 20) – Chose not to do this race because I decided running 8 miles up a mountain did not sound like fun after all.
• Another half-iron distance triathlon TBD (~October) – River Roux 70.3 (November 1) – Done! New 70.3 PR of 5:13:53 including a new half marathon PR of 1:31:30 and 1st place overall female win.

• full marathon TBD (~December) – BCS Marathon (Dec. 8) – Done! 3:26:10.

I did 5 of my 7 planned events and added 5 others during the year:

Jackrabbit 5K virtual race (April 8) – Biked 42.3 miles before running an all-out solo 5K in 21:26 (6:55/mile). A car ran me off the road at 2.5 miles, where I promptly stepped in a hole and fell down (included in time). It was misery, but I did it for the medal.

Sandhills half-marathon (Valentine, NE; June 8) – 1:39:13 for 2nd overall female.

Swan Lake half-marathon (Viborg, SD; June 9) – 1:39:53 for 1st overall female.

Big Dam Bridge 100 Bike Tour (September 28) – 5:10:34 (19.3 mph); also ran 3 miles afterwards

DIY  SwimRun @ Lake DeGray (October 5) – 8,550 yards swimming and 13.3 miles running divided over 6 legs in 5:26:42.

My main goal for the year was to improve my half iron-distance PR and to win something. As luck would have it, I achieved both of those goals at the same race (River Roux). However, before that awesome day, I had already notched a win (finally!) at the Swan Lake half marathon. In those respects, it was a successful year!

The Break Down

Swimming

Total distance: 216,350 yards (122.9 miles)

I’ve only had 3 years (2014, 2015, and 2017) with more mileage in the last 20 years. I have not done any special swims outside of my two half-iron swims and the SwimRun, but I have swam my fastest this year. When I returned to the pool in 2010 after not swimming at all for 6 years, my lap times (per 50 yards) were well over 1 minute (as slow as 1:12). It has taken a full decade of incremental improvement, but I finally got below 50 seconds/50 yards. My best was 0:48.8/lap for 45 laps on October 23. There were so many times I really thought this would never happen. There is room for me to improve some more, but whether I am willing to dedicate my time and energy to it is iffy.  Improved times in the pool have translated poorly to improved times in the swim leg at my triathlons so the motivation is just not there.

New gear: nothing major really – a couple new swimsuits, hand paddles, a SwimSafe buoy for open water, and two new pairs of Speedo goggles (vanquisher 2.0 and EV)

Biking

Total distance: 4,229.7 miles

I rode 75 miles less than last year but more than in 2016 and 2017. Overall, it was my 7th highest mileage year out of the last 20. I only did one century ride and two races (half irons) involving cycling. With all those miles, you’d think I would have more to write home about, but I guess the dog bite on October 18 was the biggest incident.

New gear: I got one new pair of bike shorts (Pactimo), a new chain or two, and a new saddle.  I didn’t even buy any new jerseys, gloves, or socks this year!

I need a new chainring for Fugio. I want a tri bike, and I would benefit from a power meter. It seems most cyclists have smart trainers now and are on Zwift and Strava. I feel left out and left behind.

Running

Total distance: 1,244.3 miles (I plan to run a couple more times before the 1st so will update this later with the final tally.)

With the exception of 2018 (1,418.7 miles), this is the most I have ever run in one year, and I’ve been running for over 20 years. I ran one full marathon, 4 standalone half marathons (2 of them on back-to-back days), 2 half-marathons at the end of 70.3 tris, and one 5K. I did lots of brick runs off the bike too. I improved my half marathon PR twice and ran my 2nd fastest marathon ever (out of 16 attempts). I have ended the year somewhat injured. My right upper hamstring tendon has been bothering me for the last couple months. This is the same injury I had in 2017, except that was my left leg. I had to run slowly for many months, and it gradually went away so here’s hoping that works again.

New gear: several pairs of shoes (including the Nike 4%), a new hat (Ciele), a few new shirts/singlets, 4 new pairs of shorts (2 compression – Nike Pro and Craft, 2 regular – both Rabbit brand), and a Simple Hydration water bottle

LOOKING AHEAD

I’m committed (already paid/registered) to running my 2nd Boston Marathon on April 20, and I deferred my 2019 entry to the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon to December 13, 2020. Other than those events, who knows? It’s hard to set any goals when I don’t know if my hamstring is going to play nice or not.

I am also switching to an electronic workout log. After over 20 years of keeping a paper log, I decided it was time so I made an Excel spreadsheet with all the categories I need and none that I don’t.

Finally, I have decided to discontinue this blog. After over 7 years, I think it has run it’s course. But more importantly I feel my time and effort is better spent doing other things. I could write a whole blog about why I am choosing not to blog any more, but it would be pretty dark so I’ll just end on a polite note.

Thanks to my loyal readers (Mom, Daniel, Rob, Jerry, and Tif) who took the time to read, to care, and to provide comments. Your feedback was my only reward for having written.

This is where the Iron Rabbit hops away into the sunset.

 

The Big Coney Stampede! (AKA: Bryan-College Station (BCS) Marathon)

When marathoners plan, their old injuries just laugh.

I never planned to run the BCS marathon. Instead, I had been planning for months to run the Gulf Cost Marathon in Biloxi, MS this coming weekend (Dec. 15th).  Mom was going to run it too, and Mike was going to run the half. Then we would all repeat in January at Biloxi’s sister race, the Louisiana Marathon. We would go home happy with 3 shiny new medals.

Like so many marathon plans, these were disrupted by injury – not mine for once but mom’s. After the 18-mile long run, her ITB said “Nope. Not happenin'” So we deferred our entries to December 2020.

Plan B is hatched: a hail marython 

That’s when I went looking for a marathon around the same time that was within driving distance. It came down to BCS (Dec. 8), the Dallas White Rock (BMW) marathon (Dec. 15th), or the San Antonio Rock ‘n Roll marathon (Dec. 8). BCS had the best reviews (in fact, it is currently the highest rated marathon in Texas on marathonguide.com) and was closer than San Antonio so I picked it. This meant I would have to be ready to race a week sooner than originally planned so I had to reduce my taper from 3 weeks to 2. Three weeks always seems too long to me anyways so I was fine with that change.

Needs a catchier name

Bryan-College Station marathon is a mouthful, and BCS marathon is not very catchy so I decided I would rename it the Big Coney Stampede! (A coney is a rabbit, BTW.)

Much better.

Training revisited/Negative portenders

My 16-week build-up had gone mostly as planned. Notably, I was strong and consistent on my two longest runs (20 and 22.2 miles), averaging 7:56/mile on both. My right hamstring and upper hamstring tendon gave me grief off and on for the last couple months, but I had managed to keep things from blowing up. Still, I knew going in to the race it was not 100%. To add to that, my throat had started hurting the day before the race and was very sore race morning. I pride myself on my strong immune system, but in two weeks prior to the race, I had sick people coming at me from all directions – students, coworkers, friends, strangers…was it possible an invader had snuck past my defenses and into the fortress of Penny?

Commence the Big Coney Stampede!

I hardly slept the night before (maybe 1:30 am to 5 am), but that’s not unusual. The race started right on time at 7 am. It was a humid 50 degrees and quite foggy. The guy standing behind me at the start had bib no. 1 so I asked how one gets that prized number. In this case, it was 1. pay an extra $100 to be a VIP (to which I say the same thing as mom’s ITB: Nope.Not happenin’) and 2. get lucky when they assign the numbers. So…I’ll never get bib no. 1.

Course map: full marathon in green; half in blue

3,000 runners sitting on GO!

Quarter 1: Miles 0-6.5 (It’s still early.)

As we took off from the start, a dog barked incessantly at the passing runners. With a stream of 3,000 marathoners and half marathoners to pass by, someone remarked “that dog is going to get really tired.”

 

A couple guys in front of me were running together, with one explaining to the other reasons why various people will take off as fast as they do. The explainee’s shoe laces were already untied less than a half mile in. He acknowledged this but didn’t stop to tie them. I was running so close to him I was afraid I might trip over his shoelaces. Eventually he did stop (right smack in the middle of the road) to tie them and then sprinted to catch back up with his buddy.  Bad strategy.

The marathoners had blue/purple race bibs, and the half marathoners had turquoise bibs so anytime I got passed, I stole a quick glance to see which distance the passer was doing. I didn’t have to worry about that for long though because the half distance route split from the full at about 4 miles.

I found myself running with a couple of men and struck up a conversation because what else was there to do? I learned they were from Denver, CO. They talked about how easy it was feeling to run here since they were used to altitude. I was jealous I didn’t have high-altitude adaptation, yet I was still keeping up pretty easily. One of the pair was a white guy wearing white compression sleeves and a blue tank top with a white puzzle piece and the slogan “Autism Speaks” on the back. The other looked like a Kenyan and reminded me of Eliud Kipchoge when he spoke. They thanked every police officer, volunteer, and spectator.  The white guy’s running form didn’t look nearly as fluid, and I wondered if they would actually stay together the whole race. I was scared to ask what finishing time they were aiming for because it might confirm I was running way too fast (or not fast enough).

I saw Daniel for the first time somewhere between miles 4 and 5.  I was feeling good so I smiled and gestured to him.

Colorado duo in the background

During training, I never monitored my mile splits and planned to run the race by feel as well, but I did have a time goal (<3:30) so thought it would be good to check in a few times here and there. I had decided to check my time 1/4 of the way through the race at 6.05 miles. It didn’t dawn on me until much later in the race that 1/4 was 6.55, not 6.05. Geez Penny, do you even math? A split of 51 minutes would put me on pace for a 3:30 finish so when I saw 45 minutes and change at 6.05, I just thought I was having a fantastic race and putting time in the bank. The fact that I was not actually 1/4 of the way through aside, the marathon doesn’t work that way.  “Banking time” doesn’t work; it just blows up in your face later in the race. Yet, I continued on without adjustment.

We were at the northernmost point of the course, which made a 3-sided box, so Daniel was able to catch me at mile 6 and at the 10K mark (6.2 miles) by hopping over one street. I had been worried it would warm up quickly so I was glad to see the fog hanging around and keeping the sun’s rays at bay.

 

6.2 miles down, 20 miles to go…

Just after crossing the timing mat for 10K

Quarter 2: Miles 6.5-13.1 (Cracks are forming.)

When we turned southward (actually southeastward because College Station is laid out on a ridiculous diagonal grid) and into a headwind, I tucked in behind Autism Speaks. I haven’t drafted a lot in my running career, but I was doing it now, and it really did help.

I actually felt like I was going too slow and needed to speed up but knew it was best to just hold my position. A short Asian guy wearing a BEEF singlet had been running with the Colorado duo and me off and on, and when he saw Daniel poised on the side of the road a little before mile 8 with his professional-looking camera, he threw him some peace signs. I just threw him a smile.

Daniel and I had driven the course the afternoon before, and I knew there were a couple of hills coming up after the next turn at mile 8. I remembered the course description saying it was mostly flat but with rolling hills from miles 9-11…or was it 11-13? It must be 9-11 since I remember hills on this road (Villa Marie).

Well, there were rolling hills from 9-11, but it turns out those were just the hors d’ oeuvre for the ones to come from 11-13. Trotting along the shoulder of  Villa Marie, the CO due pulled away, and I started to feel fatigue and tightness in my legs for the first time that day. I chalked it up to the hills and told myself I  would start feeling more fluid again once the terrain leveled out. I even reeled in one of the women who had been ahead of me the whole race so far so I must be holding it together pretty well. Right? BEEF was still running just ahead of me and stopped abruptly. Wonder what’s wrong with him?

It remained very foggy, and the moisture in the air condensed on my eyelashes. My vision was blurry, and I saw a guy standing on the sidewalk wearing a maroon and gray sweatshirt that said AGGIES. For a second, I thought it said REDDIES. I passed an unofficial aid station serving beer and Vodka Jell-O shots. Hard pass on those. They had a lot of clever signs on the shoulder that I tried to read as I ran past. One showed how much it would cost to get an Uber from there to the finish.  At that point, I still had all the faith in the world that my legs could get me there no problem. Ah, but those early miles of the marathon will lie to you, and I had built my faith at the alter of false promises.

At mile 11, I turned onto Traditions Dr, the road that winds through Texas A&M’s golf course, and that’s where the real rolling hills started. It’s also where I started to really come undone. For one, I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. I thought I had just finished the hilly section, and I did not remember these hills AT ALL from when we drove the course yesterday. Neither my head nor my legs took to them kindly.

On the long inclines, I felt like I was taking tiny strides, legs heavy as concrete moving through quicksand. To make matters worse, another runner was rapidly approaching me from behind. I had just passed a relay exchange point so I thought maybe it was a relay runner with fresh legs. Go on with your fresh legs! When I glanced back, I saw a whole pack of runners right on my heels. I was miserable and suffering and just wanted them to go around and go on.

I caught back up with Eliud lookalike and asked where his buddy was. “He’s just up ahead. I’m not feeling it…” He would end up finishing in 3:31 and his Autism Speaks buddy in 3:23. BEEF was running again and passed by quickly. (I would later see him stop again, and he ultimately finished in 3:49.)

Typically, I have very good spatial awareness and know where I am “on the map” of a route at all times. Granted, this route had about 346 turns and was anything but straightforward, but I lost my bearings as I exited the golf course. I started meeting runners coming from the opposite direction and thought we had merged back with the half marathon route. It took me a minute to realize that this was just the very short out-and-back section right before the halfway mark. A clear sign of my mounting mental fatigue.

Quarter 3: Miles 13.1-19.15 (Pain and despair.)

At 13.1, I checked my watch again. I needed to be at 1:44 to finish in 3:30, and I was at 1:40. I can slow down 8 minutes and still break 3:30. Wait…is that right? I didn’t trust my math. I didn’t trust my legs. I did not feel in control of my body. What is happening to me?!

At mile 14, a very strong urge to walk suddenly washed over me. Oh, this is not good. Not good, not good. Not good at all. I can’t start walking at 14 miles. There is still a long ways to go. Those 8 minutes will disappear fast if I start walking. And so the inner battle between wanting to stop and wanting to keep going began…and I would fight it all the way to the finish.

The sun tried to pop out a bit so I took my sunglasses off my hat to put them on, but they were all fogged up. I tried to wipe the lenses on my shirt, but all that did was smear them. I thought I would hand them off to Daniel and ask him to clean them when I saw him next. In the meantime, why not add squinting into the sun to my current batch of misery?

I told myself to slow down and go as slow as I wanted but just keep moving. Just.keep.moving. Runners started passing me, including a woman. I had no fight in me and shifted to survival mode. Miles 15, 16, and 17 came and went in a blur of pain and fatigue. I forced down gels and sipped on water. Who knew plain vanilla could be so overwhelming sweet? (I ate gels at 0:40, 1:15, 1:45, 2:15, and 2:50.)

Choking down another vanilla GU

Somewhere, I dropped a fuel belt bottle and had to turn around and bend down to pick it back up. The effort was the equivalent of lifting a Buick LeSabre off a small child.

I sorta kinda knew where I was on the route but was also quite disoriented. My Nike 4%’s that had felt so plush and springy at the start now felt no better than $5 Walmart sneakers. There was pain in my right quad concentrated in the area of my now-healed dog bite. I had side stitches that made it hurt to breathe, and my right hamstring was being very vocal about how much it did not like what I was up to this morning.

For much of this time, a bow-legged, shuffling, heavy lander was running just behind me. The sound of his footsteps was driving me insane.

IN.SANE!

We passed the 18-mile marker in the parking lot of the George H. W. Bush presidential library, and at 18.1, I couldn’t stand it any more. I stopped to walk – not just to rest and stretch out my side stitches but so the guy running behind me would go the hell on! He offered encouragement as he passed. Before long, another young guy passed and encouraged me on as well. I had not been walking long (only 5 hundredths of a mile) but didn’t know how many more times I would have to stop so I knew it was best to keep the breaks short. I quickly caught back up to the young man who said it was his first marathon. It wasn’t long before I was back in the company of the bow-legged, shuffling, heavy lander. I have no memory of how much longer I ran with him at that point.

It’s not a close-up, but you can see the bow-legged shuffler far left in the green shirt.

By some miracle, I was able to calculate that 3/4 of the way through the race would be 19.15 miles and that I needed to be at 2:35 to be on 3:30 finishing pace. I had slowed 3 minutes from my last time check but still had a 5-minute buffer. I may need every second of it.

Quarter 4: Miles 19.15-26.2 (Please be over. Please be over.)

When I made the corner at mile 19.5, I finally got to see Daniel again. I didn’t even have it in me to smile and had forgotten all about my sunglasses, but it had clouded back up so that didn’t really matter.

This is not my happy face.

There have been previous marathons where I started too fast, hit a bad patch mid way or later on, but then rallied to a strong finish. While I was feeling better than I had at 14 miles, I still didn’t feel anything approximating good or strong. It pained me to be passed by people in these late miles when I was usually the one doing the passing.

Mile 7.5 vs. Mile 19.5

Miles 19.5-22.5 went through the heart of the Texas A&M campus, and there were some especially loud and energetic groups of cheering spectators. One group had spin bikes set up in the road, and their screams were positively deafening. But so was the voice in my head saying this hurts, this is not fun, I just want this to be over, marathons suck, I never want to run another marathon…

My memory of those late miles is very…foggy. I think another woman passed me just before mile 21. I didn’t know or care what place I was in. The pain in my upper hamstring tendon was sharp, and I could feel angry blisters on my toes. As I was leaving the section of the course that went through campus, a train passed nearby. I hope I don’t have to stop and wait on the train. 

When I got down to 4 miles remaining, I started to feel some hope that this terrible ordeal would in fact end at some point. We merged back in with the half marathon course (for real this time), and nearly all of the halfers still out were walking. The last few miles went through a neighborhood, and when I reached 24 miles, I checked my time and did some quick calculations…if I can run the last 2 miles in 8 minutes each and the last 0.2 in 2 minutes…I’ll be at the finish in 18 minutes. Eighteen minutes sounded like forever.

It was going to be kind of close, but my goal was still within reach. This gave me much-needed renewed vigor. For most of the race, my watch had been ahead of the mile markers despite minding my tangents as best I could so I figured I needed a little extra buffer to account for that. During mile 25, I kept tabs on my pace to make sure I stayed under 8:00. At mile marker 25, my watch and the flag were actually synced up again. I don’t know how that happened but was glad. I did one final check at 25.2 miles and allowed some relief to settle over me that I was indeed going to come in under 3:30, but I still had to suffer through that last mile.

And oh that last mile can feel sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo long.

I passed another woman. Maybe that will bump me up in my age group. I also passed a man who recognized me from the start. It was bib no. 1. He said I was doing great. Money from this race goes to help save children from Ghana from slavery, reunite them with their families, and send them to school. The last 0.2 miles of the course was lined with pictures of these kids on both sides of the road. I had never been so happy to see a bunch of kids in my life. There was a slight downhill to the finish line, and I gave it all I had left.

The announcer said “Number 747 coming in…”

He totally missed the opportunity there to say “…coming in for a landing.”

Like the 747, I am (at least in my head) large, heavy, and round (for a runner)…but still somehow fast.

Official finish time: 3:26:10 (my 2nd fastest marathon to date)

Daniel was waiting for me at the finish. I was so glad to see him and so glad it was over.

I carried sunglasses on my head for 26.2 miles and never wore them.

 

I would up 6th overall female (top 3%) and 2nd in my 35-39 age group.

An Arkansan snuck into the top 10!

Link to full race results

Awesome finisher’s medal (A++), and the age group award was a Christmas ornament (meh).

 

All finishers also got a zip-up hoodie (which came in handy to keep me warm until we got back to the truck after the race).

Daniel took great care of me before, during, and after the race.

Hindsight is 50/50

I don’t know why the second half of this marathon went south so badly. Yes, I started too fast but not that much too fast. I’ve started too fast in plenty of races and never crashed so hard so early.  My two longest runs were both hillier than the race, and yet my max heart rate for the 22.2 miler was the same as my average for the whole marathon. I didn’t sleep well the night before, but I rarely do. I had slept well in the week leading up to the race. I was coming down with some kind of illness, and I have very little experience with how that can affect my running as I rarely ever get sick. So maybe that was it?

What I do know is this: I didn’t enjoy running this marathon, and that should always be a signal to re-evaluate things. The conclusion I’ve come to is this: I need to eat better and be at a reasonable racing weight if I want to run fast, or I need to stop trying to be fast and just have fun. If I keep trying to have it both ways, I’m going to keep being miserable for 26.2 miles.

Boeing hypersonic jet

 

Guest Blog: Daniel’s Big Dam Bridge 100 Sherpa Recount

Before you start reading: I do not know why the spacing (or lack of) got all weird in this blog, but it won’t let me fix it! 

The Big Dam Bridge 100 bike ride/tour took place on Saturday, September 28th in Little Rock, AR. This was my second time to do the BDB (read about 2014 here), and I used it as training for my upcoming half ironman. I also had not done a century ride this year so wanted to get one in as I like to do at least one per year.

At this point, I am going to turn the blog over to Daniel and let him tell you about the BDB 100 from his point of view. I think you will gain a new appreciation of all he goes through to capture these excellent photos and provide support and encouragement to me along the way. (Any comments by me are in blue.)

100-Mile Course Map

I left Penny at the main street bridge port-a-potty. She continued on to the start line. When I arrived at the start line, there were already several hundred riders packed in behind the line like sardines. Surprisingly, I spotted Penny right away closer to the front. She saw me and waved and I snapped a couple of pictures.

Sardinesque conditions at the starting line

I then went to look for a good place to get some pictures once everyone started. I almost never get a good picture at the start as there are so many people. Often, I don’t see Penny start because of so many bikes. This time was no different. I took a lot of pictures as bikes passed hoping to pick her out later (I couldn’t).

After bikes passed for a couple of minutes, I bolted to the truck, which was parked a quarter mile or so away. When I got to the truck, I noticed a steady stream of bikes circling the parking lot. I knew I would be stuck for a bit. I didn’t like this as I knew I had to get to my first rendezvous point at the 20 mile mark by 8:00 am to see Penny. After the bikes thinned out enough to where I thought I could get out, I pulled to the parking lot exit. There, I noticed both ends of the road the parking lot exited to was blocked by police. I pulled directly across the street to a Hardee’s to observe. The police were stopping all traffic from attempting to cross the bikes’ path, which was a good thing. So, I grabbed a small coffee at Hardee’s and waited in my truck. As soon as I started seeing traffic let through, I pulled out. At this point, it was 7:35 am, and I had 25 minutes to get all the way to Barrett Road and Hwy 10. Traffic was not too bad and I arrived right at 8:00 am.

At the Rendezvous 1 (R1), I noticed an officer directing traffic for the cyclists coming off of Barrett onto Hwy 10. I pulled into the parking lot of King’s One Stop on Hwy 10 and walked to the intersection. The officer had his work cut out for him. He had to stop every vehicle on Hwy 10 and wait for a break in the cyclists large enough to let vehicles through, which wasn’t often. The cyclists were coming off a hill on Barrett so everyone was hard on the brakes. The intersection seemed to catch many by surprise as they quickly scrubbed off speed and warned cyclists behind them of the intersection.

I immediately started looking for Penny. Since I arrived at the 20 mile mark right at one hour, I figured there was an 80% chance I would see her, thinking maybe the bike traffic at the start kept her under a 20 mph average. I waited for a while and began worrying I arrived too late. I shouted out to a guy across the road asking the time (I didn’t have my phone), and he said 8:20…. I must have just missed Penny. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see her, turning back to hop back in the truck.

Pulling away from R1, I decided to try to do the direct catch-up method and just drive with and pass the cyclists on Hwy 10 until I caught up with Penny. As I got into the cyclist stream, I immediately knew this would not work. I was in a wall of cyclists with no opportunity to pass. I ditched and did a 180 at the first opportunity. Time for Plan B. I always have backup plans and backup plans for those.

Plan B was to calculate an R2 point that I had more than enough time to reach, didn’t have to go with the flow of cyclists, and could easily break away from to head back to the finish line. Some quick route examination and calculator pecking put that point around the 50-mile mark, somewhere around Houston or Bigelow. There was also a breakaway road (hwy 60) I could use to head back out to I-40 and back to the finish, never having to get on the BDB 100 route. Now, I just had to get to R2, Houston/Bigelow.

To get to R2 without mingling with the 100-milers, I decided to come in from Hwy300/Hwy113. Turning onto Hwy 300, it was smooth sailing for about 4 or 5 miles. When I got to about the Lake Maumelle Dam, I came to the realization that I was now on one of the shorter bike routes….going with the flow. For several miles, I was just riding with the cyclists, unable to pass. A once spread out group behind me was now pretty tight and following closely. One guy got close to my left rear bumper and started talking to me in the rear-view mirror, saying things like ” I know you can’t pass, but you’re doing great!” I was finally able to pass a string of riders. When I did, a couple cyclists behind me passed with me. I was not able to fully break away from the cyclists until reaching Roland. Unfortunately, along the road to Roland, there were about a half dozen cyclists with flats. Continuing on north of Roland, I saw a handful of fast riders heading the opposite direction.

It appears someone intentionally scattered a bunch of tacks along parts of the route, leading to 100+ riders with flat tires:

https://katv.com/news/local/sheriffs-office-investigating-after-reports-of-tacks-along-big-dam-bridge-100-route

Just north of Bigelow on Hwy 113, I saw the first 100-milers heading opposite of my direction. It was a pretty large peloton being led by an unmarked police truck. On my way from Bigelow to Houston, I saw a dozen or more cyclists. When I got to Houston, I stopped at an aide station being operated by mostly teenagers and a handful of adults. As I was scouting out the best location to photo Penny, a guy (about 30) came over to chat a bit. I told him what I was doing and he told me a little about his group preparing for the event. I was closely watching the approaching cyclists, looking for Penny. About the time he started walking off, a large peloton crested the hill. Penny was part of this group. I quickly pulled up my Nikon D5000 and Nikkor 70-300mm lens and began snapping pictures or her. She saw me, waved, and continued to look flashy in her National Champion kit. Time to bolt for the truck and figure out R3.

Riding in a big group like this is very stressful but can also be fun.

I knew I would have very limited opportunities to photo her again. I needed to stay close to my exit road, and the only way to set up another shot was to catch up to her peloton, pass it, and set up down the road. I quickly caught up with her and snapped a few picks from the truck.

The only ponytail in the pack!

I drove around and pulled into a mini storage parking lot and set up for some pictures. I saw Penny again and this time many of the other riders in her group waved.

The guys all thought Daniel was one of the official event photographers so he got a lot of waves.

This would be the last time to see Penny on the route. To get any more pictures, I would have had to just keep passing the same group and navigating through other riders on a narrow-ish road. Safety in mind and not wanting to be a distraction, I peeled off on Hwy 60 to make my way back to the finish line.

Back at the Dickey Steven’s Park parking lot, I was able to get a slightly closer parking space. I was about an hour ahead of Penny. I walked down to the finish line and started looking for a good place to get her finishing line photos. There was a good spot about 100 feet upstream of the finish line. I could get her coming in and a photo of her going across the finish line. As I waited, I saw many riders finish. Most were probably finishing the shorter courses. Some were really hauling, and I knew they were finishing the 100. As Penny’s ETA arrived, I started using my Nikkor 70-300mm as binoculars, checking the distant arriving cyclists for the Iron Rabbit. And then there she was, on that cool Pinarello.

Those two guys rode my wheel the last 10 miles, but I didn’t mind because the guy in white yelled out to everyone we approached: “On your left! Watch out!” in a loud booming voice with some kind of accent.

As she approached the finish line, I started snapping pictures. Before crossing the finish line, she slowed down and did a U-turn. She shouted at me something along the lines of, “half mile short.” (It was one full mile short. Not acceptable!)

I knew exactly what had happened. The course was not 100 miles, and knew she wasn’t going to finish without actually doing a full 100 miles. She returned a few minutes later, and I was able to get a second set of finishing photos that were better than the first.

Arkansas River, Broad Street bridge, and downtown Little Rock in the background

I walked down to congratulate and hug/kiss my fiancée who just finished a 100 mile ride at 19.3 mph!

But, she wasn’t finished…

What does Penny do at the end of a fast 100 mile ride? Run three miles, of course. We immediately started back for the truck so she could get ready for the run. Not wanting her to have to think much about the run, I briefed her on her run route. She left, running back through the BDB 100 finishing line crowd. I hopped on her bike and met back up with her just on the other side of the crowd. I pulled up beside her and gave her directions to the Clinton Bridge north ramp. I stayed close to her until we got to the bridge.

At the bridge, I pulled ahead a bit trying to figure out how to shift the gears on her Pinarello. Every time I tried to shift down, it went up another gear. Penny, who had caught up with me by now, shouted, “smooth side is up, textured side is down”. Now, able to ride up the bridge slightly faster than Penny running, I was able to set up for a few pictures at the top of the bridge. I rode just ahead of her, snapping a few pics from the bike. There were several pedestrians on the bridge. They would look up every time I quit pedaling as her bike makes a pretty loud ratcheting sound.

Penny, looking at her GPS watch distance, told me she was going to turn around just north of the Clinton bridge.

Closing in on the end of her run, heading back to the truck on River Front Drive, Penny asked if there was a way around the finishing line crowd. I said, “yep, stay right, follow me.” Instead of coming back through the crowds, we came in on a partially closed River Front Drive all the way back to the truck.  On this stretch, Penny was really running hard. I usually saw about 9 mph on the bike’s digital speedometer.

Once she finished, she really did not seem very tired which is pretty impressive.

Overall, I am very impressed with Penny’s superb 100+3, finishing the 100 miler at an impressive 19.3 mph and topping it off with a strong run (7:37 average).

I’m glad I could be out there with you and support you wherever I could. I love you, PenFish! (I love you too! Thanks for taking the time to share your unique BDB 100 experience with me and my blog readers.)

My Thoughts/Random Observations, etc. on BDB 100 2019 (in no particular order):

• The computer on my bike was going absolutely nuts while I was sardined in waiting to start. Even though I wasn’t moving, it kept showing readings of 50-80+ mph. I still don’t know what that was about.
• I was surprised I matched my average pace from 2014. The course had changed a little since then, and there are so many variables in 100 miles…yet I finished within 20 seconds of my 2014 time (5:10:14 vs. 5:10:34). 
• I was disappointed there was no iced coffee at the rest stop on top of Wye Mountain.
• I would bet money I was the only person who went for a run after.
• I was already in my easiest gear before I had even barely started the ascent up Wye mountain.  It was harder than I remembered, but I did pass a lot of people.
• I ran into my friend Nicki at the first rest stop. Both of her boys are Scouts so they were volunteering. We go all the way back to 2nd grade and were roommates our freshman year of college. It was fun to see her and a nice surprise! 
• I stopped for water 3 times, and Quaker chewy granola bars are pretty pathetic.
• I wore my 2018 USAT [ultra distance triathlon] National Champion jersey that I got for winning my age group at Redman 140.6, and this drew a lot of comments and compliments – which was attention I didn’t necessarily care for.
• People at the finish fest were RUDE and would not let you sit anywhere (“This chair is saved.”)
• Daniel’s cat (This is code for something most people won’t get and shouldn’t.)
• A man died on the Wye mountain descent. I rode past just after it happened. He hit a reflector in the road at high speed, causing his tire to blow. He then lost control of his bike, went off the side of the mountain, and was killed by the impact. This shook me up because that could have been anyone. When something like this happens, people always say “Well, at least he died doing something he loved.” For the record: I do NOT want to die riding my bike even if it is something I love. I would rather die at work and cut short an activity I don’t love. Read about the cyclist who died here: News Story
• I most likely will not do this ride again because it’s dangerous, and there are others I’d like to experience.
• It was a choatic and at times fun ride, but I can’t argue that it was great training.

Redemption at the River Roux

Back Story/Motivation

Often it is said that “It all starts with the decision to try (tri?)” In my case, it all started with the decision to buy. My fatal flaw is that I feel like I need a new tri kit for every race. Since I don’t race all that often, this is not really a big deal. However, this time I put the kit before the race. I hate shopping for clothes to wear to work or in everyday life, but I love shopping for workout gear. I had no intention of doing a fall half-iron distance race, but I found a tri kit from Wyn Republic that I absolutely loved. Throw in a discount code for new customers and free shipping, and it was Add to Cart! Buying that kit is what motivated me to find another half to try to redeem myself after the Goose Pond disaster. Motivation can come from unexpected places.

I chose the River Roux half iron-distance triathlon in New Roads, LA.

Training

Then I trained. Hard.

I trained in the heat of the summer that refused to end. Record-breaking heat in October. I did brick runs in the dark because I had to work most of the day. I trained through the stress of major changes at work, job uncertainty, and an impending pay cut. I trained through a pretty serious dog bite. At one point, I was trying to balance the training for a 100-mile bike tour, a long-course SwimRun, the River Roux half iron tri, and a marathon (coming up in December).

Dog bite 2 weeks out from race day

To borrow a phrase from Miranda Lambert “…you throw ‘em all in, and you put that sucker on spin. ‘Cause it’ll all come out, all come out in the wash…”

Except I wasn’t sure what my spin cycle was going to yield.

Race Week

The week leading up to the race was miserable. Constant stressing over the weather, how much to train vs. rest, am I getting enough sleep (never), what or how much to eat. Afraid to weigh myself and let a number get in my head. Dog bite itching. Bike issues.

 

Race Day: November 2, 2019

5:30 am wake up. Price-gouged by the Best Western in New Roads. Slept fairly well to YouTube video 10 hours of white noise. Quaker oatmeal squares with skim milk and grapes for breakfast. The usual. Arrive at race site and set up my transition area. #8. How did I get such a low number? Didn’t sign up early. Stressed and anxious. Snapping at Daniel over stupid stuff. Wrestle into wetsuit. Vaseline on neck. Red swimcap on. Latex. Hmmph. I prefer silicone. Air temp 40 degrees. Water temp 67 degrees. Young men wave goes off at 7:48 am. Mouth is dry. Barely can muster enough saliva to spit in goggles. Older men wave goes off at 7:51 am. Part with shoes. Ground cold on feet. Time to walk out on the dock. Exceedingly unpleasant on the bare feet. No time to dilly dally. Need to get in and acclimate. The moment I’ve been dreading. Back down the ladder and into water. Others are waiting on me to use the ladder so no hesitating. This is not so bad. Water begins seeping into wetsuit. There it is. It’s OK. You’re fine. Stick face in water. Dunk head under water. Tread water. Position myself at the front. Ready to go.

Swim: False River oxbow lake

7:54 am. 10-second countdown to go for ladies’ wave. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-start watch-3-2-1. Off and into the sun. Rectangular course. Can’t see on first side. Oh wait, there’s a giant orange buoy. Pumpkin. Head for that. See only a couple women swim ahead of me. Put my head down and get to work. Kick those feet. Kick ‘em I said! No pausing in kick cycle. I’m in my best swim shape ever. Stroke stroke stroke breathe. Stroke stroke stroke breathe. Sight. Repeat. Kick kick kick. Passed a few gents. No time for sightseeing. Can’t see anyway. Blazing sun. Haven’t swam in wetsuit in a while. Feels funny.

BEAST mode! haha!

Relief to make first right turn at yellow triangle buoy. Ahhh! I can finally see where I’m going. Kicked in face. It happens. Round second buoy. Steal glance at watch: 17 minutes and change. Crap. Hoping for 15. You know swim times don’t mean anything. Courses never accurate. Carry on. Bump into a couple other swimmers. Note swimmers WAY off course. Are they swimming for the opposite shore? Don’t swim into that paddle boarder. Keep pushing. Stroke stroke stroke breathe. Stroke stroke stroke breathe. Sight. Repeat. Kick kick kick. Pass some more folks. Wetsuit nice and toasty.

Make the last turn and head back to the dock. Big yellow triangle buoy marking the spot. Turn up the pace another notch. Reach the dock and grab for ladder. Climb out. Look at watch while running across dock: 35 minutes and change. S’OK. Cross timing mat.

Swim time: 35:19 (2^nd fastest female/12)

T1

Stumble around trying to get shoes on. Seems to take forever. Run up dock ramp then up stairs. More stairs. A third set of stairs. Stairs for days. Men around me are walking. Where’s your hustle, dudes? Remove watch and peel down top of wetsuit. Struggle to get shoes off. Flop down for assistance with continued wetsuit removal. Wetsuit off! Gather suit, watch, and shoes and head for bike rack. Concrete hurts feet. Veer onto carpeted runway. Cold air hits me. Whoo! Not pleasant. Keep moving.

Feet say “ouch!”

Toss wetsuit on ground. BlueSeventy is now a glorified rug. Towel off. Craft beanie and Smith helmet on. Hear Daniel shouting encouragement from outside of fence. Make eye contact with him so he knows I hear him. Smile. Can’t help that.

See those 3 men next to me? Yeah, they had a 3-6-minute head start on the swim 😛

DeFeet socks and LG shoes on. Praying boa wire doesn’t break. Has been looking frail. Boa holds! Change my mind and move timing chip over sock instead of under. Costs a few seconds. Sunscreened before with the Bullfrog 50. Not even going to faff around with that right now. Long sleeve jersey on over tri suit. Timex on right wrist. Dang it’s hard to strap a watch on the wrong wrist. Garmin on left wrist. Sunglasses on. Feel water dripping down legs. Better dry off a little more. Getting long-fingered gloves on is a massive struggle. Did these things shrink to an XXXS while I was swimming? The heck?! Hear others around me cursing as they attempt to put tight-fitting clothing on wet bodies. Unrack Fuigo. Wake up cyclocomputer. Roll out of parking lot and over mount line. Loud motorcycle idling nearby.

T1 time: 5:51. It is what it is. I did what I had to do. (4^th fastest female/12)

Bike

Internal dialogue goes back and forth between get up to speed and chill out it’s still very early. Sneak a few peaks of residential New Roads. Nice yards. Eat a moonberry Twinkie. 3 bites. Nothing stuck in teeth. That was an intentional choice given gloved phalanges. A guy ahead of me rides too close to the edge of the road and crashes into ditch. Woman swerves into my path. WATCH OUT!! Guy gets up. Probably more embarrassed than anything. Getting a little tired. Only 4 miles in?! Ride next to levee. Flat as a pancake so why am I hardly holding 17 mph? Doesn’t seem windy. Grass not flattened. Must be that stealth wind.

Ride over the mighty Mississippi on the Audubon Bridge. Massive. Long climb. Song lyrics pop into head: “You’ll never see nothing like the mighty Flynn.” Or is it Quinn? Yea, it’s Quinn. Glance down at water. Nothing about riding feeling smooth. Get passed. Add insult to injury. Recall seeing passer’s bike on the back of a vehicle somewhere yesterday. Metal grates over expansion joints. Glass on shoulder. Worry my paper thin racing tires will take a hit, and that will be it. I’m sure that day will come but [spoiler alert] not in the cards for today. Down side of bridge feels flat, not downhill. Not fair. Traffic control on point but Goose Pond set the bar really low.

Next 5 miles best forgotten. Legs tight, numb, and burning. Could hardly get over 15 mph. Guy who passed me on bridge not opening a gap. The same wind blows on everyone. Daniel waiting with fancy camera on other side of bridge. Wonder if he notices how slow I’m going. Attempt a weak smile. Sip chocolate Perpetuem. Mixed extra strong. Tastes like a milkshake. Passed-me-on-bridge-guy makes a U-turn at 15 miles. Ah, the Ragin’ Roux (shorter course). Dismiss any bad feelings over being passed. Continue straight ahead. Sign says “You’re about to get Roux’d!” Bring it. Finally starting to feel good. Tree lined roads block wind but also block sun. Shocked I’m not cold. Pleased. Even fingers are toasty.

This road surface is crap. Old cracked chip seal. Nothing I’m not used to. Sign warns “Dodgy road ahead.” Can’t get much worse. No riders around me. Brief panic I missed a turn. See another sign soon. Thank God. Raspberry Baptist Church. Cool name. Climb. Climb. Climb. Rollers. Turn onto a smoother road. Curvy and fun. Legs really coming around. More climbing. More passing of other riders. More sipping on milkshake. Took a fresh water bottle. Dinky little thing, crumples in my hand. 28 miles.

Half way. Fleeting feelings of fatigue. Another sign: “Ride for YOU.” YES! That’s what I do. Rollers for days. Looking forward to mile 32 (highest point on course) – oh hey there’s a sign for it. What a perfect place for Daniel to be too. He loves to seek out those high points. Informs me I’m 3 minutes behind leading female. Keep the pace up. Pedal pedal pedal. Sip. All downhill from here. And a tailwind! Grass in ditch really laid over now. Fun riding. Canopied roads make shade tunnels. Pretty scenery.

Mile 40. Back onto the same roads that made up first 15 miles. Oh snap I have to cross that big behemoth of a bridge again. Pedal pedal pedal. Sip sip. Remind myself I can still run well after a hard ride. That day on the fresh chip seal going to Sparkman was more taxing than this. Still mad about that. See woman walking bike up hill. Feeling a shade warm. Unzip jersey a bit. Swift tailwind heading onto bridge. Small chainring required going up bridge. Fly down the backside where Daniel waits to get the bridge-in-the-background pics. Bet those will be cool. Scanning the road ahead for leading female. Nada.

Start Garmin to let it find satellites before run. Ride that tailwind for all it’s worth. Finish milkshake. Chase with water. Lower GI reports portapotty stop will be mandatory in T2. Message received. Garmin goes into sleep mode. Reawaken it. Pass some Rajin’ Roux’ers on the road back into town. Welcome to New Roads! New road needed. Bumpy as hell. Consider my odds of catching the leader. Feel good about those odds. Garmin warns of impending sleep mode again. Volunteers waving and pointing at dismount line. Off the carbon steed and on my feet. Feet don’t fail me now!

Bike time: 2:57:08 (18.9 mph) (2nd fastest female/12)

T2

Helmet and beanie off. Ciele running hat on. Sunglasses on brim. Long-sleeve jersey off. Daniel was convinced I was hot in that jersey. Extra loud cheers from him to ‘get that thing off!’ Sock change, reposition timing chip, Nike 4%ers on the feet. Throw on race number belt – T1 Pro magnetic!

Into portapotty. The pitfalls of a 1-piece tri suit. Race belt falls to ankles. Nothing sanitary going on here. Triathletes are nasty. Wrestle back into top of suit. Reposition number belt. Out the door, sunglasses on. Daniel reports 2 minutes down on leader. Work cut out for me.

T2 time: 4:03 (5^th fastest female/12)

Run

The part I’ve been looking forward to. Immediately eat a GU. Roctane strawberry kiwi. Nowhere to toss wrapper. Guess I will carry it to next aid station. Sticky. Encouragement from other runners. Compliments on pace. Looking ahead for leading lady. Not seeing her. Veer onto sidewalk as shoulder on Main St. runs out. Grab water from aid station and drop Gu wrapper. Wipe sticky hands on cold, wet belly. Narrow sidewalk. Working those tangents. Shrubbery brushes my shoulder. Avoid the cracked and broken spots. Dodge magnolia cones. Would be bad to turn ankle on one of those! Race number crinkles and swishes against thighs. Constant adjustment. 1 mile in.

Turn into neighborhood. Still not seeing leader. U-turn at end of street briefly kills my momentum. Garmin beeps out the miles, but I don’t look at splits. Running by feel. Avoid the speed bumps. Pass the slow runners. Nod at the leaders. See Daniel at the left turn. Is that guy over there puking? OMG don’t look! Run faster. Get away! Course goes through more neighborhood. See a bounding cat. Turn by railroad tracks. Desolate section. All alone. Feels like a training run. Pass the finish area. Lap 1 complete.

Orange tape on sidewalk denotes mile markers. Ah…lightbulb moment E and S on sidewalk are really a 3 and 5. Decide to check split at 5 miles. 6:51. 6:51?!! Holy cow! Does NOT feel like I am running that fast. Secret goal was to average under 8:00 for the whole run leg. Check. 4%s super bouncy. Feeling fine. No thoughts of stopping. Yippy yappy dog runs out from house. Owners yell for it. Like that ever does any good.

40 minutes in and time for another gel. Hammer espresso 100 mg caffeine. Drop wrapper in blue kiddie pool at U-turn and grab water on the fly. There’s no way I haven’t caught the leader. Must have passed her without noticing. Daniel reports 3:00 lead. Did he say 3:00? That doesn’t seem like much. I’m hauling. Maybe he said 20 minutes? Brain malfunctioning. Keep the pressure on. Keep the cadence high. Lap 2 – check!

Daniel reports lead has increased to 6:00. 6:00?! I verify. Not comfortable with that. Start checking splits every mile to ensure unconscious slowdown not taking place. All splits low 7’s. Caffeine flush. Cool off into the headwind. One last gel at 1:10. Roctane cherry lime. Tastes like cola. Weird. Drop empty in pool. Last U-turn. Gulp of water. Dodge neighborhood cars. 2 miles to go. Wow, I’m close! Can definitely hold this pace 2 more miles. 1 mile to go. Drop.the.hammer. 0.70 to go. Watch says I might PR this half. No way! Don’t even think about that. Just get to the finish.

Surreal moments. Last left turn. Last right turn to finish straight. Hear announcers say “Here comes our first female!” Finishing tape stretched across road. A flash of pink takes it down. My moment of glory stolen. Everyone thinks I’m a very close second. Confusion and disappointment. Where did she come from?! Daniel just as confused. Finisher’s medal placed around neck. Volunteers fawn over tri kit. Can’t blame them. Thinking my one chance for a win lost by seconds. Can’t comprehend. But wait. Here comes race director. Lady in pink shorted bike course. I really did win. I WON!! Offer to recreate run through tape accepted without hesitation.

Run time: 1:31:30 (7:01/mile) (fastest female – only 2 men were faster: 1:30:16 and 1:30:53)

FINISH TIME: 5:13:53 – first place overall female (7 of all 67 finishers male and female)

This is a new half-iron PR for me by 40:08!  Forty minutes and eight seconds. Whoa.

My half-marathon time is also a new PR for me by 1:34! COMPLETELY unexpected. Garmin recorded dead on 13.10 miles. (I didn’t stop my watch until a bit after crossing the finish line so it reads 12 seconds longer.)

A Russian nesting doll of PR’s!

This guy is the bestest photographer, Sherpa, fiancé, supporter, and all-around awesomest human being ever.

Transition looks like a tornado hit!

Winner’s swag included a jambalaya paddle, stone wine chiller, and a bottle of champagne.

This race also served as the USAT Long Course Regional Championship so I got an extra medal alongside my RR finisher’s medal.

Post-Race Thoughts

I’m not sure whether I’m more excited about the win, the overall PR, or the half marathon PR. Combined, it was a day that represented what I feel to be one of my top 3 greatest athletic achievements (alongside my iron-distance PR at Beach 2 Battleship and my marathon PR at Prairie Fire). Three days later, and I am still in disbelief. And still sore. My last two attempts at the half-iron distance both went horribly south on the run (my strongest leg!) so it feels incredibly satisfying to finally execute the 70.3 I knew I was capable of all along. It wasn’t my fastest swim, bike, T1, or T2, but all of those were fast enough that when combined with my best run yielded an overall time faster than I had ever dared to dream I might record.

The River Roux was an extremely well-done race. Sadly, this was the last year the race will be held due to declining participation. Another victim of Big Iron. 😦

After Goose Pond back in May, I truly felt like I was done with triathlon for a while. Add to Cart…and the rest is history.

What will you add to your cart today?

Full results: https://my5.raceresult.com/141628/?lang=en

 

DIY SwimRun

If you haven’t read my previous post on SwimRun, do that first. It sets the stage for this one.

• Date: October 5, 2019
• Location: Lake DeGray Arkansas
• Weather: starting in the mid-60’s and warming into the upper 80’s; full sun; mild-moderate wind

Daniel and I got out to the lake around 8:30 am. He backed the boat into the water, and when he tried to start the motor, it showed no signs of life.

I had a flashback to my (15th?) birthday. All I wanted was for my parents to take me to the lake so I could spend the day water skiing, something I got to do maybe once a year at best. My dad hitched up the boat, gathered up skis, life jackets, and a ski rope. Mom prepared a cooler with drinks and snacks. We all got dressed for lake time, sunscreened up, and packed beach towels before hitting the road. At the boat ramp, we transferred items into boat, and then dad backed it into the lake. He fiddled around with the motor for quite some time, but it ultimately would not start. There was nothing to do but pack up and go back home.

I started mentally preparing myself for the possibility that SwimRun might not happen on this day, which was very hard because I was sitting on GO and had been looking forward to this for weeks.

Daniel had planned ahead and brought some tools, and after adjusting the battery connections a few times, the old Evinrude finally sputtered to life. Hallelujah! We motored around the point, and he dropped me off at the start.

Headed to the start

I selected a line of dirt washed across the road as my starting line, started my watch, and took off running.

Full SwimRun route

Run Leg #1: far west end of DeGray State Park point to yurt camp (1.4 miles)

There was a Rod Run going on that morning so the point was overtaken by old hot rods, many of them backed into parking spaces with their hoods propped up. The owners sat proudly by in lawn chairs waiting to tell anyone who may venture too near all about their prize automobiles.

As I ran past the road barricade, one of the guys manning the entry point yelled, “Slow down! There’s no one chasing you.”

When I looked to my right, I could see Daniel speeding past across the water to meet me at the first swim entry point. I was running strong and, despite being very familiar with this area, somehow missed my first turn. That’s OK because I could just take the next one, though it would add a little bit of distance.

I ran through the yurt encampment and down the bank to the water where Daniel was waiting.

“Do I get in here or down there?” I asked, not remembering exactly where we had decided. He pointed down the shore a little and said, “right down there” so I kept running a bit farther before plowing off into the water.

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Swim Leg #1: DeGray State Park point to lodge levee (0.44 mile)

When I went to move the pull buoy between my legs, I realized I had put it on upside down so I had to fix that before getting on my swim cap, goggles, and hand paddles. Before I knew it, I was face down in the water swimming. Oh.my.great.googely.moogely. the water temperature was SO perfect! There was no hint of coldness, even when first entering, but it had also lost that bathwater hotness it gets late in the summer. I would hazard to guess it was in the low 80’s.

Daniel trolled along behind me across the slightly rippled water surface. Since I am used to swimming much longer distances, I thought this less-than-a-half-mile crossing would go by really quickly, but it didn’t seem that way. Every time I sighted, it seemed I was heading too much towards the right so I had to adjust my course.  There was a large branch in the edge of the water where we had determined I would get out so once I got close enough to the rock levee, I looked for that branch and swam towards it.

Run Leg #2: Across the state park lodge island (0.73 mile)

Since this run was so short, I had already decided I would leave my swim cap on, goggles on forehead, and carry hand paddles instead of putting them on my belt. I ran up the bank and onto the road where I met a couple of vehicles. I’m sure I must have looked very strange to them running with a swim cap and googles, a big buoy sticking out from the side of my thigh, and carrying bright orange things. I imagine one day they will hear about SwimRun and think “Ah! That’s what the girl was doing out at the lake that day!”

But for now…Arkansas doesn’t know about SwimRun…so I just looked like a weirdo.

I ran past the front doors to the lodge, turned onto a paved walking path for a short time, and then veered off onto a leaf-covered trail down to the water.

Many of these photos were taken during our scouting trip a month or so ago.

Swim Leg #2: state park lodge island to state park marina boat ramp (0.39 mile)

My transition was quicker this time since I hadn’t taken everything off for the run so I was in the water and swimming just after Daniel came around the corner in the boat. I guess this stretch of water was more exposed to the wind than the last one because there was lots of chop. I felt like I was being tossed around inside a washing machine. It always amazes me how much more lively the water feels when you’re in it swimming than when just looking at the surface – meaning what looks like just mild ripples feels like way more than that.

Even thinking I might have to swim in this rough water for the rest of my loop, I didn’t fret for some reason. Maybe having the pull buoy to float my legs made me feel less vulnerable to choking on a wave?

There were big white signs at the marina for me to sight off of so I swam towards those. This crossing was a little shorter than the last one but did not feel like it. I was swimming pretty aggressively, pushing my hand paddles hard against the water until I got close enough to shore that they were scraping the bottom.

The lake was so low that the concrete of the boat ramp ended right at the edge of the water. It made sense why this particular boat ramp was closed. I stood up in the water as Daniel pulled the boat near behind me, and I asked for my water bottle filled with strawberry vanilla Perpetuem. I was over an hour in at this point and drank about half of the bottle before wrestling my hand paddles onto their belt and heading up the steep boat ramp.

Run Leg #3: state park marina boat ramp to DeRoche Ridge boat ramp (2.61 miles)

As I ran up the boat ramp, I said aloud “Big hill! Big hill!” There was a couple heading towards the marina who heard me and kind of looked at me strangely. It was a mild morning but still warm enough that I found myself trying to stay in the shade as I rounded the curve (below left) and headed up another big hill (below right) to the main road.

Running out of the state park, I met a lot of traffic that was likely headed for the Rod Run. As I ran past the golf course, I thought about my blue Fuel Belt water bottle that, best I can surmise, a Canadian goose carried away during one of my long runs here last spring. Looking at my watch as I ran across the little dike, I saw that I was at an hour and 20-something minutes and already on the third leg. I had very roughly estimated that I could finish this whole thing in about 5 hours and thought whatever my time was, it might be fun to do this again in a year or so and see if I could beat it. Though I would never know my time for each run leg, I was definitely keeping a brisk pace.

Boy did I miss my sunglasses and hat! There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun was all up in my eyes. It’s a little-talked-about fact that for each SwimRun you do, there is some permanent retinal damage. I wanted to play by the rules, which meant anything I ran with I had to swim with so had decided against sunglasses and a hat. If there’s a next time, I will at least stuff a foldable hat in my tri suit. The sun in my eyes was just miserable.

If coming out of the lake means running uphill, then heading into the lake means running downhill so I got to enjoy a nice slope down to the water after I turned into the DeRoche Ridge area.

Daniel was waiting at the boat ramp, where I tanked up on Gatorade and strapped my SwimSafe buoy around my waist for greater visibility on the upcoming swim, which would be the longest of the day. Daniel reported that the trolling motor goes about 1% faster than my swimming speed.

Swim Leg #3: DeRoche Ridge boat ramp to highway 7 swim beach (1.26 miles)

As I swam away from the boat ramp, I was pleased to notice that the wind had died down and the water was now calm. My arms were hurting as I started out, but the pain subsided some as I warmed up. This swim kind of felt like two swims in one. The first part was from the boat ramp over to the rocks on the highway 7 big dike, and the second part was along the rocks to the highway 7 swim beach.

Photo taken from DeRoche Ridge boat ramp, looking towards the dam on highway 7

I focused on getting over to the rocks because that’s my favorite place in this whole lake to swim. Why? Because swimming along the rocks almost eliminates the need to sight.

From the corner of my eye, I saw various pieces of flotsam and jetsam washed up on the rip-rapped shoreline. Is that a big silver ball? Or a motorcycle helmet? Or a Mylar balloon?

Daniel followed along closely behind me as I made my way down the seemingly endless rock row. As I got close to the swim beach, he zipped on ashore to wait for me. When I came out of the water, I saw we weren’t alone as there was a man enjoying the swimming area. I can’t blame him; as I said, the water was PERFECT. I hadn’t been there long when he got out and left though.

Daniel held out my Perpetuem bottle, and I said “How did you know that’s just what I wanted?” He just smiled smugly and replied, “I know you.” And he does!

Run Leg #4: highway 7 swim beach to Skyline Dr. spillway boat ramp (2.46 miles)

I had pondered out loud how I was going to run across the swim beach without getting sand all in my shoes. Thankfully, it was packed down pretty well from the heavy rain the day before so I made it up to the road without much issue. I ran past the stop-here-to-pay-your-$1-to-use-the-beach toll booth and noticed it was straight boarded up (for the end of the season I guess?).

From there, it was up a long steep hill to the highway, and the hill continued for a good ways after the right turn onto 7. Running this was a first for me and was also the first time that day I really felt any significant fatigue on the run, but I knew a nice long downhill was coming so that helped my mental game. I found myself shade seeking again on Forestry Circle.

Since I had previously run much of this entire route (not just the current leg) over the last 11 years (parts of it many times), I caught myself thinking back to tough workouts in various places as I ran those sections. I’ve had a bunch.

Daniel was pulled up on the left side of the spillway area boat ramp when I arrived.  He was looking down at his phone and not expecting me quite yet. The area was busy with boat traffic – putting in and already on the water.  I killed the bottle of Perpetuem and drank some more Gatorade while we chatted about the pile of junk that had appeared next to the boat ramp.

Swim Leg #4: Skyline Dr. spillway boat ramp to Iron Mountain Marina (1.0 mile)

I swim from this boat ramp fairly often but always hug the shoreline to the left so it was a real treat to get to set off across the middle of the open water. This swim was not much shorter than the last one, and the pain in my arms and shoulders never really warmed out. It was definitely uncomfortable and inhibited me from pushing against the water as hard as I had been earlier.

I swam just past the edge of an island and then zeroed in on the marina ahead. When I got close to it, I sighted a lot to make sure there were no boats backing out of slips. There was a line of orange buoys where I planned to exit the water to I swam towards those.

As I closed in on the shore, Daniel peeled off so he could get around the corner to my next entry point on time. When we scouted this area, I had noticed “no swimming” signs so when I saw a man standing on the bank and another on the dock watching me get out, I thought I was about to get in trouble.

Run Leg #5: Iron Mountain Marina to “Lovers’ Lane” cove (1.19 miles)

The guy on the bank asked, “How’s the water?” It turns out he was a triathlete looking for places to open water swim.  I told him I was doing a SwimRun, and he said “oh, you’re in a race right now?” Once I very briefly explained what I was doing and started to run off, he noticed I had been swimming in my shoes. “What kind of shoes are those?” he asked as I was leaving, and I yelled “Zoot!” back over my shoulder.

I like to think he looked up SwimRun after that encounter, and maybe that’s how SwimRun spreads in Arkansas?

I ran out of the parking lot and past a sign that read: “Hurry Back! Your memories are waiting” before hitting a section of the Iron Mountain trail system called the Pink Cadillac. I had run this years ago when training for an adventure race, but it was not what I remembered! It was longer than expected, hilly, rocky, and washed out.

It was with great relief that I reached the end of the Pink Caddy and got back on the paved surface of Corps Rd. Along there, I met a gaggle of women walking towards me. At first I thought I knew some of them but then decided I didn’t after all. This section was a little tricky because I had to remember the exact spot to cut off the road and get onto the trail again. Up the hill, down the hill, look for the culvert and log on the side of the road….right there! I made the detour off road and, after a very short distance on the blue trail, veered off down the embankment to the water. As I entered the water, my shoes sunk in the mud, and Daniel was just coming up in the boat. We had timed it just right.

Going down the embankment had caused a massive wrinkle in my insole, so I sat down on a rock to take my shoe off and fix it. Daniel updated me on the boat status. He had run down the spare battery using the trolling motor and would now have to rely only on the main motor which would make it harder to keep an appropriate pace with me as I swam.

I finished off my bottle of Gatorade, drank some cold water while eating a limited edition(!) moonberry Twinkie, and strapped on my SwimSafe buoy again. If I recall correctly, the time was about 3 hours in at this point.

Swim Leg #5: Length of “Lovers’ Lane” cove (0.59 mile)

For this leg, I had to swim out of the cove and towards the main lake. I couldn’t see the cove outlet or my destination for a little while so I just swam. My arms were really hurting by this point with no easing up of the pain.

“Lover’s Lane” cove – looking out towards main lake

I passed a boat drifting in the water and could see some people sitting on the deck watching me. Daniel had stopped his boat, and when I caught a glimpse of him as I came up for air, I thought I saw him pulling a long string? I kind of worried a bit until I finally saw the boat in motion again.

At only 0.59 miles, this swim should have felt like nothing to me, but I was nearing 4 miles total for the day so I felt it down to my mitochondria.

When I emerged from the water, Daniel was pulled up on the shore and had the cover off the boat motor. The automatic starter had quit working so he was having to manually start it with the pull rope. That was the “string” I had seen earlier. We talked over a plan for in case the boat didn’t make it to my last swim entry, but since Daniel has a back-up plan for his back-up plans, I figured that was unlikely.

I drank some more water and ate an iced oatmeal cookie Clif Z bar. The sun was high in the sky, and I felt I should reapply sunscreen but, in act of laziness and stupidity, didn’t.

Run Leg #6: Iron Mountain bike trail to Skyline Dr. to end of Bethune Rd. (4.96 miles)

The final run of the day was the longest at almost 5 miles and started with a climb up from the water’s edge to the Iron Mountain gray trail.

The first 1.5-ish miles were run on this trail, and I quickly decided that I do not miss trail running.

The hardest part came after the trail section though when I had to run Corps Rd. all the way up the side of Iron Mountain to get to Skyline Dr. A mountain biker was standing at the intersection and watched me run past.

Skyline is a smooth, paved road and felt like Easy St. compared to what I had just come off of. It had warmed up considerably so I was very glad to be able to run in the shade along this section as well. My attitude of gratitude didn’t last long though because I was getting tired, and the Skyline portion seemed to go on forever and was slightly uphill for most of the way.

Finally, I got to my last turn: right on Bethune Rd. Now, this road goes through a hunting lease and is gated off, but there was no other way back down to the water so I had decided to just run on through and hope no one was around or at least that no one stopped me or shot at me. On this day, the gate was actually open, which worked in my favor, but my hopes of not seeing anyone didn’t last long. I was not far in past the gate when I noticed a man off the side of the road hooking up a trailer. He was looking down, and I don’t know for sure that he saw me, but as much noise as I was making running over the gravel it seems impossible I got by unnoticed.

I kept expecting someone on a 4-wheeler to come after me, but no one did. I thought if he saw me, he either didn’t care or assumed I would have to come back by since it was a dead end road. He is probably still scratching his head wondering where I went! The beauty of SwimRun 🙂

Farther down the road, I encountered a big black snake, which caused me to shriek and jump out of the way. This road was mostly downhill, but just before reaching the water there was one last big hill to go up and over. I didn’t remember that from the recon trip, and my legs didn’t care for it AT ALL.

I didn’t see Daniel at first when I splashed into water, but then I saw the top of his straw hat off to the left and sighed with relief. A quick check of my watch revealed I was closing in on 5 hours. I was a little disappointed as I had secretly hoped to come in under 5 hours, but oh well.  It’s not like there was a prize on the line or even any other competitors.

Swim Leg #6: Cove at end of Bethune Rd. back to far west end of DeGray State Park point. (1.18 miles)

My mouth was very dry, and I was so thirsty, but I had to swim out of the stump-riddled part of this cove before Daniel could come to me with the boat.  When I dove into the water, my chest burned from where the zipper of my tri suit had chafed me during the run(s). I took off slowly and sighted frequently to avoid impaling myself on a submerged stump or swimming headfirst into one. 

Yes, I swam through that, and no it wasn’t as bad as it looks.

Once I cleared the snags, I could see Daniel on the left bank waving my bright orange swim buoy, but I was headed for the right bank – which was on my way to the finish. I hoped the boat was not broken down and figured he would come to me if it wasn’t. Sure enough, he met me just as I found a good place to swim up on the shore. I got a much-needed drink of water and strapped on ‘ol SwimSafe for the high exposure, high traffic lake crossing I was about to make.

“Time to close the loop!” I said.

“YOU can close the loop…the boat might not be able to…” was Daniel’s reply.

I felt like I had already swam a while just getting out of the cove, but that last crossing seemed interminable. With each stroke, pain radiated through my shoulders and down my arms. It felt like my muscle fibers were being ripped apart. I wasn’t really tired, but the pain was a real limiting factor.

A party barge with a black canopy was pulled up at the swim beach on the point so I used that to sight. Daniel made big zig zagging motions back and forth to keep the boat going without getting too far away from me. He had definitely been challenged by the SwimRun, albeit in different ways than I was. However, he met each challenge skillfully and kept me safe and supported all day.

After what seemed like forever, the swim beach finally started to get closer. Eventually, the party barge pulled away, and I pushed through the pain to finish off those closing strokes.

Once out of the water, I had one final little run back up to the road where I had started over 5 hours ago to officially close the loop/complete the circle.

You can see my dirt “starting line” on the right side of the loop behind me.

Total Distance: 13.37 miles running, 4.86 miles swimming = 18.24 miles

Total Time: 5:26:42

Retrospectus

This was a fun challenge. While I run and swim all the time and even do run-swim-runs a lot, this was just different.  I think a few of the swims were a little on the long side, and I liked the parts of the course where I transitioned more frequently. Time went by quickly in the beginning and more slowly later on, most likely due to fatigue and the increasing distance of the segments. A week later, my left shoulder is still hurting me. I have no idea if I could be competitive in a real SwimRun event, but I would like to give it a go at some point. Odyssey SwimRun is coming to Austin, TX next November so maybe that would be a good option for me. Right now, I am focused on trying, once again, to master the 70.3 triathlon at the River Roux on November 2nd.

SwimRun: The Next Triathlon?

The sport of SwimRun originated in Sweden in 2002. The Swedish SwimRun series was named Otillo (which means island to island) as athletes would literally swim from one island to the next, running the distance on land across each island to the next swim entry point. Unlike triathlon, which is one swim leg, one bike leg, and one run leg, SwimRun consists of multiple alternating swimming and running legs of varying distances. Despite the name SwimRun, running is actually the first leg (and usually the last as well). I suppose RunSwimRunSwimRunSwimRunSwimRun would have been a bit cumbersome.

SwimRun’s popularity is slowly increasing in the U.S.(while the popularity of triathlons has taken a nosedive in recent years). There are several independent races such as SwimRun NC and two series put on by the companies Odyssey and Ignite. Both Odyssey and Ignite offer short and long course options. The short courses usually range from 8-11 miles total, and the long courses are in the range of 16-21 miles. (The Otillo SwimRun world championship in Sweden is over 46 miles, but Otillo also has super short “experience” options of <5 miles.)

The swims are done in open water, and the runs are often on trails, though some races have more pavement running. Distances for each leg vary based on the natural terrain at the race location. Here are a few examples:

…and a couple examples of course maps:

During a SwimRun, athletes can use some different gear that is not allowed in a triathlon, but any gear used on the swim must be carried during the run and vice versa. This means athletes swim in their shoes and may run in a wetsuit (if the water is cold enough to require one). Special wetsuits made just for SwimRun have hit the market. These zip in the front to make it easier to pull the top down for the running legs.  They have additional storage and a tether loop as well. To rest the legs for the run and help overcome the drag of shoes, a pull buoy is used to float the legs during the swim, and hand paddles help add more upper body propulsion to compensate for lack of kicking. Of course this means pull buoys and hand paddles must be carried between the swim legs.

Another key feature of SwimRun is that the events are designed to be completed by pairs of racers who must be tethered to each other for the swim and must stay within a short distance of each other during the run (or risk disqualification).

Tethered swimmers exiting the water

I’ve been interested in doing a SwimRun since I first heard about it a few years ago, and I really started looking into race locations and distances this summer. Needing a partner who had similar running AND swimming abilities was a huge barrier to me, but I was pleased to learn that some races allow solo entrants. The closest race to me is in Knoxville, TN (Ignite); however, Ignite only allows solo racers in their short course option. I’m not willing to travel very far for a short race. Odyssey allows solo racers in their long course events, but all of their races are far up north (MI, MA, WA, ME).

Prices vary but are not inexpensive. Ignite solo short course is $125-$175, and Odyssey solo long course is $250-$450, depending on how early you register. Then add in travel expenses. A SwimRun wetsuit, if needed, runs $200-$250. Hand paddles are about $18, and a pull buoy ranges from $7-$15. Currently, there is only one SwimRun pull buoy on the market in the US (Orca – $35) so most athletes modify a regular one with bungee straps to hold it to the leg when running.

I wanted to experience SwimRun, not necessarily race a SwimRun. I also don’t really want to travel or spend a lot of money on it yet. Thus, I decided to create my own!

Apparently, I wasn’t alone in my decision to make my own event. Shortly after I started planning my DIY SwimRun, I read a story in Runner’s World magazine about a guy (named Matt) who gathered a few friends to do their own 50K around New York City.

Beyond the rising entry fees, there are plenty of other reasons some of us are skipping highly produced, organized events.  “I didn’t want the hassle,” Matt explained, “the driving, the ridiculously early wake-up.”

I started by mapping out a potential route around nearby Lake DeGray. Then Daniel and I went on site and scouted out all of the entry and exit points and did some recon on the trail running sections.

Proposed DIY SwimRun: 6 legs of running and 6 legs of swimming totaling 18.24 miles (4.86 miles swimming and 13.37 miles running)

Daniel made plans to borrow a boat to accompany me on the swim legs. I ordered some hand paddles, and Daniel modified a pull buoy for me. I did run into a hiccup in my shoe selection.

I thought it would be great not to have to deal with soggy socks so I bought some Zoot Kalani triathlon-specific shoes. These shoes are designed to be worn without socks – or so they say. I found out the hard way not to ever trust that claim! A 6-mile sockless run left my right heel bloody and missing a couple layers of skin.

Blood. That’s blood.

Right heel; it took a couple weeks to heal.

So…socks it is!

I did a practice training session a couple weeks ago that consisted of a 2-mile run, 30-minute swim, 2-mile run, 30-minute swim, 2-mile run, 30-minute swim, and a final 2-mile run. There are definitely some nuances to this sport that I underestimated.

First, I’ve never seen SwimRunners wear sunglasses or a hat because they would have to carry these through the swims. However, these are two items that I almost always wear when running. On the initial 2-mile run segment, my sunscreen quickly ran into my eyes (and burned!) with no hat band to stop it. That’s OK because I was running straight into the setting sun… I pretty much ran with my eyes closed for a good part of the last mile.

I knew I would get too hot running in a swim cap so I had stuffed that into the front of my tri suit, and that worked well. Starting out, I stored my goggles on my forehead, but they soon got sweaty and started sliding around so I just pulled them down to my neck. They bounced around some there but were not too bothersome. I could stuff them into my tri suit too if needed.

The bungee cords on my pull buoy were not adjusted tight enough so it kept sliding down my leg as I ran, and the it was hard to hold the hand paddles as my hands got sweaty. I kept switching hands with them and trying different positions, but I really hate running with anything in my hands.

The first swim went pretty smoothly. Swimming with the shoes was not an issue, and I have used a pull buoy and hand paddles before.  The hand paddles do put a lot more strain on my shoulders. Trying to manage the buttons on my watch with the paddles on my hands was difficult, and when I went to remove my goggles with the paddles on my hands, I somehow popped myself in the lip and tasted blood. When I do my actual SwimRun, I plan to track only the cumulative time (not the time for each leg or transitions), and that will only require pushing a start button at the beginning and stop button when I finish.

For the second run, I tried wearing the paddles on the back of my hands with one finger through the middle finger loops. This was definitely easier but still not comfortable so I decided I will take the time to put them on a belt in the future. (I later adjusted my pull buoy cords so it would stay in place as well.) Running in soaking wet shoes and socks was nothing new. With the heat and humidity in the summer around here, my shoes start sloshing about 4 miles into a regular run anyways. With socks, I didn’t have any blister issues.

By the time I finished the last swim, it was nearing dark. I did have to run the last 2 miles in the dark with only the fireflies to light my way. I had started the workout just after 5 pm in the blazing hot August sun and was shocked how hot it still was even in the total dark well past 8 pm. Ah, training is always the biggest part of the adventure.

I don’t plan to do any more specific SwimRun training like this. I feel like I have the gear sorted out, and I plan to pause long enough between legs to eat and drink as needed. I will continue to run, bike, swim, and do run-swim-runs as usual, but I’m confident I can SwimRun the circuit I have mapped out.  Now to wait on some cooler weather so it will be more enjoyable…

No entry fee. No travel. No teammate to worry about. Just SwimRun.

The Angry Sun

If I cannot make it through a run (whether standalone or post-bike brick run) without having to stop and walk or rest, I consider that workout a failure. I feel compelled to repeat my failed workouts 1) to restore my confidence and 2) to overwrite the memory of the failure with a memory of success and redemption. When I was a kid, I would sometimes record things on cassette tapes. If I made a mistake the first time, I could record over the original until I got it right. Same principle.

Normally, I have anywhere from 0-2 failed workouts per year, and they are almost always related to the heat in some way. Last summer, I started failing early and often. I was struggling with the grief of losing my bunny Doppler. The emotional pain was so intense that I found my capacity for physical suffering to be diminished. Plus, it was hot, and I was doing long, hard ironman training sessions. The repeated failures messed with my head, and I reached a point where I expected to fail. When that’s the case, you’ve lost before you even start.  In time, I managed to pull myself out of the downward spiral. In a way, it’s a summer I’d like to forget, but it’s also one I need to remember – especially when I go thinking I want to do another ironman.

A full list of all of last summer’s failed workouts and redemption dates:

• 5/19: 60.2-mile bike + 6-mile run; 2 stops during run @4.35 and 4.65 miles [Doppler]
  • Repeated 5/25
• 6/9: 52.2-mile bike + 7-mile run; 2 stops during run @4.7 and 5.6 miles [Radar-late start]
  • Repeated 6/20
• 6/13: 13-mile run @ Lake DeGray; 2 stops @ 57 minutes and 10.5 miles [humidity]
  • Repeated 6/19
• 6/26: 17-mile run @ Huie/DeLong; 3 stops @ car (~9 mi), 2 hours (~13.1 mi), and 15.1 mi <–mental
  • Repeated 7/3 (18 miles)
• 6/29: 60-minute open water swim @ Lake DeGray + 43-mile bike ride + 8-mile run; 6 stops during run, starting @ 2 miles [heat]
  • Repeated 7/7 = FAIL; walked 2X during run @ 5.3 and 6.85 miles
  • Repeated  8/10
• 6/27: 52.6-mile bike (planned 55 miles) [late start, water crisis, heat]
  • Repeated 7/4 (61.7 miles)
• 6/30: 8-mile run; 2 stops @ 5.8 mi (walked up big hill) and 6.98 mi <– mental
  • Repeated 7/11
• 7/14: 20-mile run; walked 3X – stop @ car (11.5), 16, 17.92 miles [heat/humidity]
  • Repeated 7/24
• 7/16: 76.8-mile bike + 5-mile run; 1 stop during run @ 3.5 miles [flat tire drama, bike switch, extra humid, no water on run]
  • Repeated 7/29 (81.5 + 5)
•  7/17: 8-mile run (Watt St.); 3 stops @ 3.6, 5.2 (Elaine’s house), and 6.8 miles [extra humid, fatigue]
  • Repeated 7/26
• 7/20: 90-minute open water swim (Redwater) + 7.3-mile run; 2 stops during run @ 5.2 and 6.3 miles
  • Repeated 7/31

When I redo a failed workout, I always do the same route and often even wear the same clothes. Occasionally, I will slightly increase the distance just to really nail home the victory. I tweak things that may increase my chances of success the second time around, but it’s largely a mental game. I have never failed on a second attempt…until last summer.

This blog is about the swim-bike-run that took me three times to get right.

Friday 6/29/2018: Attempt #1

The night before, I gathered my mountain of gear and loaded up the car:

• swim cap
• goggles
• ear plugs
• watch to time swim
• bottle of water with GU electrolyte tablet and snack for after swim
• sunscreen
• beach towel
• bike
• bike shoes and socks
• helmet
• sunglasses
• bike gloves
• 2 water bottles for bike (1 frozen, 1 insulated with ice and water)
• insulated bottle full of ice
• ice chest
• insulated soft-side cooler
• snacks for bike ride
• hat
• running shoes
• GPS watch for run
• fuel belt with four 8-oz. bottles of water (2 frozen)
• gel
• bottle of water for afterwards
• chocolate milk for afterwards
• flip flops

I arrived at the Lake DeGray spillway dam parking lot just as it was getting daylight. My friend Elaine met me there. She would do the swim with me and then head to work, and then I was on my own for the bike and run. We swam for time, hugging the shoreline away from the boat ramp for 30 minutes and then turning around and coming back. The approximate distance measured on Google Earth was 3,000 yards (1.7 miles). My form felt sloppy/bad.

This map shows the swim route. The start and finish are actually both at the green arrow since we did an out and back. The red square is the approximate turnaround point.

After the swim, I downed a 16 oz. bottle of water with a lemon lime GU electrolyte tablet and ate a granola bar before applying more sunscreen and getting my bike out of the trunk. My car was parked in the middle of the parking lot, and I had planned to move it before I started the bike but decided not to mess with it (a decision I would regret several hours later). I rode over to the corner of the parking lot to hit up the bathroom before taking off on my 43-mile bike ride. The bathroom is up on a big hill at the top of two flights of concrete stairs that are difficult to climb in bike shoes, and there is nowhere good to lean a bike while you’re off of it. Inside, it’s dark and creepy so I made haste.

The bike ride was only supposed to be 40 miles, but I decided I needed to add 2.4 miles to make up for the shortage two days before (6/27) when I planned to ride 55 but could only make it 52.6. Like the swim, the bike would also be an out-and-back affair. I would go west on Skyline drive for 8 miles, turn left to head south on Brushy Rd for another 3 miles, turn right to go west for ~2.5 miles on highway 8, and make a left onto highway 51 to head further south for another ~7.5 miles. This would take me 20 miles away from my starting point, but to add the extra mileage I would go straight through the 4-way intersection in Hollywood for another 1.2 miles before turning around and stopping for water at the church near the intersection.

It was sunny, hot, and windy, and with 1,977 feet of elevation gain, this is not a flat, easy route. In fact, it starts out with a steep hill right out of the spillway parking lot and then goes up another even steeper one just after crossing the dam. That’s only the warm up. There are at least 5 substantial hills going each way.

This hill on Brushy Rd is down on the way out…but up on the way back. It is so steep that as you approach, it looks like the road just drops off the side of the earth!

Despite the hills, I felt decent when I got to the church in Hollywood.

This photo was taken recently (not last summer), but it shows the Hollywood church water stop. The faucet is on the side of the church under the grown up sweetgum “tree” (bush). I was also riding my Pinarello and not the Trek shown in this picture.

I crouched behind the bell and pulled aside the leg of my tri suit for a quick pee before refilling my water bottles and heading back towards the lake. Going north on Brushy Rd, one encounters one of my top 5 most feared hills of anywhere I ride. Brushy Rd is predominantly uphill from highway 8, gradually at first, and then there is a section requiring use of the small chainring. At the end of that, when you’re really starting to feel the burn in your legs: BAM!

This nasty beast (below) winds up the side of the mountain to where a fire tower used to be. It’s so steep that even in my easiest gear, I had to switchback it to keep from falling over. Ouch.

You can’t fly down this hill with reckless abandon either. It is so steep and has such a sharp curve in it, that I always have to ride my brakes.

A rough patch of cold mix on the steepest part of the climb does NOT help matters.

After ascending back to Skyline (including more switchbacking up the drops-off-the-side-of-the-earth hill), I had gone from feeling decent to meh – but still better than I had on the awful ride 2 days ago. Thankfully, I got to reap some of what I had paid forward earlier in that Skyline is mostly downhill on the way back in, which allowed me to recover a little. I stopped at the visitor center at the top of the dam for more water so I could tank up before starting the run. The guy working the desk shook his head and said something like “I don’t know how you ride in this heat.” I knew riding wasn’t the challenge though; running (especially after riding) was going to be the real challenge.

Average speed for bike ride: 17.5 mph 

Back at my car, I stowed my bike safely in the trunk and switched to my running shoes: Altra Impulse. I hated those shoes and usually only wore them for shorter runs – less than the 8 miles I had planned today. I don’t remember why I chose to wear them. When I went to dump the insulated water bottle full of ice down my sports bra, I realized a lot of it had melted from being in the hot car. I put a few cubes under my hat as well and strapped on my fuel belt loaded with four 8-oz. bottles of water. When I took off running out of the parking lot under the blazing late morning sun (high of 97F that day), I knew it was going to be a hard hard run.

The run route was not straightforward to say the least, and I had never run any of it before. I left the parking lot and headed across the road for an out-and-back in the actual spillway.  The road that runs along the inner edge of it is not well maintained. It’s rocky and full of potholes. Several potholes even spanned the entire width of the road (see cloud emblems below for approximate locations) and were full of muddy water, forcing me to run through the overgrown grass on the sides.

At the end of the spillway, there was a 2-lane track that turned right down the power line easement.  I ran a couple tenths down it before it got so rough and grown up that I had to turn around.

There was shade from one single tree at the turn (see sunglasses). The 1 second of shade made me all the more aware how open and sunny this area was.

When my watch beeped for 1 mile, I already knew things were going to get ugly.

Map of the 8-mile run

After exiting the spillway area, which I wished to never run again, I turned right and headed up a nearly mile-long hill on Skyline Dr. This area is surrounded by trees so I expected there to be ample shade, but I was wrong. The sun was bursting through the pine needles, and I had to weave back and forth across the road (which I did not have the extra energy for) to try to stay in what mottled shade patches there were.

The hill heading up Skyline Drive: I don’t know what time of day or year this was taken, but there was nowhere near this much shade on my run.

Just before reaching the highway, I turned left onto the maintenance road (Forestry Circle), which continued uphill.  The hill, the heat, the fatigue, the thought of 6 more miles to go…somewhere just after 2 miles, it became more than I could take, and I stopped (see sun symbol on route map).

I found some shade on the side of the road and paced back and forth as I drank a bottle of water from my hydration belt. At no point did I consider turning around and heading back to my car, though maybe I should have. It never crossed my mind. Instead, I just thought about what a world of suffering I was in for to finish this run if I was already struggling at only 2 miles in.

After a bit of time, I continued on down the road and past the Corps of Engineers’ maintenance facility. There was a small slice of shade on one side of the road that ran out too soon. I turned left and ran a short distance down the large shoulder of busy highway 7. It’s one thing to suffer on a run, but suffering on display just amps up the torture. I was glad to turn left onto the Lakeview Area road. I ran around the side of the closed yellow gate and knew there would be no passing traffic to worry about for the next few miles.

A view of the turn in to the Lakeview Area from highway 7. I had run down the shoulder from Forestry Circle and turned left here between miles 2 and 3.

The road to the Lakeview area was quiet and wooded but still more sunny than shady.

At the end of the road, I made a conterclockwise loop that went past the dilapidated bathroom and some picnic tables and then started back out. It is not a frequently used area.  Just past 4 miles, I had to stop again. I glugged down another bottle of water, but I was so hot and thirsty that my body hardly even registered that I had drank anything. The 4 bottles in my belt had to be carefully rationed to last me through the whole run…but I remembered seeing a water faucet at the picnic area.  I gulped down the cold water from another bottle – one of the ones I had frozen (nirvana!), thinking I would just walk back down to the picnic area and refill it.

It was farther back down there than I realized, and after walking for a while I got impatient and started to run again.  When I arrived at the faucet, it didn’t work.

No water.

I now had 1 bottle to get me through almost 4 more miles. Oh, I have made a bad, bad miscalculation….

Nothing to do but get back to my car where I knew there was water…so after another rest I started running again. This time, I made a clockwise loop around the picnic area, the small hill having way more bite than it should. Before getting back to the highway, I had to do an out and back side trip off the Lakeview road. This required going around another closed gate. I’m not even sure I would call this a road. It was more of a trail that you could take a vehicle down if you really wanted to. As soon as I ran around the gate, I came to a stop yet again.

Note out and back section between mile markers 5 and 6. Sun emblems show where I had to stop and walk/rest.

It was peaceful back in the woods, a stark contrast to the inner turmoil I was feeling over how badly this run was going. I walked slowly over the blanket of pine straw, wanting water but knowing I couldn’t drink my last bottle yet. I passed a random port-a-potty (there’s a small pond out there where they have fishing derbies – I think), but I had no fluids to give. In my experience, every time you stop during a run, it’s harder to start again. Eventually, I forced myself back into a slow trot, wishing this trail wasn’t going downhill because that just meant I would soon have to come back up it.

When I mapped out the run, I was not sure how far I could go down this “road.” It wound through a gravel pit of sorts and then started getting progressively rougher and more grown up. When I came to a short, steep hill, I balked and turned around. Back up the hill, around the gate, back on the pavement…and just before the highway, I ground to a halt again.

The heat was short circuiting my brain, making time and distance seem to expand. I felt so weak, like I had been running for hours, and the 2+ miles back to my car seemed like a vast expanse of desert to traverse – no water, no shade.

There is a kind of desperate low-grade panic that sets in. Rationally, I knew I would survive this, but in the moment I felt like I could easily collapse right there on the side of the road. I allowed myself to drink half of my remaining bottle of water (a measly 4 oz.).  This was my longest rest yet. My watch went into sleep mode (which happens after 5+ minutes). I imagined this is how the run would be during the upcoming iron-distance triathlon (Michigan Titanium) I was training for but had not yet committed to – except the agony would go on for 26.2 miles instead of 8.

This sucks. This is NOT fun. I am NOT doing that race. I’ve had it with this misery. No. No. No. No more. 

It wasn’t the first time that summer I had talked myself of out the race. In the moment, I meant it, but I would get up to train another day and talk myself out of it all over again.

It took a Herculean effort, but I got my legs moving again, back around the gate, down the highway shoulder, and onto Forestry Circle. The sliver of shade had moved far off the road, and I desperately scanned the maintenance area for any sign of a water faucet.  Nothing.

I had to do one final out and back before heading back down the hill to the finish. This one was 1/2 mile downhill (naturally followed by 1/2 mile uphill)…aaaaand she’s stopping…again.  This was the most times I had ever stopped during a single run – of any distance. I drank my last 4 oz. of water and thought about how far 1.1 miles can seem when you’re feeling bad. After another rest so long my GPS went into sleep mode again, I mustered the last of my strength to get back up the hill to the final left turn.

Even though it was downhill, that last mile felt so long. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to finish what had seemed like an all-day ordeal. I refused to let myself look at my watch until I was sure I  had less than half a mile to go. Across the parking lot to my car…7.97…keep going…7.99…oh come on!…8.0.

DONE.

• Pace: 8:32 pace (NOT accounting for walk breaks/rest time – I stop my watch when I stop – so not accurate at all) 
• Cadence: 178 steps per minute (2 spm below target)
• Elevation gain: + 494 feet

My relief at being done was short-lived as I faced the reality that I was going to have to do this all over again. I got into my car, which was hot as an oven from being parked in the sun for hours, and drove home with my figurative tail between my legs.

Lake DeGray: 1, Penny: 0

Analyzing my training in the week leading up to this failure, I came to the conclusion that I had gotten behind the 8 ball in terms of hydration. In fact, just 2 days before this swim-bike-run, I had gotten so hot and dehydrated out on a bike ride that I had to cut it short (which I NEVER do) and even then barely made it home.

Having addressed that problem plus having the added determination that comes with a previous failure, I felt confident I could get through the run without stopping on my second attempt.  After all, my track record for doing so was 100%.

When I got the tri suit I had worn out of the laundry, I realized I had done the whole 43-mile bike ride with my butt crack on display.

Different day, same tri suit

In my experience, the Achilles heel of a tri suit is the fabric in the middle of the back of the shorts. It wears thin and becomes see-through long before the rest of the suit reaches the end of its usable life.

These are pictures of a different pair of tri shorts than I was wearing but same problem (that’s my hand inside the shorts in the picture on the right):

I decided I didn’t care how many Clark county citizens saw my butt crack. I was going to wear the same tri suit on my repeat attempt.

Saturday 7/7/2018: Attempt #2

I got up well before daylight and was tending to Radar (my rabbit) before heading to the lake when I heard thunder. I pulled up the weather radar and saw that a storm was moving in, and I would have to wait for it to pass. So much for my early start…

I hung out with Radar for a bit. He was just a baby bunny at the time, and I’d only had him for about a month. Something startled him, and he bolted, running headfirst into the bedroom door – hard. When the weather finally cleared enough for me to leave for the lake, I spent the rest of the morning worried I was going to come home and find him dead from a brain bleed. [He was fine.]

At the lake, I parked in the shade near the boat ramp this time, although I knew it would be sunny there by the time I finished my bike ride. I vowed to move my car to a place with constant shade after the swim.

The swim went fine other than having to stop and defog my goggles 4X during the first half. I swam for 1:03, turning around right at the buoy line surrounding the intake system for the dam. Daniel always teases me that I will get sucked into it if I get too close.

Prep bike, talk myself out of moving car again, swing by bathroom, ride up all the hills, constantly compare how I was feeling to how I felt the last time, worry about Radar…

It was sunny and just as hot as the last time but even more humid following the morning’s storm. I felt good though and did allow myself to cut off the extra 2.4 miles this time.

Stop at the church, pee, refill water bottles, suffer up the nasty hills on Brushy Rd, stop at visitor center for water…

So far, so good.

Onto the run (again wearing my Altra Impulse shoes)…dodge the water-filled potholes (even more numerous since the recent rain), try to keep the pace easy, curse the humidity, appreciate the 1 second of shade, try to go really slow up the mile-long hill, sneer at the derelict water faucet, only drink 1 bottle every 15 minutes like a good girl…

I tried to remember exactly where I had turned around to head back down to the picnic area the previous time. I had picked a tree as a landmark but couldn’t locate it so I got as close as I could. I do remember precisely where I was when it hit me that I was not going to get through this run without stopping: I was making the loop around the picnic area for the second time, going up the small hill.  I fought it. I did NOT want to do this whole thing yet again.

At 5.3 miles, just after running around the gate, I lost the fight. In disbelief, I stumbled over to the edge of the pond, squatted down, and splashed the dirty brown water onto my face and neck and on top of my head.

The pond in the woods

I was so freaking hot. I was alone in the woods, and no one was going to bring me ice or more water or drive me back to my car. It was up to my legs to get me there, and it was only getting hotter. (The high was 92F that day.)

When I finally started running again, I thought I could probably make it the 2.7 miles back without stopping. When you’re feeling good, 2.7 miles can feel like nothing. But I wasn’t feeling good. While running on Forestry Circle, it is easy to see the parallel highway, and I noticed a dark gray Ford Ranger pass by. Daniel, is that you?! He knew I was redoing this workout today, and showing up to see if I needed help is definitely something he would do.  I imagined him driving by and handing me a big ‘ol bottle of cold water out the window…

…but it wasn’t Daniel. Not this time.

Since I had already stopped and broken the sanctity of a continuous run, it was hard to talk myself out of stopping again when the volume of physical and mental fatigue got too loud – this time at 6.85 miles.

Map of run showing locations of stops (sun logos) on attempt #2

Two stops was better than 6, but it was still two too many.

I didn’t even look at my runs stats, but I know the 8 miles took me 1:09 and change. (For comparison, I can run 8 miles in about 55 minutes on a really good day.)

Lake DeGray: 2, Penny: 0

Back to the parking lot and another drive home in my 400-degree car. I kept hearing the Shawn Mendes song “In My Blood:”

“Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t. It isn’t in my blood…”

Friday 8/10/2018: Attempt #3

It was over a month before I got around to trying again. I had been keeping a watch on the weather forecast and noticed we had some cooler weather predicted, with highs in the 80s instead of 90s. That was the only thing that could help me. When I saw a high of 85 in the forecast for the day on which I had planned attempt #3, I thought I got this!

The high turned out to be 91F that day.

I am DEFINITELY moving my car to the other side of the parking lot this time!

I needed to try out the new tri suit I planned to wear if I went through with the Michigan Titanium race so I reluctantly sent my Castelli tri suit to that big clothes rack in the sky, but I did still wear the awful Altras.

Before starting the swim, I made a life-changing discovery. I spit in my goggles as usual, but instead of rinsing them out, I flung the spit out and didn’t rinse. I had discovered the secret to preventing goggle fog!! Since I could see clearly the whole time and didn’t have to stop, I had a good, smooth 1:02 swim to the buoy line and back.

I tried to take it down a notch as far as my pace on the bike. Finishing the ride, I felt fine…but I had felt fine after the ride the last two times.

Average speed for bike ride: 17.7 mph over 40.3 miles

As I was gearing up for the run, I realized I had gone off and forgotten 2 of my 4 fuel belt bottles at home. There was no way 2 bottles would be enough water for over an hour of running.

What to do? What to do?

I had a large water bottle from my bike ride that was still halfway full so I decided I would have to make do with that.  I remember feeling good starting that run. As I crossed the road to head to the spillway section, I dropped the large water bottle in the grass. I was mentally prepared for every nuance of this stupid route by now.

When I came out of the spillway, I bent down to swoop up my water bottle.  I never run with anything in my hands, much less a giant 32 oz. water bottle. Since it was only half full, the water sloshed around as I made my way up the big hill with it. At the intersection with Fishery Circle, I drank half of the contents and then ran off the road to drop the bottle in some shade. I would pick it up on my way back through around 7 miles and finish the rest.

Though I felt decent, getting through this run was still a mental war. Every time I passed a spot where I’d had to walk previously, I won a little battle. I was constantly checking in with myself. How am I feeling? Am I faltering? Do I need to slow down? Do I feel better than I did at this point last time?

I ate a Vermont pure maple syrup energy gel at 4 miles and shook my head as I passed the muddy pond. Not this time.

Come hell or high water (or heat or fatigue), I wasn’t doing this again. It was probably around 6 miles when I knew I would make it. It was slow (8:41/mile; 1:09:31; cadence 177 spm), but I never stopped until I reached my car – still parked in the sun.

I went home and signed up for Michigan Titanium 140.6. You can read how that went here if you haven’t already.

Post-Script: While training for Goose Pond Island 70.3 this past spring (2019), I once again failed on my second attempt to successfully complete a training session. This time it was a 56-mile bike ride (out-and-back to the lake) followed by an 8-mile run around town.  The second attempt was unique in that I made it even less far into the run than I did the first time before having to stop and rest. On the third attempt, the temperature was 20 degrees cooler. I nailed it without any trouble, but it felt like cheating!

Post-Script #2: After writing this blog, I got the itch to go run the awful 8-miler again (crazy, right?). I did it this morning (7/29/2019) without the bike and run beforehand but added 2 extra miles for a total of 10. The temp was in the 70’s, and I was blessed with overcast skies 100% of the time.  Even with all that, my conclusion is that it’s still a tough run. I flipped the script and hopped in the lake for the 3,000 yard swim afterwards. I’m testing the waters (pun intended) for a new event I may be taking on in the near future. What could that be….?

Two Halves Don’t Make a Whole

The Backstory: Mom and Mike are on a quest to run either a half or full marathon in each of the 50 states so I tagged along on their most recent trip to check off Nebraska and South Dakota. (I had never been to either one of these states before.) Daniel had to work so he wasn’t able to go with us, making this just the second time since we met in 2010 that he missed any of my races or events.  While I missed his presence during the whole trip, my blog readers will surely miss it here in the lack of photos. I will scrape together what I can, but prepare for disappointment compared to what we are all used to.

Travel Timeline

• Wednesday, June 5: Travel 1.5 hours from Arkadelphia, AR to Redwater, TX
• Thursday, June 6: Travel 8.5 hours from Redwater, TX to Minneapolis, KS where we stayed the night in the *best* Air BnB I have ever experienced!
• Friday, June 7: Travel 6 hours from Minneapolis, KS to Valentine, NE
• Saturday, June 8: Run Sandhills half marathon and then travel 5 hours from Valentine, NE to Viborg, SD where we stayed at the Swan Lake Christian Camp in a nicely decorated new lodge
• Sunday, June 9: Run Swan Lake half marathon and then travel 8 hours from Viborg, SD to Riverton, KS where we stayed at another cool Air BnB in a 121-year old building that served as the town’s post office for many years. (I was so exhausted I did not stay awake to see any ghosts, but I’m sure they were there!)
• Monday, June 10: Travel 6 hours from Riverton, KS to Redwater, TX and then another 1.5 hours from Redwater back to Arkadelphia

RACE #1

Date: Saturday, June 8, 2019

Race: Sandhills Half Marathon

Location: Valentine, Nebraska (population ~2,700)

Start time: 6:00 am (slept from 11:00 pm until 3:30 am – so frustrating)

Weather: 71°F, heavily overcast, 17 mph winds WSW with 25+ mph gusts

Shoes: Nike Zoom Fly

No plan or target pace.

Flooding had caused entire race route to be moved. Original route was a point-to-point starting 40 miles out of town and running through the thick of the sandhills on a blacktop road. Last-minute new route was a 1.6-mile loop (modified rectangle) around town and an out and back on the Cowboy Trail – a rail trail.

clockwise loop around town

full course

Pretty sunrise.

Me, mom, and Mike before the start.

The street in front of Bolo Beer Co. (building on left) where we started.

Announcer: “We can’t shoot a gun in town so we’ll just say ‘Go!'” No chip timing – a man just used an old-school coach’s style stopwatch.

Focused on running tangents around town. Many people were not. Sand in the streets, especially noticeable when turning corners.

First part (<0.5 mile) of Cowboy trail was paved. Went past a cattle auction yard. Smelled bad.

Trail entrance with cattle yard on the left

Not on trail long when I passed a woman wearing a running skirt, blue shirt, and knee-high fluorescent yellow compression sleeves. (I will NOT be beat by a woman running in a dang skirt!!) Tucked in behind guy in yellow shirt and red shorts. Ran right on his shoulder/heels for several miles. I’m sure that was annoying to him. Woman continued to run right on my shoulder and spit periodically. That was annoying to me. Pace was fast but felt sustainable. Told myself to be patient…we’ll space out eventually.

I never looked at my watch except to monitor total elapsed time so I knew when to drink and eat my gels. Drank 4-8 oz. water at 20, 40, 50, 60, 75, and 90 minutes; ate gels at 40 and 75 – GU Roctane orange vanilla and blueberry pomegranate. Carried all in fuel belt. Glad I did.

Trail surface was crushed gravel. Really sandy in places. Footing was not great. Not even good at times. Reminded me of Frisco marathon, but Frisco trail surface was much better.

Sun popped out, and I put my sunglasses on but never saw the sun again until after I was finished.

Crossed long bridge over gorge. Really high up. Wooden surface. Excellent views.

[I never even saw the Niobrara River and didn’t even realize the bridge crossed a river until a conversation in the car later that day.]

Course was uphill and into the wind from far side of bridge to turnaround at 7.3 miles. Two guys running side-by-side (“Man bun boys” – ages 16 and 13) passed (thought it was father and son until I found out their ages after race), and the other man and the woman fell back.

Saw a couple windmills matching those of the race logo.

Pink painted lines on edge of trail and small pink survey flags for mile markers for both half and full marathon. Watch was about 0.1 ahead (instead of behind – for a change). It figures the course would be short since I wasn’t aiming for a PR.

Parking lot between trail and highway

Glad I had looked at elevation profile beforehand and knew the course was uphill from bridge to turnaround; otherwise, I would have just thought I was tanking fast. I know I slowed down quite a bit, but no one passed me.

Shortly before getting to turnaround, I started meeting half distancers heading back in: 1 man…another man…a woman…man bun duo…I was running 2^nd place female and 6^th overall.

Road crossing shortly before turnaround. Ruts with very loose and deep sand. U-turn around orange cone in middle of trail at 7.3 miles. Was glad I was not running the full marathon.

Woman in blue shirt and man in green tank were right behind me. Saw that the woman was running the full marathon (green bib number instead of red). Whew. I had a pretty good gap on the next female back.

Saw younger man bun stopped. I thought older one had gone ahead, but the duo passed me a couple miles later. (Older one was maybe in portapotty ?) (Can I write a single race report without the word portapotty? Probably not.)

Started feeling better on the downhill and picked the pace back up and watched for Mike and then mom. Mike gave me a thumbs up, and mom shared some words of encouragement. I felt like a schmuck running on left (“out”) side of trail, but it was sandy on the right (“back”) side. Tried to move over a bit so I wasn’t running straight at people going the other direction. Runners I met were very friendly and encouraging. “Good job!” “Looking good!” “Way to go!” And the like.

Green tank passed me, and then I passed him back.

Back across the bridge.

Counting down the miles and managing my pace. Long uphill after bridge. Felt like Bentonville half all over again (except nowhere near that bad).

Looked back several times and didn’t see anyone else in sight so I eased up – definitely more than I would have if I didn’t have another race the next day.

Younger man bun pulled ahead, and elder walked for a few steps. Green tank passed me again.

Back on the paved part of the trail (now sprinkling rain), smell the cattle yard again, right turn off of trail onto street…could see Bolo Beer Co. (finish line). Another left…had the finish straight all to myself…across the finish line (a concrete joint in the road with short pink line painted on the side). Finish line was so inconspicuous volunteers were having to point to it. Lowest key finish line ever. No pomp. No circumstance. Handed a horseshoe with TINY engraving – “SH” (Sandhills) on one side and “2019” on the other.

Could the engraving be more tiny!? Do you even see it?

STATS

Finish time: 1:39:12 (7:37/mile) for 13.04 miles via Garmin

Place: 2^nd overall female (out of 39); 7^th overall (M + F) / First place female was 1:33:53; 3rd was 1:42:57.

Elevation gain: +591 feet

Average/max heart rate: 177/194

Cadence: 176 steps per minute (4 spm below target)

Steps: 17,498

Mile splits:

• 1- 7:23
• 2- 7:22 (fastest)
• 3- 7:23
• 4- 7:26
• 5- 7:43
• 6- 7:53
• 7- 8:00 (slowest)
• 8- 7:36
• 9- 7:35
• 10- 7:28
• 11- 7:33
• 12- 7:56
• 13- 7:38

Thumbs Down: $111 entry fee (WAY overpriced, especially for such a no-frills race; same entry fee as for full marathon; race proceeds did not go to any kind of good cause), no Gatorade at finish, crowded spaghetti feed the night before (poor choice of location; smokers present), finish “medal” (horseshoe) [lame], massive lack of organization/management in regards to awards (only the overall winner got an award; they were not even sure if they were giving out age group awards “We haven’t had that conversation yet?” WTH?); race route described as flat (nah, not flat, bro); no chip timing

Thumbs Up: participant shirt – soft cotton T-shirt (not a tech shirt); race was not cancelled due to the flooding; course was pretty scenic outside of town; enjoyed crossing the bridge over the gorge on Cowboy Trail

Overall sentiment: Once again, I’m good but not the best. The curse of the bridesmaid continues.

The Three Runmigos post-race

____________________________________________________________________________________________

 RACE #2

 Date: Saturday, June 9, 2019

Race: Swan Lake Half Marathon

Location: Viborg, South Dakota (population ~870)

Start time: 6:00 am (slept from 9:30(?) pm until 4:13 am)

Weather: 57°F, heavily overcast, periods of light rain, 25-30 mph sustained NW wind with 35+ mph gusts

Shoes: Nike Zoom Fly

Race morning. The shorts I was wearing have places for gels in the front waistband; thus it looks like I have a spare tire in this picture.

Mom and Mike ready to run again.

A little sore in glutes and right hamstring tendon but not too much worse for wear after yesterday’s race.

Route

First half was a clockwise loop around the lake

Full route – We ran both the upper and lower loops clockwise.

Started up front so I could see how many women got out ahead of me. Man firing starting gun was right next to me. Loud! Road heading out of Swan Lake Christian Camp was uphill and muddy. Several of the men had mud-spattered calves before we even got to the first turn, but I managed to avoid it.

I’m third back in the turquoise shirt.

Note: All of the following pictures I have from along the course are from previous years, and I am not in any of them except one.

Aerial view of the start

Runners making the first right turn from the camp driveway onto the road.

Right turn into the wind. STIFF wind. Tall grasses in the ditch were lying down flat in the wind. I might not choose it every day, but on this day the cooler temps and wind were preferable to the soggy humidity of Arkansas in June.

Another right turn still into the wind. Running on a gravel/dirt road past crop fields (crops had been harvested)…this is my kind of running! Minus the wind.

No women in front of me. Yet.

Another right turn at 2 miles, and the wind was at our backs. Ah. what a relief! Stole a glance back and didn’t see any women close by but didn’t let up. First aid station at mile 3. On Gatorade side of road so had to move over to water side. Took water. (Didn’t wear fuel belt today. That’s always risky, but it was a good choice this time.) Volunteer: “You go girl!!”

Running around the north side of the lake – tried to glance over at it a few times to enjoy.

Road turned to pavement. Guy who had been running in front of me stopped at 2nd aid station to drink. I took water from Ms. South Dakota (sash and all) and drank on the run. Guy passed me back up in short order on short, steep uphill.

Where’s the keyhole (section of the course)? I don’t think I’ve done it yet? Mileage on watch was still tracking correctly with mile marker signs so I guess I didn’t miss it…

Did not realize until a couple days later that only the full marathoners did the keyhole section on their 2nd lap of the course.

Got too close to edge of road at one point and right foot slipped in slick mud. Took several strides (right foot slipping each time) before I could get enough traction to move back over.

Not doing the keyhole section of the course messed up the route orientation in my head. Thought I was heading south on next section of road but was really going east (top side of large rectangular portion of course).

Glanced at watch: 41 minutes…ooh time for a gel (Clif mocha). Got it down just in time to grab water and drop wrapper at aid station. Guy running in front of me stopped again.

The highway south heading to Viborg. After passing the aid station, we ran on the shoulder.

Clouds were breaking up a little (though it was by no means sunny) so I put on sunglasses. Fogged up a little. Didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Took them back off.

On the highway (shoulder) headed south towards town of Viborg for about 3 miles. Kept the pace up to take full advantage of tailwind. Never looked at a mile split during race. Could still hear the guy who had stopped for water running behind me for a while. Allowed that to motivate me to keep pushing the pace.

Skinny black dude comes flying by and within minutes has a football field-size gap on me. I had thought it was stop-to-drink guy who was passing me. Said out loud “Where the heck did he come from?!” [Later realized he was a relay runner doing only about 4.5 miles]

Relay runner was wearing Skechers GoRun Hyper 3 shoes (below right) – the exact ones I have waiting on me at home (except in a different colorway – below left). Just delivered Wednesday. Looking forward to trying them out after I recover. [Sent them back already without even running in them. Did not like the shape of the toe box.]

Saw a sign ahead that I thought was “Welcome to Viborg.” Finally got there. Nope. It’s the one farther up… Dodged some soggy grass clumps on shoulder.

Velkommen to Viborg!! Blue sign. Dutch town. (pronounced “Vie Burg”)

Ran straight through the middle of town (which wasn’t far).

We turned right at this stop sign in downtown Viborg.

Right turn. Grabbed Gatorade from aid station. Spilled a lot on me. Worried I’d be sticky later. Continued running through residential section of town.

As soon as I was past the last houses of Viborg (just before mile 9) – WHAM! The wind was back. And strong. Really strong. Crosswind. Felt like my feet were blowing out from under me. Uphill too.

Guy came out of portapotty and started running ahead of me. Judging by pace, probably one of the full marathoners who started early at 5 am. Passed him quickly and said “I have that same shirt!” (from the year I did the Garmin Oz virtual marathon)

Wind gusted so hard once, it almost felt like I came to a standstill.

Another right turn just before mile 10, and wind was even worse heading north. More of a headwind.

Right turn off of highway and onto dirt road heading north just before mile 10.

Ponytail (which is getting quite long) was blowing straight out behind me (or so it felt) and whipping around. Tried to keep effort level the same even though pace was slowing. Had to cinch hat down several times to keep it from blowing off.

The roads were in considerably better shape the year these pictures were taken.

Ate lemonade GU at 1:15. (Stored gels in pockets of waistband of my shorts. I love these shorts! Rabbit Freespirit 6”)

Long uphill section. I had thought this part of the route was downhill! I was wrong. Know your course. Know your elevation profile… These kind of surprises can mess with your head!

At multiple times during last 3 miles, I found myself running 1) uphill 2) into the wind AND 3) in soft, slippery mud. Throw in a big truck hauling farm equipment growling right on my heels during one of those segments. BRUTAL.

Passed a couple farms and a patch of trees on the left along the 3-mile stretch into the wind. Provided a brief but extremely welcome break from the wind.

Looked back several times. Nearest person was pretty far back. Imagined it was a female. Kept pushing. I’m SO glad I’m not running the full marathon today because there is no way I would want to do this stretch into the wind again.

I need my Daniel!

Thought about Garth Brooks song “That “ol Wind”

Was starting to sink in that I was actually going to win this thing.

After running into the wind for 76572 hours, finally saw stop sign in the distance where I would turn left. Caravan of vehicles was arriving for the 5K that started at 8 am (was about 7:40 am at the time).

Skipped the last aid station at the intersection. Turned left and uphill. One final look back. You’re good. Glanced at watch – 1:38 something. Dodged mud to get to the last right turn back into the camp. Down the driveway and through the finish.

Runners are invited to ring the bell to signify their finish.

Check out the flags being blown sideways by the wind.

STATS

Finish time: 1:39:53 (7:35/mile) for 13.20 miles via Garmin

Place: 1st overall female (FINALLY) (out of 24) 6^th overall (M + F) / 2nd place female was over 8 minutes back.

Full results

Elevation gain: +246 feet

Average/max heart rate: 169/188

Cadence: 180 steps per minute (right on target)

Steps: 18,054

Mile splits:

• 1- 7:39
• 2- 7:46
• 3- 7:20
• 4- 7:21
• 5- 7:23
• 6- 7:18 (fastest)
• 7- 7:25
• 8- 7:25
• 9- 7:26
• 10- 7:52
• 11- 8:01 (slowest)
• 12- 7:57
• 13- 7:45
• 0.20- 1:26

The wind had a significant effect of my pace.

Thumbs down: rinky dink finisher’s medal; getting cornered by an Herbalife rep when I went looking for post-race refreshments (Just give me the chocolate recovery drink and keep your pyramid scheme sales pitch, please and thanks); mud and wind (though not anyone’s fault); have to wait for awards to be mailed

Thumbs up: Pretty much everything else! Hospitality and organization of race personnel and Swan Lake camp staff was second to none; free gels at check-in; able to stay onsite and walk to start; told checkout time was “whenever we were ready”; nice brunch afterwards; goody basket with fruit, homemade baked goods, Chex mix, Mio Sport, and a water bottle for being first female finisher; cooler temps; proceeds from race supported a good cause (scholarships to send kids to summer camp)

I saw a large white bird on the other side of the lake after the race. It may have been a pelican, but I am going to say it was a swan because that thought makes me happy 🙂

Swan! It’s a swan!

Overall sentiment: After getting so many 2^nd and 3^rd places over the last couple/few years, it feels SO good to finally notch a WIN! I just wish Daniel could have been there to see it.

Post-Script

I was surprised I felt as good as I did the second day. Having never done two back-to-back races like this, I really didn’t know what to expect. A full marathon is definitely harder. I enjoyed the race venue and overall vibe much more on the second day. I think the travel and sleep disruptions wore me out much more than the actual running.

Did you win?

Runners often joke about this question being asked of them by non-runners who don’t understand that running a PR, beating last year’s time, winning your age group, or even just finishing can be constituted as a personal “win.” I think we have come up with these various definitions for winning (which I am all in favor of) because there can only be one true winner in a race, and that leaves a lot of people feeling like…well, losers (as in “2nd place is the first loser.”)  Some people will never get to know what it feels like to win a race in the truest sense – to be the first person of their gender across the finish line on that day. I’m blessed to have experienced this feeling many times in a variety of different races, but it has been a while (years).

Being in the lead motivated me to keep pushing during the race, and I felt a sense of pride being the leading lady as I passed by spectators, volunteers, etc. There was also a rush of “Yes! Finally!” when I crossed the finish line, and a volunteer handed me the goody basket, saying “You’re the first female!” But after that…if I had expected much, I would have been disappointed. I got the same finisher’s medal as everyone else, the same post-race food and drink, and no special recognition or treatment the rest of the day or thereafter.  In short, winning only matters for a brief time and even then not that much.

I’ll do good to remember that the only one taking this stuff seriously is me.

 

 

Goose Pond Island 70.3 Triathlon: Part III – Running Full on Empty

The 13.1-mile run course left transition on Ed Hembree Dr. and went across the bridge. Here, we swung onto a paved trail paralleling Ed Hembree. At about 1.25 miles, we left the trail and got back on Ed Hembree just in time to make a right turn onto the campground road (Shorty Robertson Rd.) After making a small loop at the end, we headed back, but before reaching the intersection with Ed Hembree, we turned right onto a short dirt path that cut through the woods to the dead end of Bob Jones Rd. We followed Bob Jones all the way out to the highway (Goose Pond Dr.), where we made a right turn.  After about a mile on Goose Pond Dr., we turned around and did both of these out and back sections (campground road and Bob Jones/Goose Pond) a second time before retracing the first 1.25 miles back to transition.

I did NOT want to run.

At all.

The first aid station was at 0.38 miles, and I had planned to stop there all along to load up with ice so I broke into a slow run with that as my destination.

Heading out on the run while another athlete comes into transition on his bike

I came to a dead stop at the first aid station and started picking up the tiny little Dixie cups partially full of ice and dumping them down my sports bra, into my back pockets, and into my hat.  “More! More!” I kept on saying as I went through tiny cup after tiny cup.  I also drank some water and got a cold towel to wrap around the back of my neck. Once I was all set, I didn’t take off running as I should have (as was the plan).  No, I kept on walking for 0.06 miles before feeling like I could run again.

The first time I saw Daniel on the trail, I wanted to stop, fall into his arms and cry, and drop out of the race.  The urge was strong. But he was cheering excitedly as I ran past so I kept going…but not for long. At 0.65 miles, there was a steep little hill on the trail, and the woman in front of me (who had passed me at the first aid station) was walking. That looked nice so I walked too for another tenth of a mile.  Daniel later told me that he knew if I was walking in the first mile I must really be feeling bad. I was.

The trail had some shady patches, but after that shade was very scarce. I had started the run just before 11 am.

As soon as I got off the trail, I started running again…but not for long.  The second aid station was at 0.98 miles so I stopped there for more water and continued walking until 1.06 miles.  This course was hilly. It was either uphill or downhill at all times with hardly any flat sections of significant length. I tried to run on all of the downhill sections, but even that felt hard.

I forced myself to complete the loop at the end of the campground and then a little more before stopping again at 1.65 and walking over a tenth of a mile. There were a couple gravel patches in the road and lots of speed bumps.  Having to navigate those in my fragile state was asking a lot. It was Memorial Day weekend, and the campground was packed out with nice, large campers.  I had expected there to be a lot of people out, maybe sitting in their lawn chairs next to the road watching the race go by or at least looking on from the picnic tables at their campsites. But no. In this large, completely full campground, there were hardly any campers out and about.  I guess they were either out on the lake or in the air conditioned RV’s.  Either way, they were cooler than I.

I met a woman on the out section and asked if she was having fun. She sarcastically replied, “Oh yeah! You?” Me: “Nope. None at all.” This run was a lot of things. It was a gut check, a test of my will to finish, a slog, my slowest half marathon ever…but it was not fun.  At least I wasn’t alone though.  No one out there looked like they were enjoying it. Even Daniel said everyone looked miserable, and the enthusiasm was toned down from what he usually witnesses.

When I got back to the beginning of the campground road, I stopped at the aid station again. In fact, let me just save us some time and tell you that I stopped 13 of the 15 times I passed aid stations.  The only ones I passed up were the last 2, including the one 0.38 miles from the finish.

I didn’t just grab water as I ran by these stations. No, I completely stopped to load up on ice, swap out my cold towel, and gather drinks to carry as I walked away. I have to give props to the volunteers as they were very eager and accommodating to me and I’m sure to all the other runners as well.

Daniel was there taking pictures when I stopped at the third aid station, and he followed me as I walked the cut through trail to the dead end of Bob Jones Rd. For the first time, I vocalized to him how bad I was struggling and that I didn’t think I could finish.  He just kept right on encouraging me as if I were winning the race.

A rare photo of me walking during a race.

Heading out on Bob Jones Rd, there was a really long uphill section, and I forced myself to run part of it before stopping at the aid station at the top.  By the time I turned onto the highway (Goose Pond Dr.), the male leader was at mile 11 and headed for the finish.  He looked to be running along as easy as could be and under no strain whatsoever.  I hated him.  I wanted to be at mile 11.  I wanted to be done with this disastrous “run.” I no longer cared about pace, time, or place.  I just wanted to be done. I continued to run when I could and walk when I had to.  It felt like I was walking as much as I was running.

The section on the highway was particularly miserable as there was zero shade, and you could see forever, a line of green cones stretching into the distance – distance I was going to have to run and then turn around and run again…and then do twice more on my second trip out and back.  My stomach was bloated, and I felt nauseous.  It was hard to breathe and I was thirsty, but I felt worse every time I drank.

At the Goose Pond Dr. aid station, I made my only pit stop of the race.  Being the first one into that portapotty, it didn’t smell (yay!), but I had to start the toilet paper roll.  I clawed at it with my sweaty hands, ripping away damp shreds but never getting it rolling.  It probably looked like a wild animal had been trapped in there.

Near the turnaround on Goose Pond Dr, there were parts of dead fish in the road, which stunk to high heaven in the mid-day heat (and which I had the pleasure of smelling all four times I ran past). The timing mats at the turnaround were buzzing, powered by a full size DuraLast battery. I made the sharp U-turn and then stopped to walk again. When I reached the cone with the 5-mile marker on it, I began to run again but only up the hill to the next aid station.  Since I was run/walking and bloated, my normal gel-every-30-minutes nutrition strategy was blown up, and I hadn’t taken in any calories since starting the run.  I was carrying 3 gels, but it was easier to just grab one (vanilla GU) off the table at the aid station than to wrestle it out of my belt. This was about 50 minutes(?) into the run.

Every time Daniel would hop out to take pictures, he left his truck running. When I would run past it, I wanted so badly just to jump into the cold A/C! After taking pics, he would get back in his truck and pass me again, a couple of times holding up my blue rabbit squishmallow (“stress bunny”). This made me smile.

I should have saved the miles on my vaporfly 4% shoes.  This effort was certainly not worthy of their awesomeness.

Mentally, I started to feel a little better when I got to 6 miles because I was almost halfway done.  I was even able to joke with  Daniel about how bad I was doing.

“This sucks!” Two thumbs down.

I had people pass me while I was walking and say “great job!” which confused me.  Walking is not doing a great job.  Do you remember the woman I mentioned earlier who passed me while I was stopped at the very first aid station? Well, we leapfrogged each other for the whole run leg. She would stop to walk, and I would pass her running.  Then I would stop to walk, and she would run past me. Again and again. We never spoke.

While I was stopped at the Bob Jones aid station, a runner came up to the table who was wearing leather sandals. He was running in sandals. I’ve seen this before at other races (and have even seen barefoot runners), but it still blows my mind.  How could that possibly be comfortable or improve performance? The minimalist movement has passed.  We [runners] tried it, and it failed us. I guess that’s one way this run could have been worse. I could have been doing it in leather sandals.

Putting ice in my hat

I felt a little guilty for how much ice I was dumping on my body instead of putting in my drinks, but I had to stay cool.  The air temperature was near 90 degrees, and the high humidity reduced the effectiveness of sweating, making it feel much hotter.

Going into this race, I knew the heat was going to be a factor on the run.  I simply had not had enough weeks and enough long workouts in the heat to develop the heat tolerance I needed.  However, the run wasn’t going as bad as I had expected.

It was going worse.

A lot worse.

At the end of Bob Jones Rd, I hit the cut through again. The roots and uneven ground wore me out extra quickly even though it was a very short section.

My second trip through the campground was similar to the first. A/C units were buzzing all around me, and few campers stirred about save for a young boy playing basketball in the street.  There were more runners on the course by now, and we relied on each other for encouragement in the absence of spectators.

When I got to mile 8, I felt discouraged at the thought of still having 5 miles to go.  Five miles can be nothing if you’re feeling good, or it can be a really long ways if you’re not. A group of boy scouts and their leader was in charge of the aid station on Goose Pond Dr.  When I stopped there on my last trip through, I heard the leader state that they were out of water and almost out of Gatorade.  Hopefully the race organizers were able to bring them more because a lot of runners still had a lot of time left to go out there.

I took a cup of Gatorade and one of water along with a lemon lime gel and walked on. It was hard to get the gel open and eat it while carrying the two cups.

The later miles start to run together, but they were more of the same. Run. Walk. Drink. Bloat. Walk. Run. Repeat.

When I got to the 11-mile marker, I checked my watch.  If I ran the last 2 miles, I could still PR.  Even with that carrot in front of me, I couldn’t do it.  I walked three more times between mile 11.05 and 11.82. Actually, to be honest, if I had dug really deep, I probably could have run those last 2 miles without stopping, but this effort was not worthy of a PR. This was not what I wanted to remember as my best race over 70.3 miles.

I saw Daniel again just before my last trip through the cut-through trail section. “How many more out and backs do you have?” he asked. I replied, “none,” and he said, “I’ll see you at the finish!”

I walked until I got back to mile marker 12 at the start of the trail section, and then I decided it was time to finish this thing up.  My Nike 4%’s felt squirrelly on the trail’s tight turns, but I appreciated the shade. I couldn’t wait to get into some shade and stay there!

To my surprise, Daniel ended up stopping to catch me one more time along the trail during the last mile before getting in position at the finish.

When I passed the aid station at the end of the bridge, I looked at my watch: 5:52. (During the race, I was under the impression that this aid station was 0.5 miles out.  Only in reviewing my GPS data, did I learn it was at 0.38.) If I had any hopes left of getting a PR (whether worthy or not), they disappeared then as I knew I could not cover the last half mile in 2 minutes.

Up ahead on the bridge, I saw two women walking side by side.  One of them was the racer who I had been back and forth with for the whole run.  I was charging hard, giving it all I had left, and closing the gap when the other woman looked back and saw me.  They both started running at that point. As I made the last right turn to the finish, I saw one woman peel off to the side as the other went across the finish line. It turns out, she had been paced over the last mile, which is totally against the rules.

After what had seemed like a lifetime out on that run course, I finally crossed the finish line, and Daniel was there waiting to pour cold water all over me – aaaahhhh!

I collected my thin wooden finisher’s medal and long-sleeve tech finisher’s shirt and then headed for the shade where I collapsed in a bed of clover.

My stomach was hurting so bad.

Run time: 2:21:33 (10:42/mile)

Run place: 17/80 total (men + women) = top 21%

The charts below reveal that I stopped at aid stations or stopped to walk a total of 29(!) times over the 12.98 miles. I walked a total of 2.5 miles. There is no arguing that this is my worst run ever of any distance. That last mile though…

Previous 70.3 run comparisons: 1:48:08 or 8:18 per mile (Rev3) (NO walking); 2:03:27 or 9:16/mile; (walked 1 mile of the HITS run).  The Rev3 run had 246 feet of elevation gain, while HITS had 397. My GPS recorded 687 feet of gain for GPI!

Finish time: 5:56:02 

My finish time at HITS was 5:54:01 and 5:55:22 at Rev3.  While 5:56 is not what I expected, it is still interesting that across 3 different courses in 3 different years, my times over this distance were so consistent.

After about 20 minutes of lying in a semi-fetal position, I was able to sit up (with some help from Daniel).

Despite my subpar performance, I was still the 5th overall female (out of 23) and won my age group. Full disclosure: there was only one other person in my age group, which is very unusual as it is usually the biggest age group at most races. Anyways, I beat 2nd place by over an hour and got a beach towel.

Full Results

Post-Race Thoughts/Analysis

I trained for this race thinking I had a chance (though small) to win it if no one crazy fast showed up, and I assumed a PR was more or less a given. I have done 4 full ironmans since my last 70.3 (read: lots of experience), and half of my best time for the full distance was (still is) faster than my 70.3 PR.  Talk about being humbled.

A lot of things leading up to this race didn’t go ideally though. I trained way too hard for the half marathon (Bentonville) back in late March and never have felt very good since. Ironically, the whole reason I trained for and raced that half was to strengthen my half marathon for the 70.3.  That totally backfired.  I had 3 “failed” brick runs and 1 “failed” long run during training where I had to stop and walk. I repeated each of those workouts successfully, but my confidence was eroded.  Maybe the whole reason I failed those runs in the first place is because I wasn’t feeling my usual self after the half.

What really sunk me was the heat and the stomach issues.  I used the same nutrition strategy as I did on the bike for Redman 140.6. It worked just fine then, and I rode at the same intensity for twice as long. It was a cooler day though so that could have made a difference. The big bloat aside, I still wasn’t conditioned enough to the heat to have come close to running that half marathon nonstop.

Yes, I went hard on the bike, but based on recent training, a 19.1 mph average pace should have been manageable for me and not a major overreach. As I said before, I rode this same pace for twice the distance at Redman and still ran the full marathon faster than my half marathon pace for GPI.

In the end, the training I did for this race and the time and expense of the travel feels like a wasted effort. I know there are lessons to be learned from it, but the one I am stuck on right now is that I am pretty burned out on the sport of triathlon. Training for triathlons requires frequent brick runs. Brick runs are hard. Brick runs in the heat are 5 levels beyond hard, and now I fear them. Right now, I don’t have any future plans to train for or race 70.3 or 140.6. I’m not beaten; I’m just tired of putting in the effort when I’m not feeling good and not enjoying it. I need to get back to a place of feeling good and feeling enthusiastic about training before I consider racing again.

I have to end by giving props to Daniel. I went to some dark places during that run, but he never came down to my level of hopelessness and negativity. Instead, he remained upbeat and cheered for me like he would in any other race.  If it weren’t for him, I would have called it a day after the bike and scored my first DNF.  Also, the variety, number, and quality of pictures he got may be a new PR for him!

Goose Pond Island 70.3 Triathlon: Part II – Bike (Welcome to the Zoo)

Want to know where I got the title? Listen to the first 15 seconds

Want to know why I picked the title? Keep reading.

THE BIKE

I ran out of transition on a mission to crush this bike ride.  The chilled bottle of Hammer Perpetuem (liquid nutrition) in my back pocket bounced violently as I made my way through the carpeted ditch and out to the road.

Look at her go in those Speedplay “walkable” cleats! Most triathletes run their bikes by holding onto the seat only, but Fugio has a major handlebar flop issue that will not allow me to do this. 

For those less familiar with the rules of triathlon, you are not allowed to get on your bike until after crossing the mount line – noted here by the two cones holding signs next to the road.

The first thing I did once mounted was make sure my bottle was still back there.

Bike Route: 56 miles – single out and back; 1,202 feet elevation gain

The bike started by heading out of Goose Pond Colony Resort and onto a 4-lane highway towards Scottsboro. I passed the woman who had exited the swim just in front of me before even reaching the highway. I noticed the first 3 men I passed were all wearing hydration backpacks.  Anticipating the hot day ahead, we had been told in a pre-race email to “drink early and often,” and there would only be one water stop on the whole bike route, though we would pass it twice (at miles 18 and 38). I ate a small granola bar as soon as I hit the highway and easily downed one whole bottle of water in the first 10 miles.

The roads on this bike course were not closed to traffic (not unusual for a smaller race), but the first and last 8 miles into and through downtown Scottsboro should have had a lane coned off or at the very least a lot of really big, hard-to-miss signs warning motorists of cyclists in the road. The speed limit was at least 55 mph on this road, and Daniel said he saw several cars swerve at the last minute to avoid hitting cyclists they came upon unexpectedly. It was really dangerous!

To make matters worse, there was NO traffic control at the red lights and stop signs (save for one).  This meant that if one of the 3 or 4 traffic lights encountered turned red on you, then you had to STOP!  In a race.  This should never ever happen and is my #1 complaint about this race.  I hit one red light on the way out and was able to run it after slowing way down since nothing was coming. The stop signs going through downtown weren’t as bad because you could slow down and then proceed with caution, but still you had to slow down – which is not something you want to do involuntarily in a race.

The first several miles on the highway involved a lot of long, gradual climbing.  Usually, my legs feel tight for the first 10 miles or so when I ride right after swimming. (I affectionally refer to this condition as “garbage legs” or “doo-doo legs.”) Not today though. Today, they felt good from the start, and I motored up those inclines NBD.

The pre-race email had also warned us about a “severe” railroad crossing early on. The race organizers had put a narrow strip of rubber mats across to smooth it out, but going over those was about as rough as the tracks. There were a handful of water bottles lying in the road that had bounced out of the bottle cages of riders who had crossed in front of me.  Those in themselves created a hazard.

Daniel had caught up with me by 8 miles. He got out to take pictures as I passed and then jumped ahead to 13 miles. I was glad we had driven the route the day before because the route got kind of convoluted going through downtown, and the turn signs were small and easy to miss.

Around mile 8; I can hardly handle the crookedness of my helmet -aaagh!

After leaving Scottsboro, the route headed out into the country on narrow, 2-lane roads. Since there were no paralleling roads that would allow him to avoid driving on the race route, I didn’t expect to see Daniel again until I came back through Scottsboro near the end of the ride.

I was feeling good, riding a fast pace, and enjoying a very slight tailwind (though I would not realize that until it turned into a headwind on the way back).  The roads were all smooth and in good shape – much better than a lot of the ones I train on in rural Arkansas.  I sipped 1/5 of a bottle of Perpetuem* every 10 miles and tried to drain both water bottles by the time I got to the aid station at mile 18.  There was only one guy working it so I came to a complete stop in order to swap out both bottles.

*I just used what Perpetuem I had on hand so that was 1 packet (~2.25 scoops) of café latte flavor and ~1.25 scoops of strawberry vanilla from another packet. Not the best flavor combinations, but I mostly just tasted the strawberry which is odd because there was a lot more café latte.

Since Perpetuem does not contain electrolytes, and I was not consuming any sports drink, I swallowed an Endurolytes (electrolyte) capsule at about 1 hour into the bike and another at ~2 hours in. Even as early as the swim, I’d had a bit of a “stomach in my throat” sensation (reflux?). It started to bother me a little as the bike went on so I took a couple antacids at 20 miles to try to settle the beast. Would the beast accept my offering?

As I mentioned, this route got pretty rural, and we rode past a lot of corn and wheat fields (which I always find scenic) and farms and through a really cool (pun intended) shade tunnel. When you’re out in the country, you also see more critters.  Two guys were riding up the road from me, and they swerved dramatically. I soon found out why. Snake!  Live snake! Big live snake in the road! I saw another one (equally big and alive) in a different location on the way back.

Unfortunately, the snakes were alive, while the other animals I saw (and like to see alive) were roadkill. There was a bloated, intact raccoon, remnants of an armadillo, a baby possum, and most upsetting of all – a rabbit 😦  The vultures had drug the rabbit from the road into the ditch by the time I made my second pass. I tried to look away.

I saw a lot of other animals including a cows, chickens, turtles, a beaver, skunk, giraffe, elephant, platypus, polar bear, and whale. You started questioning me at giraffe didn’t you? These animals were neither alive nor dead.  Wait what?! 

They were part of a roadside oddity known as the Rock Zoo. Daniel and I had stopped to take some pictures when driving the course the day before.

See the bunny?

Daniel and I believe the animal in the foreground is a periscoping rabbit with its ears broken off. The goose in the background is the only dang goose I saw during my whole time in and around GOOSE pond.

Told you I saw a giraffe, whale, and elephant!

But back to the ride.

A guy I had passed earlier was hanging out in my draft zone. I had only seen one motorcycle with draft marshals pass by and would see them just one more time during the 56 miles. The riders were spread out enough that it wasn’t a huge issue, but obviously some people took advantage.

Dude was totally drafting off of me (closer than 3 bike lengths)

At mile 22, I saw the lead male on his way back in. At mile 25, I ate half a small granola bar and continued to drink often.  I had been riding hard and was not feeling great anymore, but I still felt pretty good.

At mile 26, we arrived in the small town of Fackler, where we would cross a set of railroad tracks and turn left for the final 2 miles of the out portion. As I crossed the tracks and swung left, I was surprised and delighted to see Daniel! He had figured out he could hop on the freeway and get over to Fackler without having to take the same route as the cyclists.

Just after passing through Fackler, I saw the lead female heading back. She was 4 miles ahead of me. The turnaround at 28 miles was a cone in the middle of the road, and I had to navigate it with two guys right on my tail. Fackler VFD guys were standing there and said, “Ya’ll be careful” as we headed back the direction we had come.

Daniel was awaiting my arrival back in Fackler.

I include this photo only to say what an unfortunate name for that church.

Back across the tracks; the woman on the left was 4 miles back.

After leaving Fackler, the same guy who had been drafting earlier continued to hang close behind me.  This motivated me to continue pushing the pace to try to shake him. We met a steady stream of riders still heading out, and the stream eventually trickled down to a few stragglers bringing up the rear.

Everything I didn’t feel on the first half of this ride came home to roost on the way back. I felt the increasing heat, the mounting fatigue and burning in my legs, the headwind (only a slight breeze but felt like more), and the topo lines. Even though it was a pretty flat route, I felt even the smallest little bumps in the last 20 miles.

At mile 35, I ate the other half of my second small granola bar and swapped out the water bottle I had emptied for a fresh one at mile 38. I saw Daniel again at ~mile 43. My shadow had finally dropped back. He’s the blur behind me in the picture below.

I had gone from feeling great to pretty good to meh to not very good, but I still had a smile and wave for my Daniel.

There were maybe 2 or 3 other spectators besides Daniel on the whole course so I had plenty of time to be all up in my thoughts.  An old Clint Black song called “No Time to Kill” popped into my head. Here’s the chorus:

No time to kill, even I’ve said it and probably always will
But I can look ahead and see that time ain’t standin’ still.
No time to kill but time to change the kind of hurry I’ve been in
And quit this work and worry looking back at where I’ve been.
If you don’t look ahead nobody will, there’s no time to kill.

The last 10 miles got kind of ugly. I had to drop into the small chainring for the first time all day to get up a small hill in downtown Scottsboro.  I knocked back the last bit of my now hot and undesirable Perpetuem before crossing a set of railroad tracks and making a series of turns to get back to the main highway.

Even though it was mostly downhill back to Goose Pond, it sure didn’t feel like it. My speed had dropped, my temperature had increased, and I realized just how dangerous it was to be riding on this highway. I went ahead and started my GPS watch so it could get found and ready to go for the run.  The problem was, I was not feeling like I was going to be ready to run.

I normally eat 4 Peeps during my transition from bike to run when I do brick workouts in training.  (I stock up when they go on sale after Easter.) Not wanting to waste time in T2, I had brought the Peeps on my bike to eat just before I got there.  I had two cotton candy flavored chicks and two fruit punch flavored chicks, but it was not easy to get them down.  The beast within was stirring, and my stomach felt very full. Things did not improve over the final few miles back to transition.

When I dismounted my bike, I did not run with it into transition as I have at every other triathlon I’ve ever done. Instead, I casually walked it in and hung it on the rack.

Bike Time: 2:54:10 (19.1 mph)

This is a 70.3 bike leg PR for me, beating my time/average speed at Rev3 (3:19:19/17.1 mph) and HITS (3:05:10/18.1 mph).

T2

I took my time in T2, hoping I could recover some strength and cool down a little while being stopped.  I felt horrible. Daniel was just outside the transition fence, shouting encouragement and letting me know 2nd and 3rd place had just left out on the run. Normally, this would light a fire under me to give chase.  Not today.  Not when I felt like I personally was being engulfed in flames. Geez, it was hot! As I bent over to put on my running shoes, sweat poured off my face and pooled on the asphalt.

I like this picture because I feel like it captures how out of it I felt coming into T2.  I just kind of stood there and stared at the ground for a second in disbelief that I could feel so bad with a half marathon still left to run.

Killing time to delay the start of the run by pouring water on myself

It was bad enough to see athletes who had completed the sprint race leaving the venue with their bikes on their cars as I was headed in, but now I was having to listen to the awards ceremony. The announcer said, “Thanks for coming out and racing with us. I know it was a hot day…” WAS?! WAS a hot day for athletes whose race had lasted an hour total and who had been done for a while now?! I felt sorry for myself.

I calmly walked out of transition and towards the timing mat that would signal the start of my run.

T2 Time: 4:38 – between my two previous 70.3 T2 times of 3:09 (Rev3) and 5:02 (HITS)

Another line from the Clint Black song mentioned earlier goes: “So have it spent before you get the bill, there’s no time to kill.”

I had spent my energy, and now it was time to pay the bill…