Tri the Midlands: Short Race, Long Race Report

I was on the fence about doing TTM this year, but decided I should do it because it would be good practice for transitions and be a great high-intensity workout. I knew I would be slower than last year, since I haven't done much speedwork or ANY hills reps yet this season.

I wasn't very excited about doing the race, but I wasn't nervous either. I registered on site on race morning - that was an odd experience because it added more "things to do" to an already hectic pre-race routine. I didn't even know what time my wave would go off - and didn't really care! I figured I'd just follow all the other women with my color of swim cap.



Members of the NW YMCA Tri Club before the race. Great people!

The day before the race, I read my TTM race reports from the last two years to re-familiarize myself with the race mentally and see what suggestions I had made for myself for next time. (Key notes included, "Don't ever do this race again because the run is awful and it's a zillion degrees," as well as, "Beat Alex McDonald," but that wasn't helpful, since he wasn't racing this year. Something about running out of XXL swim caps...)

One big question mark about the race was how my lungs would react. Overall, they've been much better, but humidity seems to be my biggest asthma trigger. I have to find a way to deal with this if I want to continue racing. And by "deal" I mean "make it not happen anymore."

I started the swim and felt okay, even though the TTM age group swim start is pretty violent compared to other races. It was the same way last year (I'm glad I had noted this in last year's race report). It's just a lot of bodies crammed into a narrow starting area. I sometimes wait 7 or 8 seconds before starting the swim to give myself room, but this year I went when the buzzer sounded. I started toward the back of the pack. I didn't get kicked, I just got swum over and bumped into, and I kept swimming into a girl doing backstroke. She did backstroke faster than I could do freestyle. Sigh.

I swam in a pretty straight line - at least, better than previous years.

Yes, this is "pretty straight" for me and very much "better than previous years."

I kept bumping into backstroke girl, and sometimes I would get a good mouthful of water. That doesn't bother me much mentally, but physically I must've been swallowing air like I do a lot... and I hadn't taken a Gas-X like I sometimes do to help with the bloating during the swim. I'd been aware of the sound of my breathing, and although I felt I could breathe fine, it sounded a little raspy. I just made a mental note and carried on.

I rounded the second turn buoy and started the third and final leg of the swim. I was feeling pretty good, swimming comfortably and focusing on form. About 100yds from the finish, I felt my throat get tight. It felt like I'd swallowed an egg whole and it had lodged in my throat. I was fairly certain it was an air bubble that couldn't find its way out, but I wondered if it was my airway closing up. I looked around for a boat and there was one nearby. I thought, if I'm having an asthma attack, I'll have to wave to the boat and climb aboard, and somehow get to T1 and grab my inhaler (which I had already used before the race). Then I'll take more puffs, which will make my heart race. And I might OD. I felt the panic surge through my entire body - legs felt like jelly, arms got weak, head was swimming, heart was racing. I had maybe 75yards to go, and I had to decide whether to just keep going or to wave for help. I thought it might just be an air bubble and anxiety, but then thought I might die that way because it really was asthma. I decided to keep swimming and reassess when I got to shore. I also decided that triathlons/races aren't good for me anymore.

Relieved to have not died.

 

I survived the swim. My swim time was MUCH slower than last year. Like, three minutes slower. And I was slow last year! Unbelievable.

Usually on the bike leg, my plan is to start easy for 5 minutes to get my heartrate down from T1, then take off. But I didn't - I went fairly hard from the get-go. At least, I was working hard, but I wasn't going very fast. I should've done my usual plan. Learning experience! Ding ding!

A few miles into the bike, I was working hard and breathing hard, and with every deep breath I thought I felt my heart skip. I tried to tell myself it was an air bubble... my stomach was bloated and upset from the air I swallowed on the swim - but it really freaked me out. But I just kept on going. I felt like I had dueling personalities: On one shoulder was the Angel of Reassurance: "You're strong and healthy. You just did an Ironman, for God's sake." On the other shoulder was the Asshole of Anxiety: "Yeah, you just did  an Ironman, which is terrible for you and damaged your heart and caused inflammation and YOU ARE GOING TO DIE." I punched the asshole in the throat and kept going.

Usually on that course I fall apart on the last 3 miles of the bike leg, but for once, I felt strong and really killed those last 3 miles. "Really killed" means "didn't want to puke or quit and I passed several people and NOBODY PASSED ME." My overall bike time was slower than last year's, as I thought it might be - but I felt like I went fast! Sigh. At least only one female passed me during the bike leg, and I passed a good number of people.

At T2 I started to run out without my race number. Doh! I ran back for it then took off. I made myself slow down because in my race report last year, I noted I ran too fast out of transition and up that first hill and paid for it later. So this year, I shuffled uphill slowly and made the left turn into the rolling section.

As I approached The Hill on mile 2, I saw my friend Ken in front of me. I was tired and was trying to come up with a walk/run strategy for the hill. Of course, I should've done that before the race... Anyway, I caught up with Ken (who looked REALLY strong and had a great race) and asked him what his plan for the hill was. He said, "Run up it." Dammit!. So I ran up it with him. I really, really wanted to walk! The only times I walked were the water stops. There were 3 water stops on the run and I walked all of them! On a sprint! Wow.

One of the greatest things about this race is seeing all your friends during the out and back run leg. On my way out, I tried to shout encouragement to everyone that was on their way back. Of course, I really wanted be on my way back at that point... Anyway, this was my first race as a member of the Cycle Center Tri Team, and it was FANTASTIC to race with my teammates. I wish I had better words to describe it.

I had figured I'd finish in the bottom third of my age group, but ended up with 5th, even though I was 4 minutes slower overall than last year. Of course, AG placement is mostly about who shows up that day - and that's out of my control. Some of the usual suspects weren't there; had they been, I definitely would've finished lower.

My run was only 4 seconds slower than last year, but last year was way hotter, so comparatively, I was much stronger then. On the bright side, I didn't do as poorly as I'd thought I would. But getting slower is awful, and I did not enjoy much of the race because of my fears.

Jeff & Sophie came to see the race, and Ken pulled me up The Hill

After the race, I didn't bounce back to normal as quickly as I usually do. JC and Sophie were there, and they walked around with me. Even after 10 minutes I still felt pretty shitty. I told Jeff that and he reminded me that you're supposed to feel shitty after a race (but usually for me it doesn't last that long). It took a while, but I finally got back to mostly normal. EXCEPT I got The Headache.

The Headache is the post-exercise headache that puts me out of commission for 24 hours. I warmed up slowly and thoroughly, I hydrated well, I took plenty of electrolytes, I took in proper fuel before, during and afterward, I didn't overheat, I cooled down almost immediately after the race... This is just so frustrating. I got through 6 months of Ironman training and over 16 hours of a very hot Ironman without getting The Headache. Then in one 90 minute race, I'm knocked on my ass again. The only variable that's different is intensity. I will have to keep an eye on this and see if high-intensity exercise is the culprit. If it is, then I'll have to decide if racing or even doing speedwork is worth it.

Anyway, that's everything. I'm sorry if you read through this entire report; I really just wanted to get it all out for myself, so I could reflect back on it later (before next year's TTM, when I will surely DOMINATE it, for a change). As frustrating as this race was this year, I've found several nuggets of goodness: I had a "fairly straight" swim, I had negative splits/appropriately increasing intensity on the bike & run legs, I overcame the anxiety (or at least I didn't let it stop me), and I thoroughly enjoyed racing with so many friends and teammates.

My next race is in 4 weeks: the Tom Hoskins Memorial Triathlon. But in a crazy turn of events, I'm not doing the tri. I signed up for the duathlon! Since making this decision to try something new, I'm excited and motivated again. I really want to do well, and I really want to not be afraid of dying. How hard could it be?