How I Spent 6 hrs of My Life

So I'm finally sitting down to relive and record what happened at the Mooseman Half Ironman two weeks ago.

Day before
Kate and I rented a car and drove up to Bristol, NH which took a little more than 5 hrs. At this point I'd already been checking the weather forecast religiously for a week, hoping that with each new glance the chance of thunderstorms and rain would disappear. After getting burned by the weather at my last race, I was freaking out. Seven months of training only to be shot down by mother nature!

I tried to calm myself by talking through everything with Kate during the car ride. I must be the luckiest person alive to have a partner who will humor my rants for 5+ hrs without once hinting at boredom or exasperation. Eventually I decided that I'd gotten a lot out of those seven months of training, race or no race. I also decided that being nervous was only going to intensify the one preventable problem that could possibly keep me from finishing -- my gut. So I spent the rest of the day up till bed time repeating a mantra of "it's just for fun".

Kate's cousin and girlfriend met up with us later that evening and we pitched our respective tents in a giant field of triathletes -- bikes and gear strewn about. We chatted and laughed till about 9:30 when I decided I should get ready for bed, only to find we were the only ones in the campsite still awake!! It also downpoured that night, cooling the air a good 10 to 20 degrees. It turns out, that was the only serious rain we'd encounter till the ride home.

Prerace morning
I awoke at 4:30 a.m. to a din of alarms going off all over the camp, one after the other. First on the agenda was stuffing calories into my uncooperative stomach. I love food and I did not want to eat a single thing. I downed a couple of Ensures and took forever to eat a bagel with almond butter and a banana as Kate braided my hair. We packed up camp and headed over to the race. I'd racked my bike the previous night and covered it in garbage bags to keep it relatively dry. After laying out my gear and pacing the transition area to make sure I knew how to find my stuff from every possible direction - swim entrance, bike exit, bike entrance, run exit - I grabbed my wetsuit and Body Glide, made my fifteenth visit to the restroom and headed to the beach.

I'd dipped my toes in the lake the day before and thought, "this isn't that bad!" I was thinking the same thing this morning as I eased into the water till I was in up to my shoulders and the water really started to seep into my suit. Suddenly the full sensation hit me -- "Fuck! This is cold!!" I took probably no more than five strokes before climbing out and finding my fans on the beach to console me.

The swim (1.2 miles, 29:01)
I was in the last wave of the day (5 of 5) consisting of women under 35 and relay teams. The only men around were, therefore, part of a relay and only doing the swim. I wanted to thump them all in the head.

I made me way to the center front. I always try to put myself in the front because, in all frankness, triathletes are crappy swimmers and I am not. I'm not being conceited here -- as will be seen when I get to the bike -- just a realist. I prefer not to get kicked or punched and because I'm fast enough, the best way to avoid it is to put myself at the very front and stay up there. I suppose in a way I've avoided a triathlon right of passage (getting beat up on the swim) by being fast, but I'm totally okay with that!

The water stopped feeling cold within a few minutes and I settled into what felt like a very easy, comfortable pace. The water was amazingly clear and fresh. A major change from all my Hudson River swims of late. By the time I reached the beach, I'd swum through loads of athletes in earlier waves and felt awesome. I flashed my fans a big smile and a thumbs up as I ran up the beach to transition. First leg done - check!

Transition One (3:52, total: 32:53)
I've never used a wetsuit stripper before but I couldn't resist taking advantage. I unzipped my suit and stripped it down to my waist, flopped onto a mat of turf, stuck my legs up in the air and two preteen boys grabbed the sides of my suit and, flip!, it was off. Okay, that was cool!

I made my way to the bike to see the usual scene -- most of the bikes were still racked, meaning their owners were still in the water. I took some time to wipe my feet, put on socks and shoes, buckle my helmet, put on gloves and stuff three packs of Cliff Shots in my shirt pocket. I grabbed Rocinante and we were off!

Bike (56 miles, 3:20:18, total: 3:53:11)
Miles 1-10: I feel flippin' great. Forgot my shades in transition, but that's okay. It's overcast, kind of lightly spritzing and I notice the hardcore types aren't wearing any either (as they fly by me). In the first couple of miles you can see the lake and there's still lots of folks out there. I feel strong and happy. I'm having fun and I start to eat my Cliff Blocks and drink my water. I pass the first aid station and don't take anything yet. At the bottom of the steepest climb on the course a devil dances to tunes as she screams "To the top!" and I laugh.

Miles 11-25: Life is bad. Life is awful. My stomach wants to reject everything in it and I can't stop thinking about how long this bike ride is. I dropped my water bottle along the way and I've been picking up a new bottle at every aid station. I'm forcing myself to eat the Cliff Blocks but I really don't want them. Everyone is passing me and I fear I'm not going to finish this race. I don't know it at the time, but this is to be my lowest point of the day.

Miles 26-35: Thank the heavens I kept eating! I'm no longer nauseated, I've finished one of the two loops and life is sooooo much better. I know that while I've been passed a lot, there's no one on the run course before I've finished my first loop so I'm definitely still in a respectable place. I'm drinking and eating as I should be.

Miles 36-56: My back hurts. I have to pee. This ride feels interminable. While my stomach is under control, I'm tired and feeling a little dejected. I'm averaging below what I thought I could do. I'm like one of ten people on this course without aero bars. The ride is beautiful so I try to think about that and eventually I get to an aid station where I can run into the port a potty and relieve my aching bladder. Scattered fans yell "you look great!" and do the wave. I love them all. And then I see the finish and I'm so overcome with joy I start to cry.

Transition Two (3:51, total: 3:57:02)
I choke back a few big fat sobs and get myself under control. I notice that this time, most of the bikes are racked, meaning a lot of people passed me on the bike course. No matter, it's done! I start to jog for the exit wondering how this is going to feel after I was so wiped out by the bike. It feels so great to be upright and on my feet that I almost start crying again! I make a pit stop at the port a potty and I'm on my way!

Run(13.1 miles, 1:58:50, total: 5:55:50)
The run course is two loops. Kate's cousin runs much of the first loop with me (apparently against the rules, but something we don't find out till about mile 5 and counter to the answer she'd received when she asked race organizers whether she could do it). It feels like I'm on auto pilot. I'd resolved to do the first loop at whatever pace felt comfortable and walk through every aid station (one about every mile) to drink a glass of water at each. To my surprise, that pace is about a 9 minute mile.

The second loop is a bit more deserted than the first, but I'm passing people and almost never getting passed. This is not an experience I'm familiar with and it keeps me pumped up as I start to feel exhausted. With three miles left I decide not to drink any more water or walk. I can finish this thing in under 6 hrs after all!

And then just like that, I'm across the finish line and it's all over.

1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of biking and 13.1 miles of running later, I'm half iron and all pride.