Well, to say that I was nervous race morning is a bit of an understatement. A personal record for "bathroom visits" was secured, and I literally squeaked when my coach asked me how I was feeling in transition area. Off to a great start. Fortunately, everything seemed to be in working order with all my gear and I made my way to the swim start, pulling a double duty trot as a warm-up on the way over. I didn't get much of a swim warm-up, as they called us out of the water almost immediately after I submerged myself. This didn't overly concern me however, as I don't really have a consistent warm-up routine anyway. The "just wing it" approach is more what I'm used to. We waited on the beach for the Pro men to get in the water and start, and additional, obscure emotions started sneaking up as the seconds passed. Like, I almost started crying (wtf?!).
Fast forward to the race start, we were off and the lead group of ladies (so all of them) were out of sight in 5 seconds....ok. My initiation had begun, and it was going to be a long swim. I don't really know how to feel about my swim. There was current and some chop, but nothing crazy. I felt like I was slightly zigzagging but nothing debilitating. I realized very quickly that it's much easier to spot some splashing ahead of you than it is to spot a buoy several hundred yards away. I made it to the stairs at the swim exit after what seemed like forever, and I came out of the water in 8th out of 9 ladies. Reality check in full swing. Although I have to say, seeing that one extra bike still parked on the rack gave me a strange confidence boost. Hooray, I wasn't last.....yet.
So the bike and I were out of transition in no time. I didn't make it a quarter of a mile before I realized that my only water bottle (I race with one for this distance) was completely loose and in danger of being let-go. I had forgotten to tighten the velco strap in transition. Besides the fact that I sort of needed the contents in it, I would be penalized if I dropped it. So I stopped as quickly as possible to secure it and picked back up again with a nagging feeling that I was already letting this race get away from me. What a rookie mistake, I mean come on. Even so, I was determined to have a good bike split and pick my watts up just ever so slightly from what I had been racing at throughout my last few races. The bike course for this race is quite technical with several turns and speed bumps to maneuver around. As I hit my first turn, my front tire hit something and the next thing I know, I'm bear-hugging my aero bars at a 90 degree angle. I guess my hands slipped because they were still wet? Not entirely sure what happened there, but any spectators in the area would have seen the color completely drain from my face. Oh jeez, that could have been bad. After that, things smoothed out for the most part. Watts were where I wanted them, but I was all by myself. At some point, a few of the Open men caught up and started barking at me that I was "blocking" and most assuredly getting penalized for it at that very moment. Let me explain. The Pros have to abide by this weird stagger rule, where we not only have to stay out of the drafting zone directly behind a cyclist in front of you (the zone we all know and love), but you also have to stay several meters to the SIDE of said cyclist. As in, the next person ahead of you could be a mile up the road and if he/she is riding on the right, I have to move all the way to the left. If they move to the left, I have to zip over the right. So at the moment I was riding all the way to the left. This felt very weird, and I can't blame them for yelling at me, but apparently, they were also allowed to pass me on my right, unbeknownst to them I guess. This flustered me a great deal for a few seconds before I realized that an official had literally been tailing me the entire time, and if I had done something incorrectly, I would have been penalized and stopped for it. The rest of the bike was relatively uneventful, I was pleased with what my legs were giving me and succeeded in bumping up those watts a few ticks. The last few miles of the bike always bring mixed emotions for me. This means the race is nearing the end (yay! because I'm most likely starting to get tired now). However, it also means the run is coming......the dreadful, awful run.
I am not exaggerating when I say that I want to stop running and DNF before I hit the first mile marker.....every race. I am not a runner, this does not come naturally for me, it seriously sucks the entire time. And no surprise, this day it was no different. It is a constant battle to keep the negative, self-deprecating thoughts out of my mind over the 6.2 miles. This is the area I need the most work on, and I have definitely made substantial progress, but I'm still nowhere near the other ladies. I mean, not even close. And yet, no matter how crappy I feel, I always manage to make it the finish line in one piece without completely falling apart. So I know it's in me, it's just really, really, really hard....but hey, that's the game, right? I started off with a bang the first mile, complete with face plant in front of spectators, and tried to hang on as best I could. I always feel after every race, that this particular run was the hardest yet, and again, this race was no different. I'm hoping that the: "it doesn't get easier, you just get faster" mantra applies. Mile 6 felt like death and I made the mistake of lying down at the finish line, where I was immediately scooped up and carried to the medical tent. Admittedly, I was a tad woozy but fine within a minute or two and so glad to be done! Holy crap, I just raced with the Pros!! And I didn't completely embarrass myself!!! And I actually threw down a decent race!!! Let the happiness commence!
Now I have no idea what to do next, I have no other races on my calendar....help.
And yes, it is 1:30AM. Why am I awake right now?
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