Photos and Dropping Out

The photos were finally posted from the Patriot last weekend. For those of you who are too lazy to read the race report, here is the condensed visual version:

Me, Michelle, and some random woman who is NOT Big Red. This is absolutely, positively not Red, who I promised I would not post pictures of. The woman on the left is SOME OTHER LADY.

Finally it was time for my wave to start. I don't know if I'm in this picture, but let's imagine that this girl in the sleeveless wetsuit and black goggles is me. I have a sleeveless wetsuit and black goggles!

How very me. I'm not even out of the water and I'm checking my watch. I can never remember unzipping my wetsuit... I guess I do it as soon as I stand up.

I love this picture. You can totally see on my face that I can't believe the time that my watch says. It turns out that the course was about 500m short. I'm glad that the photographer got a picture of my double take!

Alright, ONWARDS! (I totally look like shit in this picture! I look about 20 years older than I am.)

Here we go!

This isn't me, but I found it in the lost & found and I love this picture! She totally stopped to pick her wedgie!

'Aaaah! So much better!' Well it looks like she's having fun.

Yes! This is the part we've all been waiting for!

I remember almost crashing into this guy. God knows why he decided to mount on the inside rather than the outside where there was much more room... He never passed me. Nobody did.
Nice helmet visor, buddy. Is this a mountain bike race?

And off we go!

I love the following sequence because you can see me coming at you, and see my whole pedalstroke. If you flip through it quickly, you can almost see me pedaling and breathing hard.




Finishing the first loop. I'm averaging 22.6 mph right here and thrilled! Can you see how happy I am? Nope, because I ALWAYS have that face on when I'm riding.

Note: Camera side knee bent, ALWAYS! I swear that my legs go all the way around!

Coming at you again! Get the hell out of my way, the Speedy Train is coming through!
What I love about the picture above and below is that if you look at the position of my left shoulder (right in the picture), you can tell how hard I'm heaving down on the pedals.

And then I won! (I was SO HOT in that jacket. It was about 85º and HUMID.) What's hilarious about this picture is that I'm standing a full step above the other chick (who I beat by about 17 minutes), and we're STILL the same height.

So there you go. It's almost like you were there watching the whole thing.

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In other news, I've decided to drop out of the Longsjo Classic 4-day stage race in Fitchburg next weekend. I signed up for this race months ago when I was planning on spending all my free time doing road races. But then I met this great girl and started spending all my free weekends with her. I'm not saying that I'm not in good cycling shape, I'm just not in good ROAD RACING shape.

What I'm learning is that road racing requires a whole different style of fitness from ultradistance riding and triathlon riding. The balls-to-the-wall accelerations followed by recovery require a completely different kind of training which I just haven't done. I'm much better at holding 85% effort for hours at a time than I am going back and forth from 40 to 100 and back. It seems like every time it comes time to ride in a pack and do road race-style rides, I come up with an excuse not to do it. I've done a lot of thinking about it, and it's not that I'm not comfortable riding in packs. I'm comfortable riding shoulder-to-shoulder, wheel-to-wheel with others. It's that I don't LIKE it. I don't like letting someone else dictate my pace, and I don't like being lead through potholes and over branches. I don't like going slow when my legs want to go fast, and I definitely don't like when they make me go faster than I feel like going.

Plus, two stages of this race are a crit and a circuit race. I'm comfortable riding in groups, but not at full speed around turns. No-sir-ee! I'm not comfortable with that at all. Today I sat down and had a conversation with the King of the Bike Geeks, who knows everything (or so he thinks) about riding a bicycle. He said that this was a really technical course on really shitty pavement with horrible visibility coming out of the turns. "You would just have nothing to gain by having this be one of your first real road races," he told me. This is a guy who thinks that everyone should jump into every kind of cycling that there is out there.

The final reason for me to scrap the race is that I have my 24-hour race the following weekend, and all I want is to save my poor legs for that. I know, I know. This is a strange time to change my M.O. of never resting, ever (not true, by the way), but this race is really important to me. Way more important than a road race with a bunch of road riders with seat posts up their butts.

So I've made an executive decision. I'm going to do the time trial the first day, and then I'm going to drop out. There will be a time to get into road racing, but this race is not the time or the place I want to be doing it. Maybe I'll find more time for it this fall when I'm not trying to squeeze 200-mile rides into the same week as balls-to-the-wall group road rides. Maybe I'll focus on it next year. Maybe never. Who knows.

Point and taunt all you want. I know I'm making the right decision, even if it is based 70% on fear and 30% because I won't be instantly successful at it. Road riding just doesn't lend itself as well to "participation" as "you against the course" sports like triathlon. So if you see someone riding all by herself around the potholes of New England, go ahead and yell names at me out your window, honk at me, throw Gatorade bottles at my head (it's all been done before). I'm confident that I'm making the right decision.

Exceeding Expectations

Last year the Patriot half ironman was a real breakthrough race for me. While I talked all about pee on my blog, that was my first real win of the year and the first time I really saw that I might be on to something on the bike. That was a great race for me, I wish they all could come together like that race did... well, maybe without the bit about pee in my shoes.

This year I only signed up for the Aquabike. All I could remember of last year's run was getting passed, and passed, and passed, and wanting to cry when I saw the uphill into the finish. Fuck that. So even though in the triathlon world, an aquabike seems to be a "respectable DNF," it was sure a hell of a lot better than running. I showed up at Big Red's house with reheated coffee at 4:25 am and we were on the road singing along to P!nk songs in her Little Purple Car by 4:30 in the morning. Check-in and marking went uneventfully. Michelle (who also makes me pee my pants) turned up minutes behind Red and me, and I spent the morning hopping back and forth from my rack to theirs, nervously drinking from a 2 gallon jug of water. I racked my bike, made for the porta-potties as usual, and set up my transition area. By "set up my transition area" I mean that I took my cycling shoes out of my bag and clipped my helmet to my handlebars. Aaaaah, only doing 1 event is great!

Well, okay... it was a bit more complicated than that. I also had to set up my drink bottles. If you remember from my last race, I had a bit of a problem with my aero bottle rubbing on my front wheel. I took the bottle over to show Michelle and Big Red the groove on the bottom. You could have rolled a marble down that groove. "Holy cow!" Michelle screamed, appropriately impressed. "You essentially rode that whole race with your brakes on!" So it is a matter of public record, the groove was deep, and I am a badass (Michelle, please back me up on this). I was nervous about that bottle. I must have fucked with it a dozen times trying to figure out a way to make it sit above the wheel, but since I still didn't have a way to hold it in place, there wasn't much I could do. ...Which lead to another question, how many bottles to carry on my frame? I had only planned to carry one, but if I had to dump the aero bottle then I would need to slow down for more bottle handoffs. But if I carried an extra bottle, that would be a LOT of extra weight on my bike. I wound up filling all the bottles and deciding that I'd dump one of the frame bottles if the aero bottle worked. It didn't, so now if any of you want to see the DEEP ASS GROOVE that my wheel made in the bottom of my bottle, you'll have to search in the weeds at the side of the road in Freetown, MA.

I've already peed in my wet suit twice... and I haven't been in water any deeper than my waist yet!

For some reason I was INCREDIBLY nervous for this race. Maybe it was because I had put really high expectations on myself. Maybe it was because I was thinking about the whole event all at once swim, bike, transitions, and all. Maybe it was the fact that I was in the last wave, and I had to wait half an hour after the first starters to actually get in the water. Maybe it was the 20 oz Starbucks coffee I'd had on the way over. Then I realized that I'd forgotten to put the sticker with my number on the front of my new sperm hat (aero helmet), and I got even more nervous. Do they DQ for that kind of thing? By the time Grease Monkey (who had driven down later) found me in the bull pen, I was so wound up that I thought I would explode.

The Swim
1,500 yards cleverly disguised as 1.2 miles

I was in the same wave as the relay swimmers and the fat people waves (sorry, I just don't believe in Clydesdales and Athenas), so I was kind of expecting all the relays to take off ahead of me, and all the fatties to fall behind me. That's what happened. I think. The swim can be so isolating, you can only see such a small space ahead of or behind you, that unless you're in a pack it can be so hard to tell how you're swimming. I was alone for the whole swim out to the far buoy.

I'd been really working on my swim, getting wet every chance I could since I got back from France, and my mojo finally seemed to be coming back. I wasn't swimming as well as I had been last winter, but well enough. As I was swimming, I could feel that I was having a good swim. I felt strong. The buoys were coming quickly. The far buoy came quickly. We had to swim around 1 cross-buoy before we could turn back to the beach, and after the turn was when I caught up with 2 guys from my wave: The Kicker and The Drafter. I easily got around The Drafter (over and over as The Kicker pulled him through), but I just couldn't seem to get by The Kicker. I got a mouthful. I got another mouthful. And another, this one went down. UGH! Not again! The water was a really, really nasty thick shade of red. I felt nauseous only until the next turn buoy, though, when I was finally able to get around The Kicker and swim into shore.

Most of the swim back was spent getting around the blue caps from the wave in front of me, and the odd orange cap from the wave in front of that. The swim was over so quickly! I could live with that. I don't dislike the swim, but it always makes me anxious and I'm always eager to get out of the water and get on my bike already. I looked down at my watch as I was coming out of the water: I was in the 22 minute range! That couldn't be right... Looking at my times and others' times, it seems likely that the swim was 1500 yards instead of 1.2 miles (about 500 yards short).

Official time: 23:16
Official pace: 1:06 per 100 yd (I'm going to the Olympics!)
Estimated real pace: 1:32 per 100 yd
Division (Aquabike) place: 8/27 (30%)
Estimated overall place: 75/307 (24%)
Improvement on last year: 9:33 (not really though)

T1

Transition should have been easy, but I was worried about that stupid sticker for my helmet. I rooted through my bag and found the envelope with my run number still in it, and there was the sticker for my helmet. I fiddled with it for what seemed like forever, and was probably only about 4 seconds. I couldn't get the paper off the adhesive on the back. I gave up. I went to put on my shoes. It felt like it took forever. It probably took about 10 seconds. Helmet on, garmin on, glasses on, let's get the hell out of here!

T1 time: 2:45

The Bike
58 miles of Get outta my way!

As soon as I'd started riding I checked my water bottle. It had slid down and was rubbing my wheel again. I tried to shift it higher in its cradle, but nothing I did would make it sit higher, so I just pulled it out and chucked it at the side of the road. I felt bad about littering, but felt that the Universe owed me this one after all the Gatorade bottles I've had chucked at my head by snotty teenagers. It was probably the best decision I've ever made in a race.

What I hate most about being in a late wave is that you have to fight your way through the whole, entire field. It felt like it took forever for my legs to come around, but I was still passing everybody. I practically lived on the left side of the road for the first loop yelling "LEFT! COMING UP ON YOUR LEFT! YOU HAVE A RIDER COMING UP ON YOUR LEFT!" over and over again. You should all know that even though I'm super cocky on my blog, I'm actually a pretty nice person out on the race course. I'll say "excuse me" and "please" and whenever possible I'll use full sentences to let people know that I'm coming. It seemed like every time I came into a turn, I was about to pass somebody. I would try to yell, "YOU'VE GOT A RIDER COMING IN BEHIND YOU, I'M GOING TO PASS YOU AS WE COME THROUGH THE TURN!!!" That way it seems like I'm being nice. Really, though, I'm just making sure that nobody does anything stupid like swerve, or get mad and sprint past me and get in my way. Plus, in a turn if they think they're going to be passed, they'll slow down even more. Hey, it makes my life easier!

On the back half of the first loop, the traffic was getting bad. There were cars backed up way down the road making it hard to pass, and I was in the thick of the pack at this point. At one point a pickup pinched me into the shoulder and almost drove me off the road and I had to brake hard. I was glad I'd done a lot of urban riding and had developed a sixth sense for when drivers are going to be stupid, so I wasn't in my aero bars at the time. I know it's hard for races to get permits to close off entire roads for a morning, but I wish that they would at least find a way to keep one lane closed so no one gets hurt.

As I was coming back towards transition to begin the second loop I checked my average speed for the first time. For the past 29 miles I'd been averaging 22.4 mph! The next time I looked down it had come up to 22.5! I was so excited. I had set a best-case-scenario goal pace of 22 mph and here I was going half a mile per hour faster and feeling great! I felt like I could negative split this thing.

On the second loop I had already fought my way through much of the pack, and the farther I rode, the clearer the road got. Thank goodness! Before long I spotted Michelle up the road! She had left 20 minutes ahead of me, and I hadn't expected to catch her at all, let alone so early in the bike. Then again, I was having the ride of my life. I yelled something encouraging to her as I passed, and then I said, "I'm averaging 22.6 mph!" I just had to share my excitement with someone. That .6 at the end only lasted for a few more minutes, though as I irrevocably dropped back down to 22.5.

The course is flat, but there are some rollers that can take you up 60–100 feet before they're done with you. On the second loop they broke up my momentum a little bit and took the wind out of my sails as I began to give some of my speed back. I could feel my legs were getting tired. I tried to eat and drink whenever possible, but I was having trouble finding times when the road was smooth enough and my breathing easy enough to take my hands off my bars and reach for a bottle or food, and then swallow it. Still, nobody passed me. There were maybe two or three guys who thought they could pass me, and pulled ahead of me once or twice but I passed them all and they stayed passed. To be fair, all the real guns had gotten a head start on me and never got the chance to pass me, but it was still fun. I didn't come up on Big Red until well after I found Michelle, which surprised me because she was having knee problems and had a terrible cold. But if there's anyone who can step up to the plate, it's Big Red. I tried to yell something encouraging to her as I rode by, but I forget what I said. Whatever it was, she made fun of me afterward, saying that I was even a ballbuster when I was trying to be supportive.

Finally I reached the final loop around the lake for the second time. I had given up a lot of speed on the second lap. While I'd averaged 22.5 on the first lap, I only averaged 22 on the second lap, for an average speed of 22.3 by the end. I know that I shouldn't be disappointed with that 22 mph for the second loop, seeing as it was my best-case-scenario goal to start with, but it still irked me. Why had I slowed down so much? I crossed the 56-mile mark in 2:30:37, but still had 2 miles to go to the finish. Three minutes and sixteen seconds later, I was dismounting my bike (Garmin says the course was only 57.14 miles).

Unofficial bike time: 2:33:53
Unofficial average speed: 22.3 mph
Average heartrate: 173 Max heartrate: 193
Gender bike rank (all women, all divisions): second

Improvement on last year: 12:04, 1.4 mph

The Run
Now that's my kind of triathlon!

I racked my bike on the Aquabike rack that they had set up and started sprinting towards the finish line. I had already taken off my bike shoes, so I ran the .12 miles through the finishing chute barefoot in my ass hat/aero helmet. Grease Monkey was screaming for me the whole way, and something happened that has never happened before...
... I finished the race smiling!

Official bike time: 2:35:29
Official bike speed: 22.4 mph
Unofficial run pace: 7:19 min/mi (haha! Wouldn't it be great if I could have held THAT for another 13 miles!)
Total time: 3:01:28
Women's Aquabike finish: 1st place
Overall Aquabike finish: 4th place
Overall Women's Swim/T1/Bike rank: 2nd
Improvement on last year's swim/bike time: 19:07
Gap on the next Aquabike woman: 22+ min.
How much I beat Bobby's Swim/Bike time by: 14:27 (another one off the list!)

The Aftermath

Immediately my ass cramped up. After a short visit to the PT booth to get stretched, Grease Monkey and I cheered Michelle through T2 before going to catch Bobby finish in a PR time of 4:55, and then we got to see Michelle finish her first half ironman, and finally Big Red come through, finishing strong on a busted knee.

As I was picking up my stuff from transition a chick I'd never seen before in my life said, "Are you Claire?" Oh god! I've pissed somebody off again! was my first thought.
"Yeeeeees..." I said, warily. I was ready to run once she started swinging. She looked sweet enough though. I wondered if I could take her in a fight?
"I read your blog!" Now I was really ready to run away once she started swinging! But she didn't take a single shot, amazingly. I was so flattered! I felt famous to have lurkers that recognized me (and didn't want to kill me). Thanks, PJ, you made me feel famous! And everyone should wish PJ luck in the Rhode Island 70.3 in 2 weeks.

Finally I got to shove food into my face and wait for the awards ceremony. At the picnic table, a woman struck up a conversation with me. I didn't know it till later, but she was the 45-49 winner. "I think I passed you on the course," she said. "Were you wearing a red, white, and blue helmet?"
"No, it was black and red."
"No, really, I think it was you. What color was your helmet? Does it have some grey in it?"
I couldn't resist. "It couldn't have been me," I said, trying not to let my attitude show through. "Nobody passed me."
"But..."
"Nobody."

They announced my name, gave me my award, and then went on to announce that they were giving premes for the fastest swim, bike, and run times. Even though they excluded elites, aquabikes, and relays, I still wanted to hear what the fastest women's bike time was. "2:43:24?! I rode faster than that!" I whined.
Michelle smacked me in the sunburn on my shoulder. "Yeah, but you didn't have to run," she said.
"Still, I beat it by 8 minutes," I sulked. "I could have WALKED a half marathon after I rode..." Actually, it wouldn't have mattered, because the woman who won overall still rode about 5 minutes into me. Now that really IS fast!

Breaking It Down

I've been trying to figure out what I did right this year to have such a better race than last year. I think it's due to a few things (in no particular order):

1. My phyxie: I've put hundreds of miles onto my fixed gear this year, which has not only smoothed out my pedal stroke, but more importantly it has taught me to climb little hills in a WAY bigger gear than I normally might. So now when a short little roller comes up, I can stay in a much higher gear and keep up my speed over the top of it.
2. Suffering! I've been working since last fall to learn how to suffer. This time last year I was still racing where I felt comfortable, never going balls to the wall and always saving something for later. Now I've gotten a lot of practice at feeling uncomfortable, and I'm comfortable there. That whole ride I was sucking wind and at the point where if I pushed any harder, I would have dug myself into a hole that I couldn't easily get out of. Maybe in physiological terms I've raised my lactate threshold. All I know is that I can hurt a lot more now without actually hurting.
3. Yeah, I'm sure the mountains helped.
4. Riding more, not running: Last year I'd put in about 20 fewer hours by race day than I have this year, even though the race was 3 weeks later last year. Also, since I'm not wasting my time running, my legs are much fitter for my rides, and I have more free time to ride more.
   
5. Running: Alright, alright, I'll admit it. That block I did last winter where I ran my ass off did put me in phenomenal aerobic shape. I noticed that I was putting up the same times on the road this year AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEASON (when I wasn't in shape) than I was last year when I was in shape. So yeah, the running helped.
   

Aquabike: The pros (and the cons)

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