Tune Up Tri

The Tune Up Tri was both a terrific and frustrating experience, but mostly it was just terrific.

It was Blair’s first official tri, and she destroyed that race and all of her competition in one fell swoop. Blair isn’t my daughter (I’ll claim her anyway), but I like to think of her as a member of my family. I started training with her for the first time last spring when IMCHOO training was starting to get gnarly. She was between jobs so she was able to train with Roslynn (her real life mom) and me a bunch. She had never ridden with clips, she hadn’t been swimming a ton in years, and she “hated” running. Within the first couple of weeks, she was effortlessly keeping up with Ros and me in the pool – and in the summer, we were swimming, long, long, long distances. She bravely confronted open water swims in the less-than-welcoming arms of the James River. She did the best she could on Roslynn’s old road bike that is a bit too small for her, and got herself comfortable with her new pedals. Watching her go from a hesitant newbie rider to someone who is all guts and gusto has been one of the best parts of tri life. Her dislike of running has been replaced by something else – a game of chicken, maybe, where she is constantly pushing her boundaries and seeing what she can do, and celebrating every victory. I haven’t asked her lately, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t say she hates running anymore. She’s a strong, consistent, dedicated runner, just like she is strong and dedicated in everything else. All of her hard work and belief in herself paid off big time in Manassas.

Roslynn got up super early Saturday morning to knock out her brick while Blair and I didn’t 🙂 We were tapering, you know? For a Super Sprint . . .

The Tune Up Tri is a reverse super sprint, ending in the pool so you don’t freeze to death in those balmy March temps. It’s a 1.5 mile run, a 4 mile bike and a 250 swim. The distances turned out to be, well, a little off, but you get the general idea.

After Roslynn was done with her brick, we met at her house and headed out together with Blair. Blair’s dad Bill came up separately on his motorcycle later that day. We got our race packets, drove the bike course like good and dutiful athletes, made sure we understood the run course, looked at the transition area, and did a shake out ride in some of the windiest weather I’ve ever ridden in. That was actually terrifying, and Blair and I just kept silently praying the wind would die down.

Blair had done a ton of pre-race strategy and planning, and she’d hunted down some competitive intel on the other women in her age groups. She did the same for me, and I realized that I might have a chance to place if I worked hard on my run time. I’ve been getting a bit faster thanks to dropping 20 lbs as well as a lot of negative associations with running, and I was feeling confident that I could go in and run a sub 11 minute mile (my goals are low) for the 1.5 miles. Blair planned out her race, we practiced some transitions, ate some amazing Greek food in old town Manassas (highly recommend), headed back to the hotel, and tried to sleep.

For those of you who race solidly in the middle of the pack like I do, it’s a weird and not entirely pleasant feeling to have the pressure of knowing if you try really hard, you might actually place. I’m so used to not having a snowball’s chance in hell of placing that I generally relax and enjoy race day. I’m not saying I stroll through race day – I give it my best – but I don’t feel a huge amount of pressure because there’s just little to no chance I’ll ever place. It’s actually quite a relief, but until I experienced this kind of pressure, I didn’t know how good I had it!  I decided I was going to do my absolute best – after all, the distance was short enough – and channel my inner Derek and Blow Up or Throw Up.

Race morning dawned cold and clear after little sleep as usual. Someone was partying all night in the room next to Blair’s and mine, so that was super fun. We packed up the bike, ate some breakfast, and began to nervously pace around the Aquatic Center.

Blair’s been to many triathlons, including some Ironman events, so I think she was surprised at how laid back the race environment was. I like small, locally-run events, and I also don’t like them. I like the inclusiveness and diversity of locally produced events, but I don’t like the lack of security or safety on the course. I’ve done the Tune Up Tri before so I knew what to expect, but it’s always a surprise to see the differences between race companies (for better or worse.) I’m used to some semblance of security in the bike area – at this race, anyone could have walked off with anyone else’s bike no problem. Thankfully, no one did. A bunch of volunteers didn’t show up on race day, so people were doing double and triple duty, and that was problematic at points.

Roslynn was volunteering at the finish line and Bill was volunteering as a course marshall (we got to see him a bunch between the run and bike, so that was a bonus!). They went out to their respective areas and Blair and I braved the freezing cold 30 degree temps to stand at the starting line, which actually wasn’t marked, so it was a lot of people just standing around hoping we were in the right place. The race went off in waves, supposedly by age group (but it sure didn’t look like that in actuality.) I was in the age group right in front of Blair, so I had a three minute head start. Right before we started, I talked to a girl who looked really nervous. She had headphones in, so I told her nicely that USAT rules don’t allow them and I didn’t want her to get penalized. We ended up running together the first half mile. She was really nice and started my race off on a positive note.

The “gun” went off and we took off. My plan was to run a 10:30 mile pace which I felt like I could hold for the entire 1.5 miles. As we rounded the first quarter mile, I looked down at my watch and saw that I was running a 10:15 pace and it felt easy, so I said goodbye to my friend who was recovering from an injury and struggling a bit. I knew I needed to push my limits as much as I could. I dropped to a 9:45 pace for the next 3/4 mile. Although it took everything I had to hold the pace, I knew I could do it and I felt like I still had some gas in the tank for the last half mile. When I hit the 1 mile mark, I dropped to a 9:15 pace and told everything in my brain to shut up and just fought through it. Unfortunately, I looked at my watch, relieved to see it said 1.47 miles – except I couldn’t even see the transition area and the run was supposed to be over in .03. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, but I had paced myself perfectly and at that point, i didn’t feel like I had enough left in my legs to get me any further. I decided that puking was a better alternative than slowing my pace, so I just buckled down and pushed on. I saw the transition area and cursed the race director and thanked god my legs were still moving.

Run: 1.66 miles, 16:08 minutes, 9:42 avg pace

I was trying not to let my lungs explode in the transition area, so I staggered to my bike. As I finished putting my bike stuff on, Blair rolled in. She grunted at me and tried to smile but she had also thrown down the gauntlet and was feeling the pain after that run. I think I grunted back at her and then I was off on the bike with Blair close on my heels.

T1: 1:31 (was really hoping for something closer to a minute considering, but my hands were so cold they weren’t working)

I headed out on the bike course. It’s an ugly course, lots and lots of turns. I think the longest stretch of straight road you get is .25 miles. Everything else is a u turn or a right turn in an industrial park. It’s nearly impossible to get your speed up, though I did my damndest to do so. Every time I let off the gas, I told myself to go harder – it’s a short race, I wasn’t going to die, there was no reason to save anything. I was pleased to notice that I was not getting passed on the bike, by anyone, male or female, but I was passing plenty of men. I always shouted “Good job” or “Looking good”. Most of them appreciated it. A few did not; there are some men who feel like you’ve castrated them if you pass them on the bike. It’s stupid.

I looked down at my bike computer and I was over 4 miles and still couldn’t see the entrance to T2. Uhhhh . . . another distance off. But I knew I had to be close and my favorite part was coming up!

Bike: 4.50 miles, 15:28 minutes, 17.5 mph average pace

My bike computer had me around 4.31, my Garmin had me about 4.34 but later on, the race director said the course actually measured 4.5. She was aware the distances were off, but for some reason, didn’t correct them prior to the race.

T2 was a disaster. I thought about not wearing a swim cap, but I was afraid my goggles would slip down, so I took the time to put it on. However, my hands still weren’t working, I kept slapping myself in the face with my cap, and I was stuck in my jacket. Everything took way longer than I planned.

T2: 1:30

On to the swim – a 250 yard snake swim. The transition mat to the swim area was at the entrance door to the pool, but then you had to walk the entire length of the building to get to the lane where you started. Thankfully no one was in my way when I got to the entry point (though I did get yelled at my a lifeguard to WALK!). I got myself in the pool as fast as I could and started pushing. The long walk from transition to the swim start throws off your pace per 100 time, too, which drives my OCD brain crazy.

I always say I wish the swim was last, but the two times I’ve done a swim last, I remember why it’s first in the trio. Swim at the end of a tri feels like a recipe for drowning. Everything was cold, tired, achy and screaming for a break. In my usual longer distance tris, it’s a slow burn. This thing was like I had been lit on fire and sent screaming into the wilderness. It was THAT level of effort, so once I got into the pool, I thought I was going to sink to the bottom.

About 100 yards in I encountered a man leisurely breaststroking. My normal non-competitive nature would back off and let him get to the wall before passing him, but this time I decided getting kicked in the face was better than giving up even 10 seconds of this race. (I know breaststroking is legal, but I hate when people do it, especially when others are around. It takes up space and is a perfect recipe for someone getting kicked. If you need to breaststroke to make it through a 250 swim, you need to swim more and build your strength. End soapbox rant.)

I felt like I was swimming through mud but I had mostly clear lanes, passed a few people at the wall and before I knew it I saw the ladder out. I threw myself out like a dead fish, gasping for air and doing my usual Dizzy Dance trying to walk after swimming. I staggered across the finished line where Roslynn handed me my finishers medal that wasn’t a medal – a key chain. Right after that, Blair crossed the line, and it was so great to see her getting her medal and a hug from her mom!

Swim: 5:33, 1:59/100

Total time: 40:09

After high fiving Blair, we headed to the locker rooms to change and get somewhat drier. She was feeling pretty confident that she had at least placed second. I had literally no idea where I was. I was so focused on just going hard that I didn’t notice anyone around me, other than a nice person wearing a Team Zoot kit who definitely beat me and was definitely in my age group. By the time we got out of the locker room, the results had been posted. I felt sick to my stomach, so Blair went up without me to survey them.

This was probably the only time I’ve done a race where I literally could not have gone any harder on any of the legs. I was spent and had nothing left at the end of the race. My transitions could have been improved, but I felt very happy in the knowledge that I had gone as hard as possible and whatever the results were, they were good enough for me.

She came back grinning and whispered that she thought she’d placed first in her age group. I started crying – I was so happy for her! Then she told me she thought I’d placed second in mine, which was unbelievable to me.

We waiting what seemed like forever for awards, and bitched to each other about the distances being off. I always expect a little difference between Garmin and what the race director has but this seemed like a lot for such a short race. From a pride standpoint, seeing official results listing my average pace as over a 10 minute mile when I knew that I had done well below that, stung a bit. Yeah, I know, no one cares, but I wanted it in writing that I had pulled off my pace.

The first place overall female was actually the first place overall winner. I was at first excited to see that, but then as Blair and I talked, we realized that she beat the first place male by over 3 minutes. I’m all about girl power, but her bike speed would have had to have been somewhere in the 24 mph range. If you’d seen the bike course, you’d know something was off.

She collected her medal and promptly ran out of the building. She was pretty unfriendly and decked out in Ironman gear. I mention this only because she was an experienced athlete, and anyone who trains for something like an Ironman knows what their normal race paces are like. If I suddenly pulled off a 24 mph bike split when every other bike split had been 17, well, something is wrong or off. It is my belief that she knew something had happened, but rather than self-report at that time or ask them to look into it, she took her medal and checked out.

The first place person in my AG was Team Zoot lady, and the third place person didn’t stick around, so the two of us stood up front and I had my moment of glory. Blair got to claim her first place win and it was an awesome moment to be part of.

After all was said and done, Ironman Lady disqualified herself, probably when she realized it was going to happen anyway. She did it sometime the next day. She said she missed a turn on her bike, and while maybe that was the case, an experienced athlete would have known the distance was off right away. She was wearing an expensive Garmin. She knew. I was pretty pissed because she took podium moments away from others who rightfully earned them, including Team Zoot who actually placed third overall female. When she got bumped up, I was also bumped up into first place in my age group. This was exciting for a bunch of reasons, including qualifying for USAT AG Nationals in August! I haven’t decided if I’m going yet, but I’m leaning toward it.

I’ve spent some time thinking about everything that happened. I ran with my friend Clair, a multiple Ironman finished herself and an all around great person. I told her I was having major imposter syndrome and finding every reason I could to make my win feel not special, and how stupid that was. Tons of people qualify for AG Nationals in small local races, and I would never think less of them for it. Yet when I do it, and I did have 7 women in my AG that I beat fair and square – somehow it seems stupid and meaningless and I shouldn’t be at Nationals anyway.

At the end of the day, I am so proud of my effort, and no one can take that away from me. Would I have qualified at a 70.3 event run by Ironman? Hell, no, but … I did come in first in my AG and it was one of the best moments of my life, realizing that. I’ve spent 47 years not winning at anything, not being athletic, not feeling powerful or strong. Over the past three years, all of that has started to change. Okay, maybe not the winning part – I still don’t win – but I feel strong a lot more, and all of the work I’ve done physically has translated mentally to make me a stronger and more confident person. I’ll always love triathlon for that gift!

I am so excited to race Ironman Virginia 70.3 with Blair and Roslynn as a relay team. Blair will have the Ironman finish line experience, and I know we are all going to do our best that day. Then I get to see her hopefully go to Nationals, and follow that up with her A race – Barrelman 70.3.  It’s going to be a great year!