Lake Stevens 70.3 Race to the Line Report

After REV3 Portland, I spent the week recovering and soaking in as much oxygen as I could in beautiful Washington State, where I stayed at my family's house. My recovery went well, I felt strong again right away and was able to even throw in a few sharpening runs and rides. With the race just 2 hours away from where I was staying, it was an easy drive the day prior. I had made it a priority to stay hydrated this time around, even if race day was forecast not to be as hot as the week before. I ate well and made sure my engine was ready to go. Once race day grew closer, the forecast for potential rain increased as well. Like REV3's bike course, this one was a toughie too. Lots and lots of hills to go up and down, spiced up with some sharp turns and blind corners.  After driving the course, I noticed that there were far less signs warning riders than there had been the week before in Portland. I tried to take a mental picture of every hairy turn...

Sure enough, we were greeted in transition with mist on race morning. Now, normally this would have been unsettling news, as I do not like riding my bike in the rain, especially not on tricky courses. However, this year's weather has been anything but typical at each and every race I have done, so why would this have been any different? Sure, last year was nice and the year before was hot, so why not throw in some cooler temps and rain this time around?! I had conquered a challenging bike course the week prior, so I had some recent memory to draw on for this one. I set up my lil transition area and put my gear inside a plastic bag *just in case* things decided to get nasty. After my confidence took a slight blow last weekend, I wasn't sure where I'd end up on this day. I knew the competition was there, especially with Rinny in the mix, and several other speedy runners. If I wanted to do well here, I knew I had to get it done without much of a hitch.

When the start gun went off I managed to stay on bubbles/ feet for about 10 seconds before my body seized up and I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. (yes I warmed up running and swimming, but apparently not enough?!) I went into survival mode and also discovered I could just follow the line at the bottom of the lake for direction of the buoys. Handy, since other swimmers were long gone, but unfortunate too because I apparently missed the pro meeting detail that swimming directly along the line would lead you directly into a buoy. This happened. More than once. After some additional sighting, I finally found a steady line, but was passed by three speedy age groupers on my way back to shore, not boosting my morale much. My thoughts began to wander and my mind went negative as to why yet again, I was out there swimming alone, giving up so much time to others, who I have managed to stay with in the past. With my labored breathing, I was surprised the kayakers didn't want to pull me out.

Finally I reached the beach, with just one more swimmer directly behind me, ran a very gravely path to my bike and knew then that the day would come down to a chase again. Just depended how badly I wanted it. Officially last out of T1, I finally made it on the bike course, and although my seat felt off, I managed to get off to a strong start and clip off a few riders along the way. The forest again grew deep and dark and I found myself wishing my bike had headlights so I could see better. Then the rain began. At first I thought I'd be able to pull off leaving my sunglasses on, even if just for eye protection. After about 5 min, they were stowed in my top, with my eyeballs now exposed to every rain drop. While most descents were OK to make out, there were a few sketchy ones that had me crossing my fingers and tapping my brakes like crazy, telling myself it would be OK! Which oddly made me think of this:

Safety was my number one concern, but not losing valuable time to others was my second. Each time I bombed down a blinding descent, I blinked really fast as to dry my eyes real quick before the next rain drop entered. This technique proved a little useless as it let me see even less. So half blind, I held my breath and pleaded with my bike to let me arrive safely in T2.

First time riding without eye protection.

I finally did, having no idea what place I was in, but knowing I did make quite a few passes out on that freezing, gloomy and wet bike loop. After trying my best to be quick and swift, knowing every second counts, I made my way back out into the cheering crowds, who immediately lifted my spirits up, even if I looked like a pig that had just taken a mud bath. That's when I heard Dave, the announcer, say something about what place I was in, but I could not quite make it out. I did however hear him say that I was a "good runner, and would I be able to run myself into another spot on this run?!" Was I in contention? Sometimes, after a tough race, this is exactly what you need to hear to get going again, and with that I (attempted) to throw the hammer down. Maybe a little too hard because as I reached the one mile marker, my mind was in a different place than race management, and I followed some random orange cones down a side street, completely off course, ahhhhh. This cost me some valuable seconds, as I would later learn.

The run course consisted of two loops with a long hill in the second half of each loop that had to be run up and down 2x. Otherwise, there were some shorter hills and some nice long downhill stretches and flats. I liked this course. The rain had now ceased (naturally) and the weather was perfect for running. I came up on Christine on my first loop and made the pass, not knowing if this would haunt me later. Upon coming up on Dave the announcer, again, in town, he said I was now in 4th. My spirits were lifted yet again and although the pain was setting in for having probably run the first loop too fast, my mind wanted this and I wasn't giving up chasing. I also had the threat of those fast speedy ladies behind me throwing in a surprise so I knew I wasn't off the hook at all. It wasn't until 2mi to go that I could see the back of Mackenzie, and like a slow motion dream, she wasn't getting any closer, it seemed. I tried to make up time on the downhills, but she seemed to have the same idea. People coming the other way told me I could catch her; if only it was that easy! Every inch of my body was in pain and seizing up. I was starting to fight that old foot cramp yet again, but tricked my mind into ignoring it, which ultimately helped me not to stop for it. With a quarter mile to go, I finally lost sight of her in all the foot traffic going on around us, and she would see the finish line 21sec before me. Here is a good photo of what I looked like seconds after crossing the line. 

OMG, that hurt like a track 10k...

Was I a tad disappointed I couldn't catch 3rd place? Sure I was. What if I hadn't taken that wrong turn? But I also knew that I gave it everything and for the first time in a long time, I actually had a race going! Knowing I went from last out of T1 to 4th with some great competition was a nice redemption from the week before, reaffirming my abilities and giving me a boost as I head into my last training block before IM Mont Tremblant in August. Thanks to all you fellow racers, volunteers, spectators, IM, and my sponsors (Powerbar, Rudy Project, TriggerPoint, RockTape) for making this one a memorable one. I might just be back for more next year!

REV3 Portland Recap

Sometimes races don't pan out the way you imagined, and for me, REV3 Portland was one of those races. I had certain goals in mind, which were definitely attainable, and the field was looking stacked, with many women around the same level of performance as myself. It would come down to who would have the better day. At the pro meeting we were told about the very technical bike course and to use extra caution on the bridges and turns. Being a cautious rider, I really appreciated the warnings and upon driving the course, found extra signage at the tricky corners, making navigation a bit less intense. I  was looking forward to the climbs, but not so much the descents of the ride. The run seemed mostly flat and the swim seemed the same for once, ha. (for those following my races this season, you might understand what is meant by flat swim)

Either way, I was really nervous the night before the race and barely slept at all. Race morning greeted us with sunshine and calm winds and a predicted high temp in the high 80s. I wasn't worried about the temps, since it's been scorching up to triple digits all summer in Boulder. It was a non- wetsuit swim for pros and a run in start. Now, I haven't been practicing my run in starts much (or ever) so naturally I was a bit timid. Mistake number one. I immediately lost most everyone around me and swam the entire course (which was a tad long as well) alone. How this is possible every time, is truly somewhat perplexing to me. There were plenty of women my speed, yet I managed to lead a small pack of three spread out behind me, around the entire course, feeling a little helpless in my swim abilities along the way.

I exited the water and ran -what seemed like a mile long transition on grass- to my bike, got bike stuff on and was out of there. The bike course is said to be the most challenging in the REV3 series, and right off the bat, there were some nice rollers to battle. I found my cycling legs shortly after the first climb and started picking up some other riders who were ahead of me. On courses like these, I think training at altitude and in the mountains really helps. Although I felt every climb, I recovered fast and was ready to tackle the next one. The well marked sketchy descents were actually no problem at all, having me laugh at myself for literally losing sleep over it the night before. Before I knew it , I had traversed the forest and the hills and was back on the flats on the way to transition, with the last 15mi or so flat. Here I got a good look at where my competition was and also made a costly error that would haunt me later. With the heat of the day about to start, and my bottles nearing empty, I reached over at the last available aid station and tried to grab some liquids but was unable to get anything. In hindsight I should have stopped and asked volunteers to rehand me something, but I kept going, because I was racing and the adrenaline was flowing.  With 10 or more miles to go and no more available fluid, I could feel my body ache for something to drink. After some positive self talk, I convinced myself that I would be fine and could drink lots on the run. I entered T2 in 8th or 9th place, well in the money and ready to run down some more people. Or so I thought.

The run started out over somewhat rolling terrain on a path in the shade. Although I felt thirsty, I felt strong. I knew fast runners were behind me, so I kept an eye on my pace, sure not to let anyone I could see in front of me, get away. Aid stations were every 1.5mi or so, and I took all I could at each one, without having to slow down too much or give up too much time. After the brief out and back in the shade, we now shared a shoulder on the highway with return run traffic, making things a little tight. This is also where the heat started to really pick up, as there was zero shade and temps seemed much higher than they were, with the humidity. After an ironic pee detour at the port potties, I had given up a spot, but was confident I could run back up to my previous place in the race. But then the wheels started to come off. Goose bumps, cramps in my feet, nausea. I was reduced to a walk, passed again, and my confidence in my race was dwindling. Although I was taking salt, the dehydration was too great and the few sips of water and coke weren't going to do the trick. After what seemed like a death march on the Queen K, I staggered into the finish, unable to hold off 10th place just a few seconds from the end, and ended up in 11th. I then gulped down 2 water bottles right away, something I have never seen myself do at the end of a race. Yea, Engine overheated. Should have stopped and returned to get the fluids at the last bike aid station.

Need more fluids...

I was a little disappointed, mostly because I can usually rely on my run, but on this day, my body wasn't cooperating. And looking back, I was most likely dehydrated before the race even started. I vowed not to let that happen again next time around, which would only be one short week later. As usual, REV3 did a great job putting together the race, racer banner and all (my favorite thing, ha) Thanks to Rudy Project for my extra bit of aero on the head, and for letting me see clear even in the deep, dark woods of Oregon, Powerbar  for once again fueling my ride and run in the form of Powerbar Gels and bars, TriggerPoint and RockTape as well.