Five o’clock AM. Race
morning was finally here. I had wondered
many times over the past 10 months how I’d feel at this moment. I woke up an hour before my alarm went off
and lay in the warm bed those last few moments as if it was the calm before the
storm. Not that I needed to, but one
more time I played out every segment of the race in my mind, mentally
practicing my plan and visualizing strength, confidence and determination. I didn’t come here for an experience, or to
enjoy the ride. I didn’t come here to
complete the event or to be a number down the list of finishers. If anything is worth dreaming about, it’s
worth dreaming BIG about so I came here hoping to have the race of my life
against the best in the world. Having
had no previous world championship experience, I was left with a lot of
unknowns, including the unknown of what my competition was capable of. The only thing I could really control or know was
what I was capable of. The thing is …
that was really an unknown too.
With all that had been raging through my minds in the weeks
leading up, along with my high expectations, one would think that race morning
would be a near melt-down experience.
Quite to the contrary and much to my relief, instead it was a wash of
peace, quiet, calm, contemplation and I arose to begin my pre-race morning
routine. It took only 20 minutes to get
all ready and I did my best to stuff down my peanut butter and jelly
sandwich. I wasn’t hungry, at least not
for food but today my impulse to eat was not to be dictated by hunger.
With only my “morning bag” clothing, bike nutrition and swim
equipment in tow, we walked the few short blocks to the transition area. My bike and bike/run gear bags had been
checked in the day before and my only transition area tasks this morning were
to place my hydration and nutrition bottles onto my bike and pump the
tires. This went smoothly and I was
thankfully able to borrow a bike pump to save me the added stress of lining up
for the bike tech folks to pump them up. I was in and out of the area in just a
few minutes and
rejoined John on the beach to watch the sunrise. It was now 5:45 AM and my wave, second to
last of the day, didn’t go off until 8:10 AM.
In all the calmness that surrounded me, I watched day break over a calm
ocean. Yesterday the ocean was anything
but calm. The northerly winds drove the
surf, causing chop and swells. The days
leading up were stormy and unpredictable.
But today was calm. It was in fact the pattern of the last 10
months, stormy, choppy, unpredictable, but now pristine and ready. Now, before the storm was to
begin, I had time to reflect on everything and everyone that went into this
moment.
 |
| Sunrise Race Morning |
Ten months earlier I earned a slot to this World
Championship via my participation in the IM 70.3 Arizona. I entered that race injured and had quite a
difficult time completing the run. But
the effort was enough to earn the slot and I looked at John with “puppy-dog
eyes” – Please? If I earn it can we do
it? Can we go to Australia? “Puppy-dog eyes” were not necessary. As is always the case, John is 100% in
favor of any challenge I bring to him.
Once I accepted the slot and entered the race, my next need
was to find help to get me ready. I knew
a little bit but I needed someone who knew a lot and was willing to invest the
time, and as it turned out, also willing to deal with the headache I’d give
him. Fred Maggiore answered the
call. He spent a lot of timing laying
out the plan, doing his best to explain it to me and preclude any rough spots
by letting me know I won’t always agree or like the plan. I had only ever approached training as a
runner and there was going to be some sacrificing of my strength in order to
strengthen my weaknesses.
Over the next 10 months, I began by recovering fully from my
injury and working on a nice solid base.
In January the triathlon specific training began. I would like to say that it was all bliss and
I loved every minute of it. But of
course that is not the case. I struggled
immediately with the decrease in volume of running and felt that anything I did
other than running was just not giving me the strength I needed. Fred patiently reminded me there is a big
picture here that he has in mind and I may not see it or understand it. Trust, he told me, trust. I allowed the weeks of training to settle
in still thinking I needed more, could handle more, wanted more but all the
while my body was slowly transforming never the less.
Change is subtle and often undetectable until hind’s sight steps in. Eventually my big workouts got bigger and my
moderate workouts got more focused. I
finally began to get the volume I thought I needed but it was all in good time.
Had Fred put too much on me too early I would have ended up injured or worse. He knew what I needed and when to apply it. I
completed basically two full four month training cycles. One that lead up to my preparatory “B” race,
IM 70.3 St. George, and the next one leading up to TODAY.
I asked, and Fred agreed, to keep the big brick workouts run
heavy as I knew that was when the suffering often takes place. I wanted the fitness but even more, I wanted
the mental toughness. By the time we
neared the taper, my big bricks included at least 12 mile runs off the bike at
sub-7 minute pace. Every one of them
(except one) went exactly to plan and provided me fitness, confidence and a
chance to test out my nutritional needs.
By taper time I was so done with the heavy training load. I was in a perpetual fatigued state (meaning never
fully rested going into workouts but not meaning over-trained) and I knew the
taper would now be the key.
During the three weeks of taper, my energy increased and
with that came way too much time to think and to get nervous. I can’t imagine I was very fun to live with
over the last month but John remained so patient. I was constantly thinking and was distracted
from daily life and my emotions were unstable.
It was during this time that the final pieces were worked on. I read through the Athlete’s guide and met
with Fred to strategize about the transitions (which were not like any I’d
experienced before). I made my final plan for nutrition which consisted of a
front load aero-bottle of electrolyte infused water with another spare on board
and one bottle containing 4 scoops of UCAN which made a thick liquid but
contained the energy sustaining carbs I needed all in one bottle. I would also eat two bananas, starting with a
half a banana with me and the rest to be grabbed at aid stations. I also would carry a gel flask with more UCAN during the run and one gel to use if I ended up really needing it in the end. I also knew when I was going to take all of
this in.
So as I sat on the beach race morning, now waiting for the
Pro’s and other waves to begin, I knew I was ready. I had nothing to think about any more. It had all been thought through, at least
everything that could be predicted. I
was soon to be reminded that you can plan for everything except what you don’t
know will happen. You can scope every
detail out but no one really knows how it will go on the day.
I watched the nervous waves of athletes go off one by
one. There were over 3,000
competing. As my wave neared I began
some preparations. I gently jogged on
the beach and felt the wind was already picking up. I got into my wetsuit, cap and goggles and
did a light swim. The water was warm and
felt good but had already begun to get a bit more agitated. I couldn’t really afford to spend any time
worrying about how going off in a late wave typically meant harsher conditions
out on the course. Winds pick up,
temperatures get more extreme. Before my
thoughts went there I reminded myself all the women in my age group would face
the same challenges.
Race time. I said
goodbye to John and entered the staging box then soon we were released to swim
out to the deep water starting line. My mind
thought of nothing but the swim. Mark
Allen was our official race starter and he sounded the horn and off we
went. There were 122 women in my age
group and wave and as we began to swim in a tight mass I was already awakened
to the fact that many of these women were unfriendly foes in the water. I had women pawing and grabbing my feet just
meters into the swim. We were all packed close together and I wondered where
they thought they were going by trying to swim over me. It felt like forever before we finally began
to thin out and I popped my head up to see how far ahead the leading green caps
were. There grew a gap between me and
that first pack and before long I got the sense that I must be in last place. Somehow the ocean can feel so lonely and you
can’t really tell where everyone else is. I knew I’d be way down the line in
the swim but I sure hoped I was faster than some. Then came the wave that started behind us,
the 18-29 year old women, who clearly had some amazing swimmers. They made up the 5 minute wave difference by
the time I was half way through my swim.
The aggression of these women was worse than those in my wave. They didn’t bother to swim around you, they
swam over you. I was grabbed, kicked,
elbowed repeatedly and frustration dug in. I felt this was unsportsman-like and
that I had an equal right to a fair swim and wasn’t getting it. That’s when I stopped and threw a stiff elbow
into the ribs of the woman who just elbowed me in the face. From there I just dealt with it. The swim otherwise was good though I still had the sense that I was one of the last in my wave. I never really have a sense of how the swim went until I look at the final results. I had to just move on to the next thing in my mind as the swim was now done and nothing could be done to better
the result except pass them on the bike and run. I exited the water actually having caught
some women in the wave ahead of me and some two waves ahead of me. Note:
I did NOT run them over when I passed them. That means I swam 5-10 minutes faster than
them. This made me feel a little
better. I later would learn that I was
43rd in my age group out of the water so I swam faster than more
than half of the women my age at the World level.
 |
| Swim Exit |
My next focus, now that the swim was done, was T1 and
actually pre-T1 because I first spent some time passing women on the run up to
transition. I peeled off the upper
portion of my wetsuit once up out of the sand and up the stairs and began the
long run to and through transition. It
is not an exaggeration when I tell you that T1 was over a half mile of running.
I entered, grabbed my bag which was easy to find because most everyone else
(the 17 previous waves) was already out on the bike. With my bike bag I ran to the clearing and
removed my helmet, glasses, bike shoes/socks and then proceeded to get the
wetsuit off my legs and feet. This went ok for my right leg but my left leg, on
which was my timing chip, was stubborn and as I struggled, my bike bag began to
blow away. Yes, the wind was picking
up. I had to have my bag so I grabbed it
and finally sat down to complete my exchange of clothing and gear. I then stuffed the wetsuit, cap and goggles
into the small bag and was up and running toward my bike which was a long way
up the transition. Finally I arrived at
my bike and grabbed it. One small
mistake occurred as the impact of my bike hitting the ground dislodged my
banana but I quickly scooped it up and stuffed it in my shorts pocket and was
on my way to the distant bike exit that included a steep hill climb just to get out. Thankfully they had carpet on the pavement as
I was running all of this in bike shoes that contain no traction for running
and certainly none for climbing. Finally
….. finally I got to the mount line.
My focus now was to the bike. Many, including me, were fairly certain the
bike course was going to be fast. I
believe this delusion was based on the fact that the normal 70.3 course that is
done here in Mooloolaba is fast. However
they changed the course for the championships, which I was aware of, and that
created a bit of an unknown, though I still thought it would be fast. And then
there is the factor of wind. The course
started out with some steep rolling hills until we entered the Sunshine Coast
Motorway (a highway). The motorway was straight and generally flat and going out ended up being
nice and fast as we were riding with a tailwind. I spent time passing women and a few men over
this section and was of course also passed by some women. I took time to eat my half of banana which proved to be very difficult. I was force-feeding myself and my stomach was not happy. I gagged a few times but finally finished it. I regularly drank my fluids and every 15 minutes or so I'd take two large gulps of UCAN. I noted everyone seemed very tuned into the rules and I did not see any intentional
drafting nor large packs of drafters so I was grateful but I heard from others that this violation was occurring and not many penalties were being dealt. After a while I noted that on the flat
sections some super stud women powered by me but low and behold when we got to
a slight incline (overpass) I passed them right back. This gave me a clue that they weren’t necessarily
climbers and the second half of this course was hilly. When I got to the first turn around point
this was when my first reality check hit.
Up to that point I was averaging about 22 mph but once I turned I
discovered why. Now I had to travel 17 or so miles back into a stiff headwind
and my average began to drop. I kept a
constant eye on my power output and my speed and was dismayed to discover that
I was riding at my FTP much of the time but dropping below 20 mph. I knew I
couldn’t grind away into the wind without potentially losing more for it so I
metered my effort based on power. It was
tough but I kept in mind it was tough for everyone. I realized too that I remained somewhat close
to the same women. Sometimes they would
pass me and eventually I would pass them.
It was really because you just couldn’t push hard for too long and our
paces were becoming more along the lines of interval work, which wasn’t
Finally T2. The bike
dismount can sometimes be hairy, but this one went smoothly. But there is only one narrow lane through
transition and no way to get by someone if they are blocking you and wouldn’t
you know it, I’m dying to get to my run shoes and I’ve got a slow-poke in front
of me. And as a reminder, the transition
area was very long. I couldn’t stand it
any longer and I yelled at her to please let me pass. I don’t know if she let
me but I did pass her and darted to my bike rack, threw the bike up onto it
and sprinted to my run bag. My T2 was
much better and faster than the average. Helmet off, run shoes on, race belt slipped on, Garmin activated and nutrition in my hand as I ran to drop off my bag and exit. From here on out I was hunting and looking to grab back as much time as
I could.
The run. Immediately
out of transition comes the hill which you will hit a total of 4 times over the
course of the run. It is a two lap
course so you run up and down the hill twice (that means 4 times up, 4 times
down). I was extremely prepared to run
off the bike and my running legs were already there for me when I hit the
hill. Up and over and onto the flat. I had my Garmin strapped on and during transition had
gotten it connected to the satellite so I knew my pace and mile times from the
start. I felt great and was clipping
along at 6:45 pace for the first three miles but I also knew that it was
unlikely I’d feel this good soon. I
actually wanted the Garmin so I could dial back early on and I tried to dial back. It was about this time that I
realized that at the last bike aid station I never did get my last banana. That solid food was a must for me and so I
needed to figure out plan B. I read
recently that if your mood begins to change during competition (as in if you
become moody and grumpy) you need nutrition.
I felt light and happy up to mile three and then I felt grumpy. I took the gel I had in my pocket. I was now headed back toward the transition
on the second half of loop 1 and I saw my pace begin to slow to around 7:00
minute pace. That was ok because I was otherwise ahead of pace but then I also
found that I wasn’t getting water into my body at aid stations unless I walked
a few steps to drink it. So I had to
walk through for some water and at that point felt like I needed to keep the
sugar input coming so I also drank several gulps of cola. That was yummy. I was feeling ok by the time
I hit the hill again but it was a bit harder this time, no doubt. I rounded the
turn-around and headed back up the hill for the third time, definitely not
feeling cheery anymore. Then on lap two,
although my pace stayed robust
So it was completed.
I wasn’t disappointed. I wasn’t
elated. I didn’t finish with a smile but
I was very glad to finish. I think I
felt at the end the same way I felt at the beginning. Calm, peaceful, quiet, contemplative. I walked through the recovery chute as they
handed me a medal, a towel, a t-shirt and hat.
I was happy but occasionally something would lurch in my psyche. Maybe just a bit of disappointment but it
wasn’t justified. It was my own stubborn
competitive nature picking on me. I have
since squelched it and told it to “shove off mate.” It was a good day.
That night as I tried to go to sleep I told John, “well I
think I’m pretty well cured of my desire to do these long races. I don’t want to do anymore 70.3’s.” When I woke up the next morning I was
planning my next 70.3. I’m in search of
something I guess. The thing about
triathlon that captures me the most is that there is always more to work
on. Especially for me. I’m convinced I’m
more than just a runner so I am going to be searching for that perfect race. And yes I realize it may never come. And if it does come I may not recognize it.
It was a beautiful blessing also to have shared this experience with other Santa
Barbara athletes: Brittany Braden, Zack Paris, Elke Peirtsegaele, Sandy
Roberts, George Esahak-Gage, along with loved ones that came to support each of
us. I saw Sandy and Elke a few times during the race and it was comforting. It was a huge blessing to hear John and Cindy (Braden) cheering for me on the run. Australia was wonderful. The people
are so friendly and informative. I
discovered they don’t really have cream for their espresso. They use milk and
were so thrown by my request for cream. We eventually bought our own “sort of”
cream and I carried it in my purse when heading for espresso. But they have a ton of espresso and it was
good. We learned quickly to walk on the left side of the sidewalk.
This was a beautiful journey from day one and I have so many
people to thank. I want to thank those
who coached and guided me starting with my husband John. Thank you John for encouraging me, believing in me, guiding me and tolerating me! And I’d like to thank Fred Maggiore for the
huge amount of time he applied creating the workout plan and often training
with me, and also for his willingness to talk through any question or concern I had. And I’d like to thank Nash
Jimenez who has been a long time running partner to John and I and mentor. And then to those who trained with me either
on the swim, bike or run. There are so
many. John, Desa, Jen, Lynelle, Tabitha,
and Nash on the run. On the bike: Fred,
Doug, Poul, Jim, Chris, Joe, Greg, James, Victor, Dave(s), Mike. In the swim, lane-mates Joe, Renaud, Sam,
Amy, Chrystal, Christie, Laurence, Bob, along with the “encouragers” in the
next lane. And I’d like to thank the
very, very many who simply encouraged me, cared and showed it: My sons Ryan and
Jordan, Michael Acton, Amy Williams, Heather Royer, Liz Boscacci, Mike, Jennifer,
Jacob and Joe Mansbach, many of my co-workers. Thank you also to De Soto Sports for allowing me to be an ambassador of their amazing triathlon clothing. Thank you all for making this special experience mean so much more. It’s no fun doing something epic without many
with whom to share it.
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