First race of the season: off to a great start

I've had about 32 hours to recover from my first race of the season. I am not sure if this post will turn into a detailed race report, as I am sitting in the sun at an outdoor coffee shop at Oceanside Harbor, where the weather is gorgeous, but I just wanted to get some of it out there at least to start. Last week I mentioned how excited I was for the race, but it seemed that the closer the race got, the less I was looking forward to it. I was almost dreading it. I think that feeling of dread is something that had become ingrained in me all last season as I showed up at every start line feeling woefully underprepared to race, based on injuries that led to lack of training time. I have never been the type of person to not show up trained and ready to race, but there were a number of factors that were just out of my control last year. So not looking forward to racing became the standard, and apparently I forgot what it was like to feel ready. At the start of last week I felt ready, but then we got closer and I wasn't so sure anymore. I also think some of it was a lot of rough nights sleeping for no apparent reason, but that lack of sleep likely left me more cranky than usual.

But let's pick up with Friday, after the whole chain/cassette fiasco. One nice thing about my new coach, Jesse at QT2 Systems, is that he not only tells me what to do to train, he tells me what to eat. Everyday eating as well as fueling for races. While my day-to-day nutrition has changed under his guidance, my pre-race nutrition, with the exception of breakfast the morning of the race, really hasn't changed. It's nice to know that you were at least doing something right all these years. I love to have a big breakfast the day before the race and then let the amount of food being eaten sort of taper off as the day goes along, so I almost don't even have to eat dinner if I don't feel like it. I knew I had to get something down, so I opted for the same "dinner" I had the night before I went out and had my best Ironman ever. The magic dinner? Cinnamon raisin bagel with peanut butter. Yum. I munched that down fairly early and called it a night as far as food was concerned. My roommates ate a big pasta dinner at about 7:00. Not that that's wrong, it's just not something that would appeal to me. I hate going to bed on a full stomach, and we were all in bed not long after that.

I actually slept pretty darn well, considering it was the night before a race. I think it took me a while to fall asleep, but once I was asleep, I stayed that way until probably 10 minutes before my alarm went off at 4:30. My swim wave went off at 7:33am, so I had three hours to go. That meant it was time to eat an insane amount of apple sauce (coach's idea, not mine) a banana and a protein shake. I used to be more of a bagel or english muffin kind of person, but hey, I'll let someone else decide what I'm supposed to eat as long as it works. The other nice part about the light dinner is you eliminate that second, third, and sometimes even fourth trip to the bathroom before the race you might otherwise have had. Although in this case, our condo is so conveniently located to the start that we were able to walk down, set up our transition areas, and then come back to the condo and hang out for about an hour, use a real bathroom, put on our wetsuits and walk back down to the start.

It was a chilly morning, but of course coming right out of a pretty brutal New England winter, just about anything feels warm, even if it is in the 40's. The low here is the high back home. Even though my wave went off so late, the pros started at 6:40 so we had to be out of the transition and lined up not long after that so we wouldn't be in the way when they came out of the water. I had heard that the water was about 59, which is a far cry from the 53 or 54 it was the last time I raced here, in 2006. I know that little 5 degrees doesn't sound like much, but believe me, it is. I watched the pros running out and only a few of them looked cold, so I thought I'd be ok. It was quite a long wait and got a bit cold at times, although again, nowhere near as bad as 2006 when it was raining while we waited and I spent the whole time shivering uncontrollably.

Our time to get in the water came rather quickly, and I think I still wasn't that excited about racing. What am I doing here? Why do I keep doing this to myself? All of my races last year were so miserable I forgot what it was like to have fun during one of them. I stood at the water's edge with my swim wave, #16, women 30-34 (even though I am NOT 30 and do NOT like the age-up rule, but DO like the woman who put my age on my calf and said she could put 29 even though I'm not in that age group, and I wasn't going to argue) and put my feet in the shallow water just off the boat ramp. My first thought was that it actually felt pretty darn warm. Then I thought that it was either just because it was the shallow part or because about 1700 people were already in the water ahead of us and nearly all of them peed when they got in there.

The wave in front of us began and it was time for us to make our way to the start line and get a very brief warm-up swim. The initial few strokes were a little chilly, as was putting my face in the water, but once I got going, it was really fine. I was actually incredibly relieved at how nice it felt. And out of nowhere, a sense of calm came over me. I was ready to go. I had trained, I wasn't injured, I still have some weight to lose but am by no means out-of-shape and I was ready to go. I lined up at the front of my wave, even though I know I probably don't belong there but keep hoping for some of my swim training to pay off and give me the miraculous swim that never, ever happens, and awaited the air horn. And then we were off.

Within seconds I remembered how much fun I have racing. It was looking like a gorgeous day, the water wasn't too cold, I was feeling pretty good and I got to do a race at a gorgeous venue with some friends. I almost knew right from the beginning that it was going to be a good day. If nothing else, I knew I was going to enjoy the weather. The swim start wasn't too rough and I had no trouble sighting for the first half. I somehow inevitably find myself swimming alone in these races, even though there are hundreds of other people in the water, I am never near any of them, and it doesn't appear to me it is because I am off course. I don't know what it is. I opted not to look at my watch at all and just kept on swimming. The water was murky so there wasn't much to look at, and when we turned to head back towards shore I was completely blinded by the rising sun. I actually stopped for a second and pulled my goggles off of my face to find the next buoy. From then on, I just followed the splashing in front of me and hoped that those people were headed in the right direction. I somehow would stumble upon the buoys, only noticing them when I was about ready to run into them, but I have no idea whether or not I stayed on course. I had no idea how I was doing, but for a while I thought maybe pretty well since I was swimming through waves in front of me and never seemed to see any red swim caps of my wave-mates anywhere near me. However, as usual, I was disappointed to see yet another 35-minute swim time on my watch. I can't seem to shake that outside of Mooseman, even though I know I can swim faster than that. But at least at no point in the swim did I start getting annoyed that it wasn't over yet, because I was actually enjoying myself.

T1 is quite a long affair. You run up the boat ramp and then all the way to the back of transition and back through to your bike. You really notice how long it is when you watch the pros, such as Andy Potts, exit the water and run right by you and it seems like 5 minutes go by before you finally see them coming back on the other side to get to their bikes. Most of the bikes near mine were gone, which is fairly common, especially this time given that most of my rack actually started in the wave ahead of me. It took me a minute to get myself together, but then it was time to get off and tackle the bike course.

I had debated the day before about whether or not to wear arm warmers or something for the bike, since I knew it would be pretty chilly that morning. Three years ago I actually took the time to put on a long-sleeved jersey, tights, a skull cap and gloves. You'd think I wasn't the one who had just come from NH, but I was just so sick of being cold on bike rides, and I didn't want to deal with it in the race. This time though, I knew the sun was going to be out, and there is something about racing that makes you a whole lot less cold, so I decided to skip them, thinking I'd probably be shivering for about 30 minutes or so, but eventually I'd be fine. But from the moment I started riding I was nice and warm and very glad I didn't bother putting anything else on.

The start of the course is prett flat and winds through these narrow bike paths. It can be a little rough for those of us who are way behind the waves and also not good swimmers, but good enough bikers to have to pass a whole lot of people, so it was crowded there for a while. The wind seemed to actually be blowing at us from onshore, so I thought maybe the last section of the course back to the coast would be aided with a tail wind. But no time to think about that just yet. I felt great for the most part. I let the disappointing swim go pretty quick, because it was still two minutes faster than I went last time, and just concentrated on riding. I just felt like I was cruising, passing everyone I came across and moving through the field. I wondered how long I could keep it up and how much speed I was going to lose once I hit the hills.

The course is beautiful, as it winds through Camp Pendleton military base, where civilians are normally not allowed. Nobody can pre-ride the course. About halfway through, the hills began. Up to that point I was holding a pretty good pace, I knew over 20mph. Gravity is still not my friend at this point when it comes to climbing, but I just concentrated on getting up and over each hill as it came along. The big hill to start actually didn't seem as bad as I remembered it, but I think it just surprised me so much last time. I had, however, forgotten how many more hills are hiding behind it. Many of which don't even look like real hills, but certainly feel like it as you grind up in your easiest gear at 10mph and watch a few people pushing their bikes up. Luckily we did eventually get to a point where the hills were through, and I really pushed those downhills and flats.

I remembered from three years ago that the last flat section was painful due to a serious head wind. I could've sworn that it wasn't anywhere near as bad this time, but my fellow competitors tell me that yes, it was windy out there. So maybe my new bike really is that much more aero, or maybe my new aero helmet, or maybe the lack of all of those extra layers of warm clothes, I don't really know. I just know that the bib numbers of the people I was passing just kept on getting lower and lower as I moved through the field, and the wind didn't seem to be affecting me that much. I had expected my average speed to dip below 20mph due to the hills in the second half of the course, but that didn't seem to be the case. I was amazed and happy to approach the finish of the bike before I knew it, getting off in 2:40 and averaging just a shade under 21mph. The goal time I was given by my coach was to ride a 2:57. Ok, I think I beat that one. I just hoped it wasn't at the expense of my run.

T2 was quick and painless. First thing I noticed was there were no bikes on my rack, which in T2 is a much better thing than it is in T1. Socks and shoes, visor, flip the number from back to front, grab a gel and start running.

Ok, running was definitely not my strong suit last year... or really even the year before that. Last year I'm not sure you even could've called it running most of the time. My "best" half marathon of any kind last year was the Big Lake half marathon, which I did two weeks after I started running post-6-weeks of no running at all, and somehow ran 1:56. Next best was actually the first half of my marathon in Lake Placid in a little over two hours, just before I had to give up and limp most of the rest of the way. My Mooseman run split was I think about 2:20 in the blazing heat. Then, the unbelievable 2:53 at Timberman, culminating with a 6:16 overall finish. To say I was due for a good race would be a horrendous understatement. But I didn't know what to expect here.

My goal time, which was given to me, was I believe 1:41-1:43. I was to go out in 7:25, NO FASTER, and then settle in and hold on as long as I could. I felt pretty good to start, but really, I don't remember much what it feels like to run well. I thought I held back and was pretty conservative, and I hit the first mile in 7:20, proving that pretty much no matter what I do I go out too fast. That included a quarter-mile of running in sand, which is no easy feat, especially when it is soft sand. I was surprised at how good I felt, and how relaxed I was running. I wasn't so much trying to run fast as I was just trying to stay completely comfortable and under control, and tried to stay conscious of my run form. The miles ticked off in under 7:30 and I was torn between waiting to fall apart and getting ahead of myself and thinking maybe I'd shatter my goals. But there was still quite a ways to go. My heart rate was also lower than what I normally run a race like that at, so I took that as an encouraging sign as well.

If nothing else though, I was just plain having fun. I haven't had fun in a race (aside from a tiny sprint last summer) in a while. I mean, I cried on the run at Timberman last year, just because I was that miserable. And I only cry about twice a year, so you know it had to be bad. The weather was gorgeous, the sun was shining, the course was lined with amazing spectators and volunteers who went out of their way to cheer you on by name, the scenery was gorgeous as I ran along the ocean, I actually felt good, how could I not have been having fun?

The time went by incredibly fast and before I knew it I was already at the turn for the second loop, in 49 minutes and some amount of seconds. I was slowing a bit, but I didn't feel like disaster was imminent, and I wasn't getting passed by hoardes of people as I had become accustomed to in 2008. In short, I was starting to feel like my old self again, and it felt good.

I knew I was slowing down, but I didn't feel nearly as beat up as I normally might at that point in a half ironman. I really felt like all of my training was seriously paying off. For a brief moment I thought maybe I'd break 5 hours, but as I got closer I figured I probably wasn't going to make it, but it wasn't going to be much over, either. I was feeling ready to be done, but not nearly as ready as I often might have felt at that point. Although I swear it took forever to see that sign for mile 12! I even found myself able to kick it up a little for that last mile... or more likely, one of those times where you feel like you're kicking it up, but it really just feels like you are because it is that late in the race, when in actuality you really aren't moving that much faster. I even passed some people. Really on the run the only people I got passed by were the men 30-34 who were the only ones unfortunate enough to start behind us in the swim waves.

I neared the finish and I was just elated. I crossed in a little over 5:02, vastly exceeding my goal time of 5:15, a little slow on the swim, way faster on the bike, and dead on for the run in just under 1:42. I have not done better than I expected to in a race since I won Lake Placid. That is a long time to have disappointing results. Even more amazing to me is that I was 6 minutes faster this year here than I was in 2006, and we all know how well that season turned out. So needless to say, I am pretty darn happy. Really, truly looking forward to the rest of the season and all of the improvements left to be made.

I grabbed my stuff and was back at my condo probably 15 minutes after finishing and able to take a shower right away, which is just a great way to go, and then could watch the people approaching the finish from our balcony. Reflecting on the race, there is nothing I can think of that I might have done differently to be faster. It really just went perfect. Sure I'd still like to be faster, and later on this season a 5:02 is not going to cut it for me, but given where I am now, it's great. I'm thrilled, and it's a good feeling.

But now the sun is setting on my last evening on the west coast, and I have to go think about getting my stuff together. I'm sore, but not terrible, managed to get in a bike ride today and hoping for one last one tomorrow and maybe even a little swim if I have time. Then it's time to get ready for St. Croix in four short weeks!