4th of July - some rain, a race, and finally some SUN!

When last I left you, I was suffering under endlessly cloudy skies. It didn't get better right away, it actually got worse. Thursday was more rainy than it had been so far, and although I thought I might've found a window of opportunity in which the rain might not be so bad, I was reminded of why I never trust weather.com radars while I pedaled through the torrential downpour. I was somewhat spared on my run, but it didn't make me feel a whole lot better. The temperature didn't even reach 60 that day. At least I found a brief period of time in which the lake actually calmed down so I didn't have to worry about drowning while fighting whitecaps on my swim.

Friday actually wasn't so bad. The sun wasn't out, but I don't think it was raining. I got in a little 45-minute bike ride - a nice, short one since I was racing the next day - and didn't finish completely soaked. As a result of all of this wet riding, my cycling shoes have somehow become caked in sand on the inside, obviously from loads of road grime being kicked up by my wheels and the water washing it from my legs down to my feet. Because it finally wasn't raining, I wanted nothing more than to spend the remainder of the day lounging in the sun with my family at the lake, like other 4th of July weekend people might do. Instead, I had to hit the road and head back to Vermont, this time Killington, for a little race.

So off I went, along the exact same rural route I had ridden back on the week before. At least I didn't need mapquest again for this trip. The drive was fairly painless, broken up by one brief stop at a country store in Vermont to pick up a turkey sandwich on a nice bulky roll that would serve as my pre-race dinner. It's way to close to Lake Placid to be gorging on pasta, however delicious it might have been. Luckily, I am fairly certain I could live exclusively on turkey sandwiches if needed, so I found it a suitable compromise.

I arrived at the base of Killington at about 4:30 after riding a final stretch of road that was part of my 7-hour ride the week before. The clouds had moved in, of course, and it was starting to rain. My first stop was at race registration. There were two races: a sprint of about a third of a mile swim, a 15-mile bike and 4-mile run, and an "international" distance, in which we did exactly twice as much. The race offered 250 free entries to athletes who had either won a triathlon outright in the past 12 months, or won their age group. Thankfully, within the last 12 months, in spite of my incredibly out-of-form state, I managed to find a race small enough last September that I could actually win. And just to make sure, I added in the fact that I had won Lake Placid in 2006. I don't often play that card, but in this case, it would save me $165 - a fairly outrageous sum considering the distance and scope of the event - so it seemed worth a mention. Also against this race I felt was that it happened to fall on the 4th of July. I realize that triathletes often make little vacations around travel to races, but enough of these summer weekends are taken up by events without taking a holiday weekend away from time with say, family and some often-neglected non-triathlete friends rather than going to yet another race.

These are the key reasons for which I believe there were so few people signed up to participate. When I went in to get my packet, I had to check the list of names for my number (always easy, alphabetically I'm typically the last name on the list) There were two sheets of paper with names printed in a rather large font, the second page filled only about halfway. I already knew of two pre-registered athletes who would not be participating. Needless to say, it was going to be a small field.

I headed back in the other direction to the bed and breakfast where I would be rooming with my teammates Tim and Cait Snow and Brian Hughes. We all agreed that we wished we were staying there longer, since it was just a charming, adorable place. It made me want to go spend a ski weekend there next January. Unfortunately we would not be able to partake in the breakfast. We spent the evening drooling over shows on the Food Network, watching how they make Sun Chips and guacamole-flavored tortilla chips, among other things, while we ate our sandwiches. The Food Network for the athlete trying to get to race weight is pretty much the equivalent of porn. Only three more weeks...

I slept fairly well, although spent some time awake in the middle of the night listening to the trees rustling in the breeze and hoping that race day wouldn't be incredibly windy. I wanted to stay in bed all morning and then just head downstairs to the lounge and eat breakfast there, as I'm finding it more and more difficult to get psyched up for these random little races that don't really mean anything to me with the big one looming ever closer. But I followed the pre-race plan as usual, downing my jar of applesauce, banana, protein shake and sports drink (I miss my bagels or english muffins with peanut butter) and getting my stuff together to head to the race. At least given the race's unusually late start time of 8:30, I didn't even have to get up until 6. Had I not needed to eat, I could've probably slept until 7 and still had plenty of time.

I drove up the road maybe two miles to the base lodge parking lot that served as the transition area. Keeping in tradition with the weather as of late, it started to rain. Sure, why should it start being nice out now? It's only July. It was also cold, but really I'd take the 40's right now if it just meant the clouds might go away for a bit. I walked my bike over to the bike rack - yes, singular, just one bike rack - and set up my little transition area. At least given the incredibly low number of participants I had plenty of space in which to lay out my stuff. And hey, there were even flushing toilets and of course no lines at all! The wind picked up, which I think just added to the atmosphere of being at a ski area, and I reluctantly put on my wetsuit and went to watch the start of the sprint race, 30 minutes before the rest of us would start.

The swim took place in a small pond at the base of the mountain, apparently the source of the snowmaking for the winter months. It was clean and cool - about 69 as reported, and one woman from Texas even wore a neoprene cap - and basically a pretty neat little swim venue. We would swim clockwise in almost a circle around the pond and under a bridge suspended overhead. The sprint would go around once, and the rest of us twice. The competitors in the sprint lined up in the water for their start, and this was basically the complete opposite of what you might see in, say, Lake Placid. I counted 28 heads bobbing up and down in the water, probably less people than might do a typically well-attended training swim elsewhere, but today it was the entire race field. And with very little fanfare, their race began. We watched the swimmers navigate the course, one in particular far ahead of everyone else. One by one they headed off on their bikes, and it is amazing how much time some people can take to swim such a short course, but before we knew it, they were all gone and it was time for the rest of us to get in the water.

According to the final results, 30 of us finished the race. Even just getting in the water it seemed like far less, especially when you're used to much larger throngs of people, and that's just in one wave out of several. It was kind of nice to be fairly certain that I wouldn't get kicked in the head, or at least the odds were that I shouldn't. It was a little windy and of course still incredibly cloudy when we got in the water, but at least the rain had stopped. That didn't seem to stop me from shivering uncontrollably as I waited impatiently for 8:30. But finally we lined up and it was time to go. Our little race had begun.

Other than my own teammates, I had no clue about the athletic abilities of the rest of the people in the race. It came as a bit of a surprise to me to see what looked to be quite a few people shooting off to the front right away. For some reason my goggles had chosen that day to start filling with water on the left side, which they had never done before. I wound up stopping twice before realizing that it was because the strap behind my head was sitting far too low and causing it to pull the goggles down from my left eye, so once I got that under control I was able to swim with clear vision for the remainder of the way. I really liked that swim for some reason. I wasn't getting pushed or shoved or coming up on slow swimmers doing the breast-stroke kick at my head from the waves in front of me. The water was clean and once we got started it felt like the perfect temperature. It was easy to sight and I just felt smooth and almost fast. At times I actually had to try and make myself work harder because I think I got carried away with just enjoying it. I finished the first loop quickly enough, and before I knew it I was approaching the stairs to exit the water, still with no flailing arms or wandering feet aimed for my head.

I headed for my bike, which had remained upright during a few determined gusts of wind that had managed to knock my helmet and gels to the ground on the opposite side of the bike rack. So after nearly falling over a couple of times from the post-swim dizziness, it didn't help me any to have to bend under the rack to retrieve these very-necessary items. I definitely need work on my T1 skills. Either way, I was off on the bike.

I didn't really need to see the bike course profile online to tell me what I already knew from riding much of the course a week prior. It was basically 15 miles of riding downhil, followed by 15 miles of riding uphill - the worst of which was to come in the final two miles. The rain had mercifully stopped, but the roads were still wet. I was far more interested in finishing this particular race in one piece than I was in setting land-speed records, so I was fairly cautious on that first, steep descent. For a minute I thought maybe I'd just let it go and see how fast I could make it, but right away there happened to be one other cyclist and two ill-timed cars that we seemed to have been catching up to, so I eased up a bit. Also, there was a nice batch of particularly rough pavement almost immediately that made me wonder if I had gotten a flat tire for probably the next half-mile. My concern was only heightened when very soon after I spotted Cait on the opposite side of the road, someone trying to help her with something on her bike. I really hoped that it was just something mechanical and she hadn't fallen, but luckily from my vantage point she looked physically ok. I hoped I'd see her out there sometime later, nobody ever wants to have to drop out due to a mechanical issue. Or any other reason, for that matter.

Anyway, after one final, extremely cautious right turn onto Vermont route 4, I stopped trying to go slower and enjoyed the easy ride downhill. Actually, it wound up being flatter than I anticipated. I tried to keep track of my speed and the distance, but my bike computer doesn't seem to like the sensor magnet on my race wheel, so basically I was flying blind. Unless of course I actually was flying downhill at 8mph, but after probably 15 frustrating miles, I gave up and just turned the stupid thing off. The great part about a race that small is that you certainly don't have to worry about maneuvering around too many people or any drafting. Every single person was completely by themselves. The road flattened out after the initial descent and I actually had to work. The roads actually seemed to be dry in spots as we got further and further away from the mountain and I think the sun may have even peeked out for a bit.

I reached the turn in about 34 minutes, which is pretty speedy for 15 miles. But then again, I knew what I was in for on the return trip. After riding back on the flat parts for a bit, and facing another head wind that I swear was blowing in the opposite direction on the way back, it was time to start climbing. Not long before that I was relieved to see Cait riding in the opposite direction, obviously back in the race. She seemed to be just fine now, and I knew for sure she'd catch me on the run. The climb back wasn't too bad for a while, you just kind of keep on going. It got increasingly more difficult once we turned back onto Killington road for the final 3-and-a-half mile stretch back to T2. I finally had to stand up and hammer out the last little bit before pulling in. It took me close to an hour to ride the second half. Yikes.

Bike racked, helmet off, racing flats on (why I bother with light-weight shoes when I'm such an insanely slow runner, I don't really know, but I have them so I might as well use them) and off I went for the run. The run started back the way the bike course came, with a mile-and-a-half of nothing but downhill. Somehow I still managed to run that first mile slow, even though it didn't feel like it. Once we turned off onto the side roads the real fun began. I ran up... and up, and up and up and up. It was a dirt road at a steepness you rarely encounter anywhere but this close to a ski area. I slowed to nearly a crawl since hill-running is certainly not my forte, and silently wondered how I was going to survive the reportedly treacherously-hilly marathon course that is Ironman Utah in 10 short months.

After another mile of uphill, my concern drifted more towards wondering if I was even still on the run course. I hadn't seen a soul since the first half-mile when I was quickly passed by several people who disappeared faster than I could even finish wondering why I still can't seem to run at anything resembling a decent pace. The road curved around through driveways to complexes of condos and I tried my best to stay on what looked like the main road, but given that it was all dirt and nothing seemed marked, I really wasn't sure anymore. Just when I started to consider how embarrassing it might be to get lost, I rounded a corner and came upon an aid station. I was far more relieved to just know that I was on the right track than I was for the opportunity for some fluids. At that point a gentle rain had started to fall and I certainly didn't feel like I was losing a ton of sweat compared to normal.

The road went back down for a bit, and then of course went even more steeply back up, so I got to go really slow again. I rounded the corner to start my second lap, at least relieved to know that the first had gone by quickly in spite of the slowness, but still not looking forward to having to climb those hills a second time. Almost immediately, it started to pour. I'm talking Lake Placid 2008 pouring rain. Except in this case it only lasted for 5 minutes instead of 14 hours. As I started climbing the mountain once again, going even slower this time, Cait caught me. I knew she would eventually, I just didn't expect it to be so soon. I realize she's fast, but I guess I just didn't realize how slow I was comparatively. She was gone in an instant. As I continued to climb, the rain had stopped and the sun even seemed to be near coming out again. I've never seen the weather shift so much in such a short span of time, and I suddenly felt like my head was going to explode in the relative heat. My legs seemed a lot worse off this time around, and with nobody left behind me that I could see, the incentive to push on and make my legs burn any more than they already did just wasn't there.

I rounded the corner towards the turn for the finish and went off to run over the bridge we had swum under. It was actually quite a cool little end to a race. And before I knew it, I was done. Just under 3 hours, second female, obviously behind Cait and ahead of the mere 5 other women in the race. I was immensely glad to be finished, collected my bottle of water and commemorative zipper-pull, and turned in my timing chip. It didn't take long for Cait to ask, "So, you want to go run?" I looked at her for a minute, and she seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. "Well, maybe not want to..." For the QT2 team, the day almost never ends when you cross the race finish line. So we went to change our shoes and wait out another downpour before heading out for a little more running.

Cait, Tim, and Chris Casey, another teammate, headed off to run the course again. I had zero interest in running those hills again, and had zero chance of keeping up anyway unless there were wheels involved, so I ran with Keith, yet another teammate who had raced, and we did short-ish loops on the flattest terrain we could find in the area without just running back and forth in the parking lot. The rain and wind had kicked up and I again wondered where summer might be hiding. We stopped in the middle of the run for the decidedly unceremonious awards ceremony. Since it was raining, the very few remaining racers - maybe 10 of us - stood under an awning to collect one of the many engraved medals that were on the table. There were far more medals than there were people in the race, and since the awards went 3-deep I'm pretty sure everyone would have won something had they merely stayed. I was the only one in my age group at all, but took home my medal for second overall female. I finished my run up, changed out of my drenched clothes in the car, and headed back to New Hampshire. It was a tough race, but still kind of a fun experience, as they usually tend to be.

On the drive back I experienced the epitome of scattered showers. One minute it would be raining, then not. The sun might come out, then it was pouring. This pattern remained constant for just over 90 miles. I enjoyed a post-race toasted cinnamon raisin bagel to help the recovery process, and arrived back at the lake to a small crowd of my older sister's friends and their small children, as well as a few relatives. But no time to chat, I had to go and ride my bike for another 2 hours. Miraculously, the sun was out upon my arrival back and I naively put on my sunglasses for my ride. I don't think I made it half a mile before I realized I wasn't going to need them any longer, but I stubbornly wore them for another 40 minutes at least, before the pouring rain and the thunderstorm finally convinced me that they would be much better off in my jersey pocket.

In all of the bad weather I've ridden in, this might have actually been my first real thunderstorm. It's really not much fun. Unfortunately, when it finally rolled in and I could see the lightning and hear the thunder, I was somewhat in the middle of nowhere, so finding a place to hide out wasn't really an option. I actually passed several other people during the storm, which seemed crazy to me. One other guy who looked like a real cyclist, one poor young woman on a cruiser bike who looked like she had just gone out to run some errands or something, and, most curiously, a young family, parents and two daughters who were probably in the range of 6 and 9. They seemed not to be too concerned with the weather, and just as I passed, the father bringing up the rear of the group said to his younger daughter in front of him, "You know, if you didn't ride so slow you wouldn't fall over like that." Encouraging.

The storm passed and I didn't get struck by lightning. By the time I got back to the lake the roads were nearly dry again. I was hungry and exhausted, but also had a messy bike and was a mess myself, so I had to clean the bike and then take a quick shower before I could finally eat. Everyone else had eaten earlier, but luckily there was a lot of leftover chicken that I ate without even heating it up. There was also a large bowl of salad, probably an amount that you might put on a table for a family of four, and I ate all of that as well. I tried to go to sleep, but someone was setting off fireworkds literally right outside my bedroom window, so I had no choice but to enjoy the view from my bed and hope it didn't go on too much longer. I slept soundly after that.

I slept in on Sunday, knowing I didn't have any huge workouts and exhausted from the day before. The rest of the family had dad's famous waffles while I tried to satisfy my never-ending hunger with fruit. The mots amazing thing about the day was that the sun was out. And not just kind of, or momentarily peeking through the clouds, but surrounded by blue sky. This sight hadn't been seen in these parts for at least two weeks. It was also quite windy and cool, so I was in no rush to get my workouts in. Instead, I stayed in my pajamas until after lunch and did the Sunday crossword puzzle. I eventually did venture outside to read in the sun once almost all of the other guests had gone home, still in denial that I had any workouts to do. Finally at 4:00 I headed out for my bike ride, in an actual sleeveless jersey instead of the warm ones I've been having to wear. Bank thermometers told me it was in the mid 70's, but since it had recently been so cold, I felt like it was 90. I finished my bike and run and after a shower promptly deposited myself in a chair at the end of the dock with a book, glad to be done and able to relax again.

Today began with a lovely recovery swim in the incredibly glassy waters of Squam Lake. My legs are still tired and I was very glad not to have to exert myself in any way after that. As an added bonus, the sun was out again. Two days in a row! You'd think it was summer or something...

Anyway, busy weekend and now it is just three short weeks to Lake Placid and I can't believe it.