Race Reports 2015
Weekend Race Report: USAT Duathlon Nationals 2015
2:23 PM
Part One
I'll be honest. I really don't know where to start.
I'm still coming down off this huge high from an incredible weekend of racing.
This past weekend was my first nationals-level appearance at the USAT Duathlon National Championships in stunningly beautiful St. Paul, Minnesota.
This time, the race was all about proving to myself and, at least in my mind, to all my supporters, that I CAN do this. I had been invited to this year's World Championships in Adelaide, Austrailia, based on last year's cumulative performance alone (I did not attend Nats), and I desperately wanted to show that all my training, all my hard work, dedication, sacrifice, both on my part and my husband's, was worth it. That I was good enough to be racing at a national level and that I, in fact, earned my invite to compete at Worlds and that everybody who had donated money to support my cause wasn't supporting a dead horse, so to speak.
And I managed to pull it off!
Part Two
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| Except for that grey bag, all this went with me. So. Much. Gear. Patagonia luggage with backpack straps was a total lifesaver. |
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| Ahh the Cookie! Yes it is good. And 300 calories. I only ate half :( |
I arrived in St. Paul late, late Thursday night, finally tromping up to my hotel room well past midnight and passing out. I awoke promptly at 6 the next morning, mostly due to the sunlight peeking into my room more than anything else, and set out to fuel up and figure out how to exactly get my bicycle reassembled so that I could pre-ride the course. Marty at Schlegel Bicycles had done a beautiful job packing my bike at the very last minute for airline transport, but I had never had to re-assemble a TT bike that had been so thoroughly broken down before, and I knew I would need professional help getting it back together.
I found a wonderful breakfast/lunch spot just down the street from my hotel, full of farm-fresh produce, eggs, and surprisingly some of the best damn hot cereal I've ever eaten (seriously, who writes about hot cereal? It's that fucking good!) - although sadly, their coffee leaves something to be desired, though Max informed me that dark and bitter is how Minnesotans seem to prefer their brew... a week's worth of northern coffee convinces me he may be correct.
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| Srsly so good... except for that coffee |
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| Fresh every day. Did I mention I ate here every day? Oh Buttered Tin, you will be missed. And I never even tried your baked goods. |
After that, I drove over to the event hotel, thinking that's where I had read the mechanics would be. After hauling my bike box out of the SUV and lugging it inside, I found out I was wrong, and that they, in fact, had moved to the race site instead. Some hauling and googling later, and I managed to drive up to the mechanics on course and be the third person in line waiting for bike re-assembly.
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| Man knows how to treat a lady... |
The fellas at Gear West Bike and Triathlon did a fantastic job putting Vela back together (and even noted their admiration for Marty's work in packing the bike, thankyouverymuch). I had a nice conversation with the mechanic working on her - describing the madness that is Tulsa Tough, which was due to take place back home the following weekend, while he described the North Star Bike Festival the week after Tough, and told me where I could go to ride that course should I want to on Sunday.
Pre-riding
After all that, I finally made one quick trip back to my hotel room to gear up, found my bike on the rack at the course again, and set out to ride. Here's where things started to go oh, so wrong...
The course was a roughly 7 mi loop, done 3x for the standard distance duathlon. My plan was to ride it twice, once at an easy pace to warmup, and then again with some leg openers to really get the blood flowing. I tried to study the course map, I really did. But USAT had uploaded a very low-resolution photo of it on the official website and called it a day, which in turn meant that I could never quiite make out the street names along the course. I was told there was a big climb on the course, so as I headed west and started climbing several miles in, I just assumed I was on the right track. Plus, you could see barriers lying along the side of the as-unmarked-yet course, giving me assurances I was still heading along the proper route.
It was about 6 miles in when I realized that I was hopelessly, utterly lost.
I found myself in the middle of a small neighborhood in the middle of town, and realized to my chagrin that this couldn't possibly be the right path. There were still barriers everywhere, but I had begun to realize that those barriers belonged the road construction nearby, and not the course itself. I frantically tried comparing where I was on my map app to the race course image (thank goodness my tri kit had enough pocket for a phone!). I tried heading up the street I thought would put me back on the right path, only to then find myself crossing a bridge with another climb onto the other island.
After 30 minutes or so I finally managed turn around, get myself back to where I had run off-course, and head back the way I came. Using my phone, I began comparing my position every 5 minutes or so to the race map, and it slowly began clear to me that I had attempted the course backwards.
It was here that I realized that those climbs I thought were the course climbs made for some serious downhills.
Especially where Lilydale turns 360 degrees onto Sibley. I almost found myself pulling a Quintana as my bike started swinging wide out towards the guardrail. Instantly, a shockwave of nerves and fear began to wash over me. I realized that if my old fears about descents and cornering started getting the best of me, I was going to lose oodles of time to riding to bullhorns just so I could brake on my way down.
I finally wound up back at the transition area, where a couple of Austin friends (Angie and Bryan) found me and then explained the route. They said they had seen me head out the wrong way and tried to holler... Alas, I never heard them :(
The start area was very close to where I had gotten lost, except "lower," somehow. I found out why real quick. I headed back out one more time, this time in the proper direction, and found myself climbing a serious little hill almost immediately past the transition area. The climb was long enough, and steep enough, to require some serious endurance. I began regretting not bringing a change of cassette, just in case I needed a few extra gears to keep a higher cadence. On race day, this might prove to be a problem...
At the top of the hill, I stopped one more time to verify where I was, finding myself back in the town that had given me grief the first time around, and then was able to finally pick out the proper route through it to continue along the race course and down the screaming fast descents. I had very little problem with the first one, being no unlike the descent down Mt. Scott, which I've done countless times now... but that second 360 one worried me, especially given that it came out onto some very patchy road...
I finally made it back to transition a second time and swapped out my cycling gear for my running gear, planning to also pre-run the run course and do a couple of strides.
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| At least the swag is pretty sweet |
Once again, I found myself hopelessly, irrevocably lost.
Damn that fucking map.
I added so much distance trying to find that course that I thought for sure it was a 3 mile loop (it was not, as I found out on race day). By the end I was so frustrated I was almost in tears. This is right where another friend, Colleen, an Okie this time, found me and explained the route to me (by trial and error it sounded like I had hit most of the points on it), and then I finally ran into Kirsten and Dan and poured out my morning's frustrations and explained everything to them! They laughed and sympathized, helped calm me down, and told me to meet them for the pre-racing meeting in an hour and then dinner.
By the end of the day I was feeling frustrated, upset, and completely out of my depth. I contemplated what the hell I was doing there and if I was really ready. Nobody else seemed to have all the problems I did. Everybody else was comfortable. I didn't even know what to do with all these numbers I had been given in my race packet! Tatoos? Multiple helmet numbers? Bib numbers with sticky tack? HALP!
But over dinner Dan and Kirsten took the time to talk me through everything and calm me the fuck down. I realized that I was foolish to think I would be the only one riding the bullhorns on those descents. They were fast. Everybody would be needing to break, especially in that tight, tight corner. This somehow helped me stuff down the fear in my head, and gave me more confidence for race day morning.
I spent the rest of the night laying out my equipment and prepping it all for the A.M. I was sleep deprived, given my late arrival and early wake-up, and would need to wake earlier still for the race. I laid down as early as I could and fought the butterflies in my stomach to sleep.
Part Three
Prep
At 5 A.M. I wake up, power down some coffee and my Breakfast of Kings (Sprout's whole wheat English muffins, a banana, and some almond butter), and head over to the race course. Kirsten was set to go in the very first wave, Dan in the third, while I had an entire hour to wait between the transition area close and the 5th and final wave start. I met a very friendly Minnesotan while getting my bike prepped in transition, who helped me band-aid my favorite mint chocolate Gu to my bike top tube, and headed out to clear my head, give Kirsten a hug, and warm up.
My legs, which had spent all week recovering from my final hard workouts, were blissfully feeling peppy again. My calves had been agitated all week, and I found myself in compression socks just to get comfortable enough to walk around. But this morning, everything seemed okay muscle wise, and I took it as a good sign... until my race belt decided to fall apart in the middle of a stride. I knew if I lost my number in this race, I was screwed. There would be no second chances on this. I managed to snag it back together and hoped for the best, rotating the belt around me so my hand could constantly check on the security of the race belt at the connection point.
As I headed to the starting gate, the gnawing in my stomach worsened. I had never felt so nervous pre-race in my life. I thought for sure I was going to hurl. I looked at all the women lined around me. They were all my height or taller, slimmer, and looked like they were serious runners. I saw almost no one with my curvier build or more muscular legs. I began to panic, thinking once again that I was completely out of my depth and that there was no way I could compete against these ladies. Who was I to think that I could?!
I took in a deep breath. Exhaled. And did it once more. A thought entered my mind, "Just run your race." I reminded myself that I had trained for this. Everything else was out of my control now. If my coach believed in me, I could believe in me. Just run your race, do what you came here to do, and that's it.
The Race
RUN 1
The race director rang a cowbell, and we were off, trailing behind some roller derby girls who I guess were there to set us off in style. Or so I assume. Once the race began, I never saw them again.
It was the weirdest feeling starting semi-close to the front, and then having nearly the entire field go Whoosh! around me.
I mentally cursed and checked my watch. Here I was, holding a slightly sub-7:00 min/mi, which was stellar for me, and I was getting dusted. Nevermind, I thought again, thinking once more to just run your own damn race. As I rounded the first out-and-back cone and headed toward the island, I noticed that there were some ladies in offical USAT kits actually a little behind me. That gave me hope. I would be wearing that kit soon, and if I could hold them off here, maybe I was cut out for this after all. I completed the loop on the island, which gave plenty of opportunity to look around and assess my position, and then ran back towards the start/transition, only to realize to my deep chagrin that I had just finished 1.5 mi. There was a second loop! I hadn't discovered this in my "pre-run" of the course. I followed the flow of women back around to complete the circuit a second time. The pace of those who started out too hard was finally slowing, and I was actually beginning to pass some women.
I hurt. I could tell I was running my 3k faster than normal, and I could feel it, but I knew I wasn't doing anything so crazy that it would render me unable to ride my bike. Finally passing some ladies was giving me a much needed mental boost, and I managed to stay strong, ultimately finishing with just over a 7:00 min/mi.
T1
Transition was looong, and on grass, which I knew would slow my pace down. As I approached I mentally ticked off each task I knew I had to complete: Slam on helmet. Check. While actually taking off shoes simultaneously. Check. Grab bike. Check.
Only the grabbing of the bike was not exactly like I practiced, and it momentarily threw me for a loop. It sounds silly, but I didn't practice actually racking my bike on a rack, just leaning it against a garage door. So the act of lifting my bike off the rack and onto the ground actually made me stumble for a moment. I had also forgotten to turn my helmet over, so mentally that briefly tripped me up, too, as my brain had to switch on from auto mode to tell my fingers where to go for the buckle.
Nevertheless, I had a fairly good transition time overall, really good for me considering, and ran out, pausing just once to re-adjust my pedals for a quick mount (apparently someone had also moved my bike to face the other way and my pedals were now 180 degrees off).
I hopped on to my shoes, socks on top and everything (!), and pedaled off, pausing my pedaling only twice to slide my feet quickly into my shoes and secure the loop before I hit the hill climb.
BIKE
The first climb was almost immediately out of transition, right after a right hand turn in the road. I stayed strong on it, reminding myself that despite some of this year's performances, hill climbing was generally my strong suit, and a great opportunity to dig in on the rest of the field. To my delight, I started passing woman after woman, all those same skinny runners with their skinny legs (I really have nothing against them, except during a race), and I knew I was good.
Just like every duathlon I've ever done before this point, I was gonna rock it on the bike.
Starting out in the final wave of racers meant that there were also plenty of other riders on the road, which turned out to be very, very motivating and also very much a challenge. The race officials had made clear how serious they were about passing other riders. If you got within 3 bike lengths of another rider, you had to pass. If another rider began passing you, you had to soft pedal and let them come around. If you didn't ride to the right enough, you would be penalized.
Apparently some of the men on the road did not, in fact, appreciate being passed by a woman. I went back and forth with one fella till he finally realized he did not have the strength to stay with me. There was another male who passed me down the treacherous 360, only to slow and forced me to crank up my power to re-pass him. He quickly came zooming by me after, and I was very much relieved when he kept his power up this time and sped off in the distance.
I felt no fear on those descents. The first descent really did feel like Mt. Scott, and I grew so confident on it that on the second and third time, when there were gradually fewer competitors on the road, I actually stayed in my aerobars. On the twisty 360 I stayed low, gripped the brakes, and still allowed myself to drop as quickly as possible. I actually passed a couple riders here myself, despite the very narrow road. And I felt confident on that bumpy road leading back to transition. I had realized yesterday that unlike almost every rider there, I was used to equally bumpy, pot-holey roads by virtue of living in Oklahoma. In fact, my normal TT road was just like this, and I could take the jostling without getting out of position. I remembered a post Mr. Jack Mott had placed on his blog, Aeroweenie, and tried my best not to turtle and assume a position that I knew would make him proud. I wish I had a photo. I think he woulda liked it.
By the end of the second loop, I knew I had caught up to the race leaders. On the third and final loop, there was virtually nobody left on the road. I passed only two more riders, one female while heading up the final climb, and another in the penultimate descent. I checked my power. It was still good. Slightly lower than I would normally see in a du, but I attributed that to the large amount of downhill riding more than anything.
T2
As I came around to dismount I spotted Dan and Kirsten cheering me on from the side of the road. I did my running dismount, hoping I made them proud, and headed onto the grass in transition. Paused again momentarily, the act of having to re-rack my bike now throwing me, then put my body on auto as I went through the process of removing my shoes and helmet and heading out.
And then complete and utter dread hit me. Oh my god, I thought, I don't think I can run!
RUN 2
Never have I felt this shitty before. I swore my hips had been replaced by cinder blocks. My right calf was firing, or mis-firing, rather, and my left Achilles's was talking.
I swore. Just 3 friggin' miles to go! I kept pushing. Kept pushing. This time, a new mantra entered my brain, You didn't come here for nothing! You came here to win! Or, well, maybe not win, but place top 15! Just fucking run! Grind yourself into a fucking hole and run!
And I did. The lady I passed on the hill eventually caught me in the first lap of the run and we both yelled at each other about how much we hurt. As I rounded the first out-and-back, I noted how far away the other competitors were behind me. There was one coming in on me hard, a chick in official USAT gear whom I had passed on the descent, who I knew would be a problem. But the others, I just miiight be able to hold off.
I was in so much pain that by the end of the first loop, I began to doubt that I would have to do a second one. No, I became sure of this! The second run was surely shorter! But just to check, I hollered out at my teammates who had relocated to watch me run, and Kirsten yelled back that no, in fact, I had to run the loop second time. Dammit. When will this end?
On the second loop on the island I could hear USAT coming up on me, and she eventually passed me just over a 1/4 mi to the finish. Dan was standing right there at the gates cheering, and I tightened up my form and threw my legs into the best kick I could muster and tried to finish strong. I ended up completing that second 5k in the time it normally took me to do my first 5k.
Huzzah.
Wrapping Up
I crossed that line so wrecked that I had to lean myself onto the volunteer while she tried to take my ankle bracelet off me. I chatted with some other competitors, who were all quite wonderful people, really, and then eventually found Kirsten and Dan and we made our way over to the table where they print off your finishing place and results of each leg.
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| This little slip of paper says it all |
It wasn't until Dan pointed out to me that that little "3" on that piece of paper meant that I had podiumed. Podiumed! I was floored. I truly had hoped for Top 15. This was way, waaay beyond what I was expecting.
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| Winnars! |
Turns out I was standing in a group of winners. Kirsten won her race with flying colors, as did Dan. By this point, Kirsten was a duathlon racing vet, but this both Dan's and my first national-level appearance, we were both beyond pleased that we had wound up medaling on our first venture out.
Much to everyone's delight, we realized after scouring the results that both Kirsten and Dan had both won Overall Master's categories, too! Kirsten had just missed it last year, so she was thrilled. And I thought it was incredibly cute to see this married coupled podium together, both win their AG together, and both win Masters together. Well done, Chapmans! So incredibly proud of both of you :) Ya'll could not be more deserving.
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| Yup. This is the best shot I got. My field was apparently not interested in their 15 seconds. |
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| See that 3? Third AG, baby! |
And after this weekend, I officially went from 13th to 3rd in the nation in my AG (age group - the non-elite division I compete in). I also snagged an official spot at the Duathlon World Championships in Spain of next year. In the words of Bender Bending Rodriguez, "Oooooh, yeahhhhh....."
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| Winner winner big fat French dinner comin' my way... |
THANK YOU
I dearly, dearly want to thank absolutely everybody who has helped me out thus far, especially the individuals below! Without their help and sacrifice, I would never have had the confidence to get here. They are all as much as fault for this as my own crazy self.
- First and foremost, my dear husband... I can't even begin to describe the number of things he's done to help me out, but his support has always been constant, and unwavering, and he is the number one reason why I was even at this event. I'm not sure that everyone knows what it takes to support an athlete, even an amateur one like myself, but it's a lot! He celebrates with me and laments with me and believes in me even when I don't. He never compains. He's my champion and he's awesome and I love him to bits.
- My coach, Mark. I probably pepper him with texts just about every day of the week, and whether or not he wants it he's always gracious and and answers my questions. He knows how to push me (really, really push me), but also when exactly to pull back, and I've learned time after time to just trust in his training. He gives me support and feedback and high fives whenever I need it. He's truly an awesome coach and lives up to that term and I'm grateful for all his help.
- My teammate Kirsten, who has been a good friend and mentor ever since I joined the Wheelmen. She's the one who pushed me into this whole crazy business in the first place! I can't even count the number of things she's taught me and helped me through, both in cycling and duathlon and running and even coffee! And she's a total frickin' badass. 5 time National Duathlon Champion, Master's Duathlete of the Year, Oklahoma State cycling champion in several disciplines... her resume is impressive, but so is her heart.
- Dan, who is almost like a second coach and mentor, not to mention the best damn fitter ever. He geeks out over fitness science even more than I do, and is always happy to lend a hand to help with issues and discuss the merits of this position vs that forever with me. He shows no mercy when you train together, but you will always learn something new. This was his first Duathlon Nats, too, and we got to go on that journey together, and practice and stress out just the same... and he is also now a friggin' badass and National Champion, too, just like his wife! So cute.
- Joanna and Sarah. C'mon. You guys are awesome girlfriends and I'm truly lucky to have you. Thanks for dealing with my mass of texts all the time. And answering random questions. And reading books. And coffee. And Wednesday night TT practice. And Friday night wines.
- My friends at the bike shops, like Marty at Schlegel Bicycles, who always drops EVERYTHING to help me out, even on very last minute requests, and the crew at District Bicycles, who also do the same damn thing for me even though I live a city away now and even loaned me out the bike box for airplane travel yet again. My heart is still in Stillwater, and you are part of the reason why.
- The support of the rest of my Tulsa Wheelmen ladies, Helene, Lynna, and Tori, whose words of encouragement mean so much.
- My brother and sister, who get stupid excited over everything and were willing to do whatever it took to help me go to Worlds when they found out I qualified for Austrailia. And are generally some of my best friends and awesome crew.
- Everyone else, including my family (mom, dad, mom-in-law, dad-in-law, brother-in-law), extended family, aunts, uncles, and dear friends, Facebook friends, spin community, Stillwater community, OKC peeps, Tulsa peeps, etc., etc., who support me in countless little and big ways every single day.
To all of you guys, I want to extend a tremendous THANK YOU. I love you all. You make it possible.
To Adelaide!!!
And then Spain!
Coolest finishing results page ever.
Addendum...
How to celebrate when you're exhausted
By the time I had cleaned up after the race, eaten lunch, and attended the awards ceremony, I was beat. My friend Sarah had texted me and told me to go out and celebrate. I texted her back saying I was so tired that I would be lucky if I left my hotel room! Turns out I was right :) A quick question to the concierge at the DoubleTree and I learned that not only could I have some local pizza delivered directly to my room, but I could have wine or beer as well! THANK YOU MINNESOTA!
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| No I did not drink or eat all that. But I enjoyed the hell outta the parts I did. |
I ordered a double mushroom pizza from Black Sheep, then called up the liquor store they suggested and asked them to pick me out some local brews. A perfect night in!
Plus the leftover beers made for great bribes for the mechanics at Gear West, who were kind enough to pack up my bike last thing on Monday morning so I could go out and ride around St. Paul on Sunday. A real win-win-win.
Have a free day in St. Paul?
If you're ever in St. Paul with a bike, I suggest that you go out and ride around on the Grand Round Scenic Byway. The map from the city is thankfully very easy to read, and aside from occasionally pausing to double check which streets were coming up on the route, I never had to stop and check where the hell I was. The entirety of that route is on bike trails, marked bike paths, or designed bike routes throughout the city. And the views are astounding.
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| Ok, this is just road, but it at least shows the great bike trails throughout the city. I was the most aerodynamic person ever to travel at 12 mph here. |
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| Portapots on route? Yes please! |
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| Doesn't even begin to capture the madness |
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| Little kids show off their BMX skillz cuz why not? |
After my bike ride and a spot of yoga, I found my way to the Grand 'Ol Day Festival. I've been to plenty of street festivals before, but nothing like this. The crowds were ginormous, and I found myself walking miles just to get from one end of the festivities to the other.
There seems to always be plenty happening around that town, and extended time in St. Paul turned into a very pleasant day trip. Thanks to USAT for choosing such a cool host city. Looking forward to my time in Bend.
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