Chris Mohr Cedar Point Half RR (first half)
Race report: Cedar Point 70.3
It is a bad plan that will not tolerate modification.
-Roman proverb
This was my first half-iron distance race, and my first race in 2 years. I joined EN last year, and followed the short course plan up until a month before my A event, when I fell off of my bike and separated my shoulder. The season ended. Over the winter, I put off the start of the OS till 1 January, and then promptly caught a chest infection that threw the whole winter off. The weight came back on, and even the OS as executed might as well have been coming off of the couch. It had been 2 years since my last race, and I thought to myself--”Either commit to this sport, or sell your tri bike and just be a recreational rider.” So I talked it over with my wife, and signed up for cedar point.
I had definite goals for this race and based on my numbers, I had hoped for a much faster result. Once it started, the goal was to finish--not to beat a time. There is a big difference between the trainer, the pool, and even a race rehearsal, and the day itself. Training shows you how to race, but racing also shows you how to train.
Pre-Race
We arrived on Saturday at around noon, checked into the hotel, and went to the park. The prior day’s weather (fri and Sat AM) had been stormy and rainy, but by five-ish it was clear. They were still finihsing up marking the bike course. I drove the race course, picked up some applesauce, water, etc. The start wasn’t till 8:40, and I got a good night’s sleep on Friday so I figured rest longer than five hours was a win.
It was Friday at around sunset when I first saw the marked swim course (most of it) and thought to myself “Where is the turn buoy?”. It was a little red dot out on the horizon. Two thousand meters is not intimidating in the pool. It’s much more intimidating in a lake, and it totally psyched me out.
The morning went more or less as planned: up at five, applesauce and whey protein (3 cups; 1 scoop); coffee, off to transition. Went to set up my area, then came back to the hotel for one more visit to the bathroom, then put on my wetsuit. Mistake number one: only one OWS all season, and none in the body condom. Although the suit did not chafe, it felt restrictive across the chest. In hindsight, that was not an encouraging sign.
After I got the suit on, I got a good look at the water. Folks were body surfing in the lake, and the buoys still looked really far. The wind was blowing into shore steadily. The full distance folks were gone, we walked out to the line for a standing water start, and they blew the horn.
The Swim
The course is an out, turn right, turn right back to shore in Lake Erie. I lined up off to the side and towards the back--promising myself I was not going to rush. (Definitely kept that promise). I’d read a lot about panic attacks, but never had one. Within a hundred yards, I felt like the wetsuit was pushing the air from my chest, and I was fighting over the top of the waves.
“Can’t breathe.
“ How the hell am I going to swim this?”
“Is there any way to get this suit off?”
“This happens. It passes. Relax.”
“Just make it to the first turn buoy. Then decide if you quit. It took too much work to get here to quit now.”
The fear took a long time to pass. Those first 650 meters or whatever it was took FOREVER. I would swim, hyperventilate, stop, look up, resight, and swim again. When I went over the top of the waves, I would often find that my head would pop out and get slapped down into the water, resulting in tasting Lake Erie. It’s not like the swim was crowded--it was well run. Enough people around to find feet, or do it solo (I went with the latter).
Eventually, it got better, but I could not help thinking “this is taking a LOT longer than it should.” One buoy at a time. Finally, I managed to relax and felt better. When I got to the final turn, I could feel the wind and the waves pushing me towards shore and it was a welcome feeling.
Afterwards, I would find out that it was a 2-4 foot swell, and that it was neither typical for this race nor easy by the standards of others who’ve done these races. There were also a number of people that got pulled out--according to my wife, the jet skis were busy. Still-Rev3’s staff did a great job out there.
http://forum.slowtwitch.com/forum/Slowtwitch_Forums_C1/Triathlon_Forum_F1/Rev3_Cedar_Point_the_hardest_swim_Ive_done_P5239957
When I could finally stand and began walking out, I knew that the best laid plans had all gone to hell. I didn’t have that beat-up feeling, but I was a lot more tired than I should have been. Wife and kids were at swim exit, looking relieved.
Actual Time: 1:04
Goal time: 40 min.
What to do next time:
Not sure. You can’t train for water like that except by doing it. Swim coaching might be in order if for no other reason than to build confidence.
T1:
Nothing special. Used the wetsuit strippers, made sure I had everything, and got on the bike and took off. Could have been faster, but I wasn’t terribly concerned. It felt fast.
Time: 5:38.
The Bike
The problems with the swim rippled through. The plan was to drill 190 watts, and never crack 210 after warming up. I could tell almost immediately that that number was not on the table. My stomach was bloated, I was nauseous, and every so often I would have to stand up to let fly the a-- trumpet. I tried to hold it below 170 while my stomach settled down, and then began to eat and drink. In training, I had had no problems digesting shot bloks. They were OK initially, but after two hours I had a really hard time getting them down--even with gatorade or perform. I began to lose count of the calories (a bad sign), but never really felt tired and felt like I was holding things relatively steady.
Eventually, I began to pass people. The bike course was awesome. Great pavement for the most part, no traffic, cops at every intersection, perfect weather, country roads. Enough hills to screw you up, but nothing monstrous. It was funny--there’s one climb of any real severity (and it’s pretty short), and made sure that I dropped down below 210 to get up it. The folks on the side were cheering “you can do it.” I laughed and waved. While nowhere near as fast as I’d hoped, I felt like I was executing. At only five miles to go, I was ready to up the effort just a little until…
Twinge.
Twinge.
Cramp.
Right inner thigh begins to seize up. I wasn’t tired; in fact, I felt like I could have pushed harder. And I had no cramps in training. (Training ain’t race day). The only thing I could think of was salt. So I unclipped, straightened the leg out, and did a one legged pedaling drill for most of the remaining bike leg.
Time: 3:16
AVS: 17.3
Average power: pre-cramp -- 132
NP: 140
VI: 1.06
TSS:171
Comments: very disappointing, based on my long rides which were approaching 200 watts NP over three hours, and with four times the elevation gain. Never had cramps on those. And although technically over 1.05, I view this as a good effort for a first race. It will get better. I now know how I need to practice my long rides. If there’s a next time, I need to bring salt tabs and go entirely with gels or some kind of liquid for fuel--efs or similar.
T2
I had three thoughts: 1. I need to start running. 2. I really need to pee (held it in on the bike). 3. I need salt. If I don’t get some, day’s over.
Time: 3:38
The Run
At this point, I realized that I had a long way to go, and realized that I had been exercising for well over four hours. I asked for salt tablets, and got pretzels (they had salt at mile 2). I began to feel a bit of fatigue, and thought to myself “hold back--no matter what. Save it for the end.” According to my VDOT, I should have been running 8:30 miles. Again, that was out the window--I was going to do this by RPE. I knew that if I pushed early, I would be done and my goal was to walk the aid stations, and run the rest. Whatever push is left would come at the end. But for this race execution advice, I doubt I would have finished. Those progressive pace runs saved my tail.
Had some pretzels, and began to feel a little better. Although tight, the leg began to loosen up and I felt better. At mile 1, I used the porto (happy to see it) and took 2 salt tabs. The cramp went away. Run, aid station, walk as needed, run again. Took salt occasionally, and gatorade, and had 2 clif shots in my race belt. Should have brought 1 more.
The run through sandusky is pancake flat (dunno that I could have run the whole thing otherwise). It’s a pretty town, but it’s sunday afternoon after labor day, and the joint’s deserted. I had a long time alone with my thoughts, as I was way at the back of the pack. At some point during the run (perhaps mile 7-8), my mind cleared as I began to figure out how I was going to finish this. The family came out to the course to cheer at one point, which was awesome.
The strongest memory I have of the race at this point is a feeling of gratitude--gratitude that I was capable of pushing myself that hard, gratitude for a not too hot day, gratitude for the support of my family. Part of this was no doubt endorphins, but I genuinely believe that when you push yourself in an event like this, you learn something about your character.
The middle miles (6-10) were the most difficult, as they consist of a series of out and backs on side streets. When I got to mile ten, though, I knew I was going to finish. I became sure of it. I picked it up. (Mind you, this is relative.) At the finisher’s chute, I picked up the kids for the last 400 meters and they crossed the line with me.
Time: 2:46
Paces:
Miles 0-6.8--13:09
Miles 6.8-8.3--13:14
Miles 8.3-finish: 11:57
Negative Split.
Overall time: 7:16
Overall Comments.
1. This was, without a doubt, the hardest athletic endeavor I’ve ever done. I still can’t get my head around the folks doing the full who after a 112 mi bike ride had to run to within 200 yds of the finish line, turn around, and run the same course again. Without the advice I got here, I would have been toast. Seven and 1/4 hours is a long time to be out there; I had thought I'd be done in six.
2. I’m still sore, but more tired. My legs have hurt worse. When I was done, I thought “I’ll never do this again.” Now, I’m not so sure--I’ve already identified things that I wanted to do differently. I’m not sure that the family is on board for it, but having built this engine (such as it is) I’m not inclined to let it fall into disrepair. And that feeling I had on the run… there’s nothing like it. Still, a season of short course may be wise just to get more experience. I had just not done enough racing to relax at the start of the swim. That really cost me time all through the race.
3. I am doing a relay with my wife in 2 weeks. Short course--1000 meter ocean swim, and 18 mile bike. Will try to get out this weekend. Not looking forward to the swim. The experience was so stressful that this is the only part of the race that would really keep me from doing another one.
4. I can’t diet and do the build. In 3 months I lost 3 lbs. I raced at 177 (I’m 5’8&rdquo
. College playing weight for lacrosse was 155 or less. I didn’t lose an ounce (though things shifted). It would be better to build for an A race at 163 or so. That’s 30 seconds per mile on the run--free. The next 90 days are dedicated to body comp before the OS. Maybe a course of weight training--I do better with structure.
5. Rev3 puts on a fun event. I loved the pro-family vibe, and their volunteers were awesome. I was out every sat am, and was often too beat to play pickup soccer with the kids. I’d pass on evenings socializing with friends because I had to get up early to hit the bike. The family sacrificed too--why shouldn’t they be allowed to cross the line and share in the fun of the chute? More competitors (slow ones preferably) at an m-dot event would have made for a more crowded course, but I dunno that it would be worth it to lose that family finish.
Comments