Mooseman Race Report: A Little Rusty

I've been dragging my feet about writing this race report, cause I just didn't know what to say. The race was really tough, mentally more than physically, and I haven't really figured out what went wrong.

I read several tri blogs, and I was reading this race report from the Boise 70.3, and it made me feel a bit better. I have a lot of respect for Ray, the author, and his experience is a good reminder that some races just don't as planned, even for rockstars like Ray.

So what happened? Well, I think it was a combination of things: cold water, lack of taper, and just mentally out of it.

The water was a chilly 58 degrees, and I just didn't feel like I was moving. No gliding, my muscles just didn't feel like they warmed up. I've since done another open water swim, and it reminded me that swimming open water feels slower than pool swimming. Because you can't see the bottom, you don't get the visual feedback on your speed. Swim was still about 3 minutes off where it should have been.

Out on the bike, I continued to be cold, and I just didn't feel like I had anything to give, like wringing a dry towel, nothing coming out. Every time I asked my legs for a little more, they were already maxed out. I think this had to do with the fact that I did a tough kettlebell set a few days before, and my legs hadn't recovered.

I usually think of the swim as setting a good precedence for the race. I can start strong and feel good coming out of the water. Without that, my mindset on the bike was grim. I kept thinking about pulling out of the race. My body wasn't responding the way I wanted it to, and I wasn't sure if that was a time when I should be "listening to my body" or pushing through. In the end I decided that I only get 6 races this season, it would be a shame to not finish one.

In the end, I came 6th in my age group out of 30+ competitors. All things considered, that's not so bad. It's not good enough to qualify for nationals (which had been my benchmark), but not bad for a day when things didn't go to plan.

Probably the highlight of the weekend then, was the following day, when I got to be the biker leading around the first place female runner on the half ironman course. It was inspiring. She held a solid 6:15 pace for the whole half marathon with a 100+ cadence the whole time.

After the race, I was riding my bike back to the cabin and passing people still coming in off the bike course. I got many waves and smiles, as people thought that I had actually won the race. Not this time, folks.

Mooseman Race Plan: Testing the waters

In 24 hours, I'll be putting my gear in transition, but for right now, I'm a bit of a wreck. I usually swim on Friday mornings, but last night at 10:30 as I was still desperately trying to get everything packed for the weekend, I decided a sleep in would be more beneficial to my race. Of course my nerves wouldn't allow for that, so I woke up at 5:45 and decided instead of tossing and turning, I'd put my consciousness to good use and write my race plan.

I can look at this early morning wake up as a good way to keep my body on schedule: it will mean it's easier to get up at 5:30 tomorrow morning. Or I can look at it half empty: I only got 7 hours of sleep. How this sleep schedule will impact my race is yet to be determined.

This seems to be a theme going into this race. My off season has been different this year, and until I race tomorrow, I won't know whether the changes I've made will pay off.

This year, I ran more, biked less, did not injure my shin, nursed my knee back to health, caught cold after cold, and added kettlebells to improve my posterior chain and power. And until just now, I thought that translated to many fewer hours, but here's the numbers.

Since December, average hours per week: 5.02
Last month's average hours per week: 5.95
2010 average hours per week: 6.09
May, 2010: 9.01

Here's what this says to me. I did 50% more hours per week in May of last year (remember, I was training for long course), but I have actually trained more consistently this year than last. That's not so bad.

Comparing the breakdown, this month (The crosstrain this past month is kettlebells):

May 2010:
It feels like I've been riding less, because I have been riding less. Even if I count all of my brick time to cycling, I'm not coming close to hours I was putting on the bike last year. Again, long course training and injured shin explain a lot of this difference. But still a lot to wonder about going into race day.

My only indication that this new strategy is going to pay off, was at track last night. My coach asked me to run 6x200 on 37 seconds. This sounded ridiculously fast to me. My last 400TT was 1:22. But I thought, eh, I'll just give it a go, see how close I can come. I ran them consistently between 36 and 38 seconds. Compare this to 4 months ago, running indoor track 200s on 41 seconds. Yeah, that's news I can use.

So, back to this race, here's the schedule:

• 5:30am wake up, eat oatmeal, get ready, check tires
  
• 6:00 head over to transition, get racked, sunscreen
  
• 6:50 go on a 15 minute warm up run
• 7:15 put shoes back in transition
• 7:30 eat a gu, get in the water, have the wind knocked out of me, take a few brave strokes
• 7:46 start racing
• Swim hard out of the gates, then settle into a good temp, take it up again for the last 200
• Do my new mount onto the bike. Use the first 4 miles to spin the legs up. On the first hill drop to small chain, keep cadence up. On devil's hill, small chain again. Gu. Go hard on the bike every stroke - average speed of 19 is the goal. Drop into small chain again for the long hill before turn onto Cass Mill Rd, and for the rollers afterwards. On West Shore Dr, drop a gear or two, spin the legs up. Do my new dismount. (drink the whole bottle of heed)
  
• Get that cadence up on the run immediately. This about the sound of Lauren's feet. Gu. Drink as necessary. At the turn around, take the pace up, one gear.
• Finish strong.
  

Well, that's it. Time to see if all this work is gonna pay off.

More lessons from the other side of racing

First, a follow up on the earlier Mooseman post: I came in 27/64 in my age group. Ok, not great. There's some stiff competition in these parts. Here are a few more shots from the official race picts:


Looking aggressive on the bike, though that helmet looks really far back.


I think I like Matt's picture (from the first post) better for what it's worth.

And finally, oh yeah, I caught that guy. Final time was 1:44.

Moving on. On Sunday, Natalia and I volunteered for the Mooseman 70.3. We weren't thrilled going into it: it rained ALL day, but we went, and once there, we really enjoyed it. We were stationed in the transition area along with roughly 30 high school volunteers. Now I appreciate that the school has this program, but honestly, these kids were just in the way. None of them had ever done a tri or had any idea what would be helpful to the athletes. Most were put to work standing out of the way and cheering on the athletes as they ran through. Talia and I stationed ourselves in the middle of the transition area. We helped people locate their racks, sprung into action when a rack collapsed, untangled jerseys and were scandalized by some people's lack of modesty. Again, several lessons to take to my next tri:

• Never try to put on anything that is not loosely fitted in transition. You're wet. At this race, these items were wet, they just won't be easy to get into. Vests work well. Arm warmers should be swum in or avoided (or possibly rolled, so they're easy to unroll - though I didn't see any one attempt this)
• Don't try to get food into your pockets in transition. Do this beforehand. If you're putting on a vest, have them stashed. Use a bento box or swim with them.
• Know where the porta-potties are. We saw one athlete, run back over the mats and out to the spectator loos. I don't know what happened to his time, but it couldn't have been good.
• If you're going to sit down to put on shoes, have a place to do it. We saw one 3-legged camping stool and several buckets and milk crates used for this purpose.
• Flip or cover your shoes to prevent rain from pooling in them.
• Practice entering and exiting transition. I was surprised at how many pros didn't know where their racks were. It's not enough to just generally know where the exit is, actually practice.

Finally, although other race management folks got to ride around in this, we never got to, and I'm still bummed.

Mooseman Race Report or rolling with the punches

Which is safer riding or walking my bike through a thunderstorm? Well, the tires are rubber, so I'm not grounded when I'm riding, but I am soaked to the bone, so that probably doesn't matter. The frame is carbon, so it shouldn't be attracting the lightning right?

These are my thoughts as I pedaled my way to transition on Saturday morning for the Mooseman Olympic distance. The race did not go according to anyone's plans. We awoke to massive thunderstorms at 5am. At 7am they canceled the swim and postponed the race til 9, and I pedaled back to our little cabin. At this point, I felt very much on the fence as to whether or not I should bother with this race. The ride was cut down to 17 miles because a portion of the course had been washed out, and no swim at all meant my ability to practice my race routine was pretty much out the window. There's a part of me that wants to throw in the towel, promise myself I'll go for a ride later that day and go back to bed. And plenty of people did just that. But here I was, all ready to race with nowhere to go. I thought about my friend Natalia. You remember her, right? Well she's been struggling since the half marathon with injury. Her foot hurts to put weight on, the inside of her shin has been acting up, then on Friday the outside started to ache too, and she was just bummed. And rightfully so, being injured sucks. But despite this, she rallied to come out to Mooseman with the plan of making it a swim-bike for training purposes (she even left her sneaks at home, so she wouldn't be tempted.) I thought about Talia, and then I thought I've got two weeks til this half ironman, and giving up on things is not going to get me across the finish line.

Back out to the course we go! Screw my nutrition, let's use this race to get mentally prepped. Out on the bike things feel pretty good. I'm even holding a much faster pace than in practice. I make it up devil hill, passing two guys walking their bikes, and I pass my friend Audrey on the way to the turn on 3A. Feeling good. Then she passes me back. Hmm, this will never do. I know she will clobber me on the run, so I need to put in a good effort on the bike. I pass her back. OK, sweet, no wait, here she comes again. Goddammit, Audrey. I actually say this to her as I pass her one final time. Then I focus on racing, looking over my shoulder every now and then to see if she's making another move. I pull into transition cleanly.

After some brief confusion over some one else's bike being in my rack ("just put your bike anywhere," yells a volunteer - yes, that's what got us in this mess in the first place). I'm out on the run. My goal here is to mentally prep for the half. It's just about half of the distance of the run I'll face in two weeks, so let's treat it like that one. I go out thinking about, just turning my legs over, keeping good form, not pushing it. I start picking people off. I also start using the techniques I learned at the marathon to get water, and it works terrific. Audrey passes me on her way back, and I realize she passed me in transition. Boo. But I keep in mind this is about mental prep. At mile 5, I feel pretty good. Bit of a cramp in my right calf, but otherwise feeling good. It's time to ramp up this cruisey pace. I think about my tuesday night track practices. It's just four more laps. Go! I pick people off. A friend snaps this great picture as I run by the BTT tent.


I feel great. I look great (check out that left elbow, Ali - it is so far back!) I pass one guy, who had the gall to pass me back in the winding paths around transition that lead to the finish. On the last turn, I pull up next to him and say "Come on!", but he looks back and says "Go!" So I do, I pass him and sprint, yes, all out sprint to the finish. Damn. That felt great. I ran a 51 minute 10K. That's pretty close to my all time PR. This is making me think that my goal of breaking 50 minutes may be attainable this season if I do a 10K alone. Sweet.

The following day, Natalia and I volunteer in transition for the half ironman. I'll post more details later, but here's the super awesome t-shirt I got from the ironman tent. I mean really - it's math AND triathlon, has there ever been a more perfect t for me?

Race planning

It's here. The Mooseman Olympic distance is tomorrow. I'm using this race as a run through for the Patriot Half in two weeks. This means I'll be doing things a bit differently to the way I would normally race an Olympic, like wearing real bike shoes instead of tri shoes, bike gloves, eating solid food. My transitions may be a little longer, but I think the practice should be worth it. I've got plenty of other Olympic distances to really race on.

Here's the plan:

• 5am wake up, eat half a cup of oatmeal, drink a spark, braid hair
• 5:30 head to the course, register, rack, sunscreen, etc
• 7am warm up
• 7:30 first gu
• 7:46 start swim
• Transition to bike - sunnies, gloves, socks, shoes, helmet, bike, clif bar and additional gu in bento box, NUUN water bottle
• Eat half of clif bar after devil's hill
• Eat gu at turn for Cass Mill Rd
• Transition to run - runners, number belt, visor, one gu in pocket
• Eat gu on way out
• Drink water from aid station
• Finish race like a rockstar!

I'm still a little nervous about the nutrition, but this the time to test it out, work out any last minute kinks. Any suggestions?

Mooseman Recon or "I'll see you at the top"

My first race of the season is just 2 weeks away: the Mooseman Olympic distance. This weekend my team went up to Bristol, NH for the day to try out the race course. I rode the Olympic course twice to get in a nice 54 mile ride and followed that up with a painful (though not in the usual spots- shins felt ok) 30 minute run. Here's what I learned:

• This course is awesome. Rollers immediately, followed by the "Rhythm Section" (relatively flat, but bumpy roads), then undulating newly paved highway, and finally more rollers.
• There is one BIG hill aka "Devil Hill" but it's short, so yeah, you've gotta go in your granny gear, but it's only for a minute or two
  
• Trying to find landmarks to identify hills that I'll need to downshift on was hard. OK, after the cabin with the boat in the front yard, or how about the summer camp, or maybe the boulders. Oh hell. In the end I think I'll just downshift when the hills look big.
• I don't go fast downhill. My coach joked that I needed to put on a little more weight, but honestly, it's not the weight, it's the brakes that slow me down. I just get nervous. Repeatedly on Saturday, I'd get dropped as people sped past me on the downhill, only to catch back up on the uphill. I guess that's a good thing.
• As the morning progressed more riders showed up which gave the course much more of a race feel with people to pass/ be passed by. I felt good going into the last 20 miles, so I pushed it and averaged 17.1 for both loops. Nice.
  
• I'm now wondering about my half ironman (in 4 weeks). If the course is not truly dead flat, like Busso, and is more similar to this course, maybe I will be able to really "race" on the bike and not just hold pace. The question is how hard can I go on the bike and still finish the run.