Couldn't have happened in a better race

It was bound to happen some time, but Sunday was the first race I've ever flatted in, in eight years of racing.  Not bad odds, really.

I went into this race with no expectations.  It's my first tri of a season that just isn't as tri-focused as years past.  With new home ownership taking up a significant portion of our attention and finances, it's fun to get out there to race, but it's not the priority it has been in years past.  I could race on auto-pilot.  No excessive list making to ensure that I have all my gear.  No pre-race visualization.  I've done this race for the last 4 years.  I know it pretty well.  And I wasn't going to red line it.  I was a little worried going into the race that it would affect my enjoyment, that without indulging my instinct to inspect every calf for an AG on the run, that it would feel more like training than a race.  Fear not, racing is fun regardless of your goals.

Swim:
I was a little late for the start.  I'd filed into the water with my AG, but I expected a warning from the race officials, instead I just got the start horn.  Oh, crap, time to put on my goggles. I hadn't jockeyed for position on the line, so I had a few people to swim through to get to a good spot.  I found some feet about a third of the way through that I hung onto for a bit, til it seemed she wasn't spotting well, then I just made my way home.  I swam about a minute and a half slower than last year.  But then again, I hadn't even checked my results from last year before the race, so I was happy with just feeling good.  And 6th place out of 35 ain't bad.

Time: 26:09 (1:44 pace)
AG: 6 / 35


Bike:
Confession:  I did not do any transition practice before this race.  In fact, I even considered wearing my bike shoes to the mount line.  I know!  Setting up my transition, I figured there's no point in going backwards, and I clipped my shoes in.  Despite the lack of practice, I mounted the bike just fine, and I got a good 30 or so feet when I knew something was not right with my bike. Something was rubbing.  I pulled off.  Yep, flat back tire. It must have exploded in the hot sun during the swim. I could see transition from where I'd stopped. I knew I could take the bike back to the mechanic there and get him or her to change the tire for me, but I also had what I needed to change  it myself.  The only real trouble was that I couldn't turn my bike upside down because all of the water would drain out of my speedfil. Definitely not desirable on a hot day. So bike balanced precariously on my hip, while I pulled out the old tube, replaced it, tucked the tire back into the wheel. Then, moment of truth, I took out my CO2 cartridge and screwed it into the valve. Confession 2: I don't think I've ever used this valve before. I've used other CO2 valves, but this one was untested. And it failed. As soon as I screwed it in, CO2 was spewing through it. I tried to adjust the lever, but it just broke off. Hmmf. That was my only canister and my only valve. So I made the walk back to transition, wheel in one hand, saddle in other, still barefoot.

The first volunteer I encountered gave me a dumbfounded stare when I asked if she could help me find a pump. The second pointed me to the mechanic's tent, which was vacant, including all gear. I asked some people in the coaching tent next to me, but no love. Then I saw a guy pumping up mountain bike tires in the main tent. I dropped my bike (chain in the dirt, eek!) and ran in to get some air. Ok:  gear on bike, wheel on frame, Laura on bike, time to ride. My garmin indicated that the whole thing had only taken 4 minutes. This seemed incredibly fast, but who am I to question garmin?  Not until after the race did I realize that garmin was set to auto-pause on the ride, so when it detected that I wasn't moving, it stopped keeping track of the time. I had actually spent almost 15 minutes changing that tire. I will not be seeking employment at le Tour.

By the time I got back on the bike, all of my advantage from the swim was spent. I was in 35th place in my age group, out of 35. And that was awesome! I got to let my competitive juices flow, catching girls in my age group, but I could stay out of the red zone while doing it. Best unintentional result of a flat, EVER! I passed 19 girls in my age group, which meant I started the run in 16th place.

Time: 1:23:03 (or 1:08:23 without the pitstop - 19.3 mph)
AG Rank: 24 / 35 (or 6 / 35 without the pitstop)

Run:
Goal here was to start moderately hard, then stay moderately hard through the middle and in the final kick, put in a moderately hard effort. That's exactly what I did. I focused on cadence, I walked through water stops, and I slowly picked people off as they burnt out through the back half of the run. Nice and steady, and I picked up two more girls in my age group.

Time: 53:33 (8:38 pace)
AG Rank: 11 / 35

Overall, I came in 14th in my AG with a total time of 2:45:18. Had I not had the flat, I would have come in 9th. A little slower than last year in all regards, but still an excellent race.






Odds and ends:

• There were a TON of flat tires out on the course.  I was very lucky that I didn't get a second one out there since I was riding without a spare
• This race nearly doubled in size this year (perhaps because of its designation as the regional qualifier).  My age group went from 16 last year to 35 this year, and there were some very fast ladies in that addition.  Last year's time would have only been good enough for 7th this year, not 3rd.

It's not about the run

Here's the thing.  On paper, last weekend sounds like it would have been hell:  driving to and from West Virginia, running 21 muddy miles in the fog, camping in the wet with probably 3 dry sleeping bags between the 8 of us, losing the 3 toenails I had loosened at the Marathon in DC, one of our runners spraining a toe and the organizers running out of everything from coffee and hot chocolate to toilet paper.  But the reality was a truly fabulous weekend

Last weekend, I did my first Ragnar Relay.  This was no ordinary Ragnar though, this was a trail ragnar in rural WV.  Unlike the road Ragnars which are point to point, this race centered at the campground, with 3 loops (3.6, 6.2, 6.0), and we each took turns running different legs.

Months ago when we signed up this sounded fantastic, but the weather had other ideas.  It was wet when we got in on Thursday night (after 10 hours of driving), and then it rained more, and then it rained again.  And then the fog rolled in.

Our first runner P, before it started to really rain , note the ground

Our second runner L, before the fog rolled in

By the time I made it out on the run (as the 5th runner), the trails were a mess.  Two different kinds of mud:  sticky and slippery.  Usually the slippery was darker than the sticky, but sometimes, the sticky was hiding under the slippery.  6.2 miles and I averaged 11:40 per mile.  It was tough going.  A little more Any trail running may have been good.  But it was also gorgeous.  When I got back, it was starting to get dark, my shoes were soaked, and I was ready for dinner.

The darker it got, the foggier.  Headlamps only made it worse:  they just lit up the fog in front of your eyes.  Runners started carrying their headlamps in their hands.  Our team opted to have two runners on the trail together and to slow down, like many other teams.  After the first rotation through all 8 runners, we were hours behind where we had estimated (we had estimated about a minute slower per mile than our road 10K times, so maybe we were a little overzealous).

Pretty much captures the whole event, so many muddy sneakers steaming dry by the fire

In the morning the organizers announced that we could get credit for multiple team members running legs together.  We did some quick math and figured we could finish up a little early and get on the road back to New England that day.  It also meant, I would run the 6.0 leg twice with two different teammates.  This was the highlight of the trip for me.  After the first loop, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me, I napped for about 45 minutes, then went back out again.  On the second loop, we caught 22 people, and the fog had finally cleared, so the breathtaking view of the area which had been obscured throughout the rest of the race was finally visible.  It was spectacular.

And that's what made the weekend so great:  just fun people.  Singing at the tops of our lungs along to 80s karaoke in the car, and It'smaking friendship bracelets.

I'd love to do another one of these (though maybe without the drive to WV).  I think the best thing I did in packing was to individually ziplock bag clothes for each of my runs.  I could stash the bag for the next run in the transition area and put on dry clothes on as soon as I returned from the first run.  Also while everything else in my bag got damp, my run clothes were dry when I put them on at least.  Things I wish I had brought:  galoshes.

All done!!!

As expected

Not quite a PR, but geez it was hot.  The first mile felt good, I even held my pace and HR.  Then the second mile happened.  No point in looking at my pace, the rest of the race was guided by HR.

Most because it's been several years since I did a stand-alone 10K, I did actually set a PR.  Still a few more minutes to trim to be a true PR.

This weekend though, instead of PR-ing, I'll be running a trail relay, in the rain, in West Virginia.  Bring on the mud!

Plan C

R and me, pre race

Paul and I stayed the night after the marathon with friends A and C in Virginia.  The day before A asked me if there were going to be tears if I didn't hit my goal.  I told him that I thought there would be tears regardless, but that if I didn't hit Plan A then so be it.

I didn't hit Plan A.  I didn't hit Plan B.  I mostly hit Plan C, with a little bit of D in there too.  You know what the best moment of the race was:  deciding to give up on Plan B, and not just because I allowed myself to hide behind a car for a quick pee.

Corral 6 at the start

I ran Plan A solidly through mile 6.  Then we hit The Hill.

Let's just pause a moment to discuss the courses elevation.  I studied it of course.  But most of these profiles tend to make mountains out of molehills.  All of the profiles below are from mapmyrun.com.  The first one makes it look like you'll need poles to summit that hill, so I consulted the second which shows a max grade of 2% on that hill, not so bad.  Except that the second graph is basically not using a high enough sample rate.  If I zoom in on just the hill, it reveals the 3rd graph AND 7-9% grades!  That hill was a little beast.  My coach had mentioned this hill, but I had brushed it off as only 2%, imagine my surprise when I saw this thing towering ahead of me.  My face was roughly 8% grade purple.

 

 

Back to the plan.  Alan had warned me to not get worried if I fell behind pace on the hill, that I'd make it back up on the downhill.  I ran an 8:45 up the hill, so slower than desired, but I'm not worrying.  I just keep cruising, trying to remain loose.  I clocked my half marathon at 1:45:51, about a minute behind Plan A, and right on Plan B.

The half marathoners pealed off, and it was clear how few marathoners there actually were.  The race was advertised as a 30K person race, but it was actually 20K half marathoners and 3.5K marathoners.  It felt lonely and quiet from there on.  It felt more like a half ironman run.  You've just finished this long athletic endeavor, and now you've got to run 13.1 miles.  It felt like this is where the race really began

My heart rate hadn't recovered from the hill.  I would try to concentrate on running smooth and taking advantage of any slight decline, but it didn't seem to matter.  My heart rate was 180 bpm, and it was going to take drastic action to get it back down to 170 bpm.

I pondered this for a few more miles.  What makes 170 the magic number.  Maybe I could hold onto my pace and my 180 heart rate for 13 more miles.  At mile 15, I tried to focus on seeing Paul at the 20 mile mark.  At mile 17, it was clear:  I was not going to make it at that pace.  I was going to need to return to Plan C:  drop the pace til the HR is back under 170, then maintain that pace.  I thought a bit about whether switching to Plan C was just fulfilling the doubts I had going into the race.  But the numbers didn't lie- I wasn't running Plan A any way you looked at it.  Switching plans didn't feel like giving up.  It was a relief to stop having to decide to not slow down.

At mile 20, I saw Paul.  He had ventured out to give me a light jacket in case it rained (it only just sprinkled, and by the time I saw him, it was sunny and low 50s).  It was so good to see him.  I gave him the "thumbs sidways" sign, panted "Plan C" and kept on trucking.  Heart rate down to 170, pace well into the 9:00s.

Heading to the finish

The last six miles were grueling and boring.  Without a good sense of the area it was hard to know what to anticipate.  Having the race broken into miles (I usually train by time, long runs broken mentally in ~30 minute chunks) only reinforced how plodding it felt.  The course itself had five different out and backs.  The worst one is below.  You run down from the top, over a bridge, and you see runners making the turn off to your left (at the bottom), only to realize there are more runners on the bridge parallel to yours, so you have to go over that bridge, turn around, cross the highway a 3rd time before finally going the way you anticipated.

When I finally approached the finish line, I mostly I just felt tired.  I didn't really feel this overwhelming sense of accomplishment.  It wasn't like the posters.  I was the same person who started the race.  I don't know what I expected exactly, but I guess I expected more than strong desires to 1) find Paul, 2) sit down 3) drink more water, and 4) inspect my toes to figure out why they felt so wiggly (answer below).  Other than feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of navigating the finishing chute maze of food, burrito wrappers, volunteers, water, medals, and runners to find my husband, there was no risk of tears.  In fact I was much more emotional at the start of the race, waiting for my corral to be called, shedding a few nervous, excited tears.  In the end I was just happy to be done.  I felt satisfied, but not changed.

Odds and ends:

• Having dinner with my coach the night before the race was such a treat.  It was fabulous to meet his wife and share a meal with them before my first marathon.
• I've definitely been spoiled by Boston.  This race was sorely under-resourced.  Sure having bands on the course is a unique experience, but you don't really hear much of them.  And the water stops were just chaos.  Some stops had no volunteers, just cups of water set out in advance.  For the mid-to-back-of-the-packers, there weren't even any of those left.  Not cool, Rock 'n' Roll.  Not cool.
• I wore my BTT top and got 3 or 4 "Boston!" cheers.  Those were awesome.
• I relied on my virtual partner for pacing, which didn't work quite the way I had planned.  I ran a slightly longer course (26.5), as you do with other runners and many, many turns.  But even the smallest variation say 1.01 miles instead of 1.00 resulted in a time that was off by a few seconds.  I'd think I was running an 7:55, only to clock in at 8:02 on the mile markers.  Furthermore, I thought that on laps the virtual partner would reset my distance, but it did not.  So I continued to get further ahead of my virtual partner, while in reality getting further behind.  After a few miles, I switched to using average lap pace, which at least reset at each mile.

All done

Well, if you're still with me, I'm assuming this means you want to hear about the wiggly toenails.  If not, then read no further.  When I finished, I had at least one toe on each foot that just felt weird.  Once I found Paul, I removed my shoes to find that I had one toenail on the left foot and two on the right where blisters had formed up under the nail.  I've heard about people losing toenails to long runs, but I've run long and I've never had an issue.  Plus, I always thought that your toenails would turn black or something first, and that the nail was separating from the nail bed.  Well, not in this case at least.  It seems the blister is not between the nail bed and the nail, but between the nail bed and the tissue below.  This means that the nail looks almost totally normal, just a tad bit paler than the other nails, but that it's basically floating on a detached nail bed.  It feels like a loose tooth.  It is bizarre.  It has made putting on socks the most dramatic part of my day.

Operator Error

This year's HR distribution

Well, I didn't run my goal of 1:36.  In fact, I didn't improve on my time from last year.  I ran a 1:42.  Last year's goal.  That's two races in a row that I haven't improved upon.

The thing that most threw me off was that I knew from last year that my watch measured the course a little bit short, but yesterday every mile marker I got to seemed to be further down the road by as much as 10%.  So my watch said I was running a 7:20 pace, but I got to that first marker around 7:40.  It messed with my head.  Were the markers off?  How were they going to catch up?  My grand total distance on my watch was 13.9.  Did they change the course?

Last year's HR distribution

It wasn't until I uploaded my data that I found the problem:  I had neglected to turn the GPS on.  My watch also has a footpod to collect cadence data, so all of my distances and paces were being estimated based on the footpod, not on the actual GPS.  According to my watch, I ran 13.9 miles at a 7:20 pace.  I wonder, had I had the GPS on, if I would have adjusted my pace down to run the 13.1 at that pace?


I somewhat doubt it.  I ran at the top end of my HR zones throughout.  Basically, I ran harder (see graphs), but not any faster.  In general, I feel fitter than I did last year.  A summer of PRs supports this feeling.  And this leads me to think that perhaps I am over-trained/under-rested.  I did race Devil's Chase 2 weeks ago. And, though I did both Devil's Chase and Chilly last year, I was coming off of a less consistent training base from the summer.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.  I want to PR every time, but sometimes, it's just not in the cards.  I will to use this experience as the impetus to review my racing and resting schedules, but I also don't want to read too much into one race.  The plan has been very successful for me in the last year, a little fine tuning is not a bad thing.

Mental over physical

Well, that was... a bit disappointing.  28 seconds slower than last year.  The plan was to run the first 4.5 miles at a hard pace, then increase to very hard and very very hard for the last 2 miles.  I stuck to the plan, but somehow my hard heart rate translated to a 7:44 pace.  This pace felt a little slow.  And I spent those miles watching the competition pass me by, hoping that my increased effort at the end of the race would allow me to catch back up. 

At 4.5, I kicked it up a gear and finally felt like I was moving.  I passed the 5 or 6 people who had passed me in the last mile.  Then I set my sights on a woman who had started with me, but left me in the dust when I tried to maintain my effort level in the first mile.  I slowly reeled her in, and in the last half a mile, I passed 4 more women, so that felt good. 

The end results are that with a slightly slower finish, I had an 8th place in age group (versus 6th last year) out of 272.  I can't really be disappointed about coming in the top 3% of my age group, even if it wasn't the performance I'd hoped for.  This wasn't an A race, and I didn't have A race preparation, taper or mentality going into it.  Having a solid race should be a good result.  My bigger concern is that I have an aggressive goal for the Chilly half of a 7:20 pace.  Averaging 7:29 here does not build confidence.

Much more exciting (and less sulky):  my friend A had a stellar race!  She improved her time by nearly 3 minutes.  That's almost 30 seconds per mile.  She hit her goal and really raced out there today.  So happy for her.

Fairweather triathlete

As the storms rolled in on Friday night, I was reminded of Quassy.  Going into that race, I was completely unfazed, but during the actual ride, I was hating it.  With Duxbury, there wasn't a lot riding on the race, so I actually considered pulling out of the race.

My logic on Friday night, however, was that every other athlete was thinking the same thing, and maybe the fast ladies wouldn't show up, so I was in.  Unfortunately, where this logic fails is that the other fast ladies came to the same conclusion as I did.  When I arrived at the race on Saturday morning, there were some very fast looking bikes making their way through the puddles to transition.

And puddles there were.  The road out to transition had puddles about 8 inches deep.  Transition itself was in a paved parking lot, and my transition area in particular was in a puddle about 3/4" deep.  Try as I might to set down plastic bags to provide a dry spot for shoes and towel, it was not going to happen.  Everything got wet.

As I finished setting up transition, the rain stopped, but the wind started.  I put on my wetsuit and went to hang out in the registration tent to keep warm.  When it was finally time to head down to the water, I huddled up on the shore, shivering, waiting for my wave.  I seriously considered pulling out of the race right then.  I don't think I've ever come so close.  But it occurred to me that I'd just have to wait until the swimmers were all in to get my bike out of transition, might as well race.

The strange part was though, as soon as the my wave started, all those doubts evaporated.  I was racing, and I loved it.  The swim was rough and choppy, but so much fun.  Wasn't my best swim, came out 4th in my AG, but still just fun.

I took a bit of extra time in transition to put on a jacket, and I'm so glad I did.  Then, just as I was about to mount my bike, another athlete rode her bike right into me.  I still don't understand how that happened.  She apologized profusely, but I just stared at her bewildered.  My bike and I were fine.  And then neglected to hit the button on my watch, so my data showed a 43 minute transition, followed by a 3 second bike.

On the run, I stuck to the plan, I was chasing a girl who came out of transition just ahead of me.  She kept her distance for the first mile, but then I slowly started to reel her in, and made the pass on the back half of the course.  My run came in at 21:45, a new PR for the distance. 

Overall 10 seconds slower than two years ago (with a different swim) and only good enough for 4th place on the day.

Looking at my season this year versus last year, the clear improvement has been my running, which I think is a combination of better pacing on the swim and the bike, and just sheer leg speed.

Here's what my percentile rank in AG looked like in 2011:

And here's 2012:

                    
It's good to see how my run rank has improved, and how I didn't blow up in any race this season.  But I've traded a bit with the swim.  However, I think that's more to do with who shows ups.  Now I gotta get working on that bike!

Marriage takes at least 15 seconds off

6am - somewhere between Boston and Freeport

"So, what time is your wave?" - J

"Uh, no clue." - me

Yeah, so this was easily the least prepared for a race that I've been all season.

But somehow despite that, I posted the best time of the season, and I did break the 2:35 barrier.  In fact, I ran a 2:33:53.  Over a minute better than Nationals and almost 7 minutes faster than last year.  But this year, the fast ladies were out:  I placed 4th versus 2nd last year.

Check out the results (I'm in red). Each marker is time check (when the athlete went over a timing mat, i.e., swim, start of bike, end of bike, start of run, finish)

My swim was 25 minutes (2 minutes better than last year), but only good enough for 7th in the swim.  Fast ladies.  But I had the #1 fastest T1, so I passed some one in transition.  

I had the 6th fastest bike (over a minute faster than last year), and passed 2 ladies, putting me in 4th place going into the run.  

I felt great heading out on the run, going up and over that first brutal hill.  Around mile 4, I got passed by the woman who finished 3rd.  She was motoring.  She had the fastest run of the age group.  But shortly thereafter, I passed the 5th place woman, returning me to 4th place.  I ran a 47 minute 10K, 2 minutes faster than last year.

Once again in this race, I didn't check my total time until I hit the finish line.  As I was running through, the clock said 2:53.  I was pretty sure I started 20 minutes after the first wave, but it wasn't til I made it through that J confirmed that I had finished in 2:33.  There were many hugs and high-fives all around.  Then beers and burgers.

This is such an excellent race.   And great to do it back to back years for comparison.  2:33 is serious, and it makes me think that something in the 2:2X might be possible next summer.  One more tri to go this season:  the sprint in Duxbury in two weeks.  Then it's time to focus on running, cause I've convinced myself that it's time to take on 26.2.  Watch out DC Rock n' Roll Marathon.  I've got your number.

Execution

The day before the race felt like Christmas morning:  the anticipation was huge.  I'd like to think my attitude was endearingly exuberant, but Paul might beg to differ.  We each had taken Friday off from work, but I had told him we didn't have to leave until 10am.  I awoke at 7am in a hurricane of activity:

• Went to the park to practice my transitions one last time
• Mounted the bike on top of the car
• Showered
• Finished packing
• Ate breakfast (with coffee)
• Re-watched the relevant portion of the webinar on bodymarking and equipment stickers (I had watched the whole thing earlier in the week along with the full recording of the bike course - what can I say, I like to be prepared.  It paid off:  no fewer than 3 teammates asked me about the location of the race numbers)
• Decided that we needed an audio book for the drive
• Scoured the internet for a book and the car for our FM transmitter dongle (no, our car does not have one of those fancy audio-in ports)
• Decided we were better off with a book on CD
• Looked up bookstores on our route
• Called our local bookstore to discover that they were both open AND had an ample supply of books on CD
• Giddily greeted Paul and offered to go to the bookstore to pick one up before our 10 am departure.

I thought my phone was on its last leg in March when the ear speaker died, but I've soldiered on with it on speaker phone or using headphones.  Last week various portions of the screen became non-responsive, leaving it far less functional than I would have liked.  Standing in the store and trying to look up Amazon reviews for these audio books with a keyboard that would interpret "It's murder, my son" as "Is mrdr m sn" (which even google can't decipher) was the last straw.  I cursed myself for not replacing the phone the day before and vowed to replace it on my return to Boston.  I grabbed a book based solely on its cover and price (always sure signs of quality), and returned home to get Paul at 9:45.  Only to discover that he had already read that book.  So back to the bookstore to exchange for another book.  A book we discovered when we went to play the first disk was 21 hours long.  An inauspicious start, but from there things became much less fraught.

As we neared Burlington, Paul asked me about my goals.  I told him I wanted to execute the plan.  Although I've adopted the practice of writing the relevant power and HR numbers on my gel flasks for races, this one included, I had inadvertently committed this race's plan to memory.  I recited it for Paul.  He pushed back, "Yeah, but what time do you want."  I really didn't have a goal number.  I wanted to break 2:40, I wanted to PR, but anything less than 2:40 would make me happy, particularly if I felt like the race itself had gone well.

Panoramic shot of the swim course

Pre-race with my honey

We made a quick stop at the expo, where Paul scoped out the goods while I waited in line for my packet.  Then got the heck out of there to limit the race hubbub's intrusion on my pre-race calm.  We headed up to the beach for a quick swim, bike and run to refresh the muscle memory.  I'm so glad, I got in the water.  It was choppy, reminiscent of swimming in the ocean north of Brisbane.  Walden just can't prepare you for this.  I convinced myself that because the actual swim was in a protected bay, that this would be worst that I could expect from the actual race.

The only real error in planning on Friday was going to the fabulous Farmhouse Tap and Grill for dinner.  It's just cruel to go to a place with 30 beers on tap and local cheese plates on offer the day before a race.  We returned there Saturday night to fully enjoy their menu.

Race morning, we arrived at transition to sunny skies and WINDY conditions.  There were white caps even within the protected area.  We watched many waves go off and adjusted my sighting plan to account for getting blown around by the wind.  Once in the water, I found feet quickly to follow.  Out to about the halfway point, I was on those feet.  I did my best to find another set, but at some point, I was just out there either by myself or passing men from the wave ahead of me.  But I felt strong.  I came out of the water and hit my watch through my wetsuit (I keep it under my sleeve so I can get the wetsuit off easily), I wouldn't find out the final time until after the race.

GPS of my swim

Swim:
26:59 (1:39 pace, 1:37 faster than last year)
Rank in AG: 37 / 95

The bike was all about being in the moment, hitting my power and heart rate numbers, and not gunning it over the rollers, so I still had legs left for the run.  My coach had admonished me not to get competitive with others in the race to the detriment of my overall time, focus on my plan an execute.  As I got passed by girls in my age group, it occurred to me, I must've had a pretty good swim.  In many races, I narrate the ride to myself:  I'm already writing my race report in my head.  In this bike, there was no chatter, there were numbers to hit, and that water to drink and sometimes gel to take but otherwise, my head was blissfully quiet.  It's the most being-into-a-race that I've ever been, and it was awesome.

In the second half of the bike, I had a little trouble stepping the bike up to a harder effort because of the rolling terrain.  I also had the signal on my power meter go out a few times (I'm thinking a loose wire is the cause, and I'm not thrilled about having to replace it.), but it didn't faze me during the race.  I've done workouts where my power meter's battery has died, and I've still gotten them done.  A little less data wasn't going to impact this race.

Bike:
1:17:56 (19.1mph and 4 seconds slower than last year)
Rank in AG: 66 / 95

Run course elevation

On the way out to the run

This run course starts with a beast of a hill, then is mostly a gentle downhill to the finish.  I had expected that no matter what I did my heart rate would sky rocket on that hill, then I'd need to focus on getting things back under control.  Although it did increase dramatically, it didn't get into the red zone.  I thought, maybe I'm not pushing hard enough on this hill, but this feels like the speed I should be running.  Cresting the top of the hill, I fell into a really comfortable pace and cadence.  I kept thinking about staying relaxed and swinging my arms.  I felt great.  I checked in with my heart rate, and it looked good.  My first mile was my slowest and also the only one over an 8 min mile.

As I fatigued, I had to work really hard to keep my cadence up.  When I hit the mile 5 marker, I switched into my last gear, and brought that mile home in 7:27 (my second fastest mile of the run).  I saw the finish line and I sprinted, passing people left and right.  Final time was 46:45.  This is my fastest 10K on record, stand-alone or as part of a tri.  And it beat my time at Quassy when I had such a slow bike and really put everything I had into that run.

Sprinting to the finish

Run:
46:45 (7:32 pace, 5:34 better than last year!)
Rank in AG: 49 / 95

I crossed the finish line 6:11 faster than last year, and though clearly most of that time came from the run, I think I've made improvements on the bike as well.  I pushed the same time as last year but at a more conservative effort, allowing me to run on legs that weren't completely thrashed.

Last year, when I came to this race, I was plagued with doubts.  Did I really belong at the National Champs?  This year, I was confident.  Not that I was going to win or make the national team, but that I was going to have a great race.  I thought going in that I was going to let the best in the country spur me on to a PR.  In the end though, I was immune to the competition, focused on my race and my plan.

Post race with my honey

Finally, I can't take all the credit for this improvement.  I get great support, and not just from my team, and from A and R.  My fiance Paul forgives me when I wake him up in the morning to train, is understanding of my absence for half of the weekend as I get in my long runs and rides, and schleps both me and my gear to and from races.  I started training with Coach Alan almost exactly a year ago.  I went through a pretty structured process of researching, shortlisting and interviewing coaches.  I wanted to find some one who would take the guesswork out of my training and who cared about my races (almost) as much as I do.  I found these qualities in Coach Alan.  To say that my training programs have been detailed almost misses the point:  they have been perfectly tailored to meet my goals.

I took a look back at the goals I sent to Alan on Sept 5 of last year:

• Be injury-free-  Ok, this took some work considering I had already injured my leg (which became the stress fracture) when we started training together
• PR at Newton Chilly Half-  DONE 1:40:02 a 6 minute PR
• 6 mos: Increase power on the bike- DONE. 2011 AGN = 133W, 2012 AGN = 152W
• Qualified and race at AGN- obviously DONE
• Place in the top half for my age group at AGN-  Close.  57th percentile for my AG (an improvement from 68th last year), needed to shave a little more than 1 more minute off to break into the top half.
• Set a PR for an Oly under 2:35-  I almost wanna give myself a pass on 10 seconds, but I've still got one more oly of the season to go, so I'm not gonna close the book on this one yet.

Thank you, Alan.  Thank you, Paul.  I couldn't have done it without you.

That final kick

I'm no good at surprises:  I schooled last year's time of 2:44 with a 2:25 and (mostly) broke my oly PR.  I say "mostly" cause, with a bike course that's only 22 miles, it's not a totally fair comparison.  If the bike had been 25 miles, and I held the same pace, I would have come in with a 2:34:46, which would still be a new PR, beating the time I set at Lobsterman last year by over 5 minutes.

My transition area.  Cheesy as it is, I love that my socks say "Run Fast"

Many things worked well for this race.  I felt better prepped, having gotten into town the night before, registered early, driven the bike course with A (she drove while I navigated with her phone displaying the route, my phone displaying our current GPS location and Coach Alan's description of the elevations) and gotten a full nights sleep.  As much as a 9am start puts a damper on doing much else on race day, it does give a nice sleep in.

I've also been trying to visualize my races beforehand.  Last year, in the run up to Nationals, I was so anxiety-ridden at the thought of the race, I couldn't even really think about it.  The butterflies were so intense.  This year, since I've done the course once, I can easily visualize myself at each step of the race.  I picture having flawless execution, and I picture what I'll do if shit happens (goggles get kicked off, puncture, etc) and how I'll move on.  I picture being calm and collected at the start, being excited, but not anxious, going through transition quickly, but not in a hurry.  I've been visualizing Nationals for a couple of weeks now, usually in those quiet moments before I fall asleep.  Last week, I did some work visualizing this race, and I feel like it really paid off.

Swim
With water temperatures a toasty 77 degrees, wetsuits were only just allowed.  A and I traded, so she used my sleeveless and I used her sleeved.  Despite Coach Alan's recommendation to use the sleeved one whenever they're allowed, I think A got the better end of this deal on such a warm day.  I'm comfortable with letting the real swimmers take off at the start, but I usually expect to be at the front of the pack of triathletes (not swimmers) in the water.  This swim started off the same, but heading down the back stretch, I got caught by a girl who was not wearing a wetsuit.  I swam on her toes for a bit, but she was just a bit too fast.  Then another girl caught up with me, and we swam shoulder to shoulder for a good 500 yards, until my stomach started cramping with effort, and I let her go to focus on my own form.  I came out of the water 20 seconds behind the first girl and 16 behind the second, but just ahead of one more.

Time: 24:38 (1:39 pace)
Rank in AG: 3 / 16
Rank in Women: 17 / 124
Rank overall: 47 / 343

Bike
The transition to bike felt a little off.  I was lightheaded from the effort on the swim.  My heart rate was high, and I took it a little easy running out to the mount line.

Once on the bike though, things settled in.  I got passed by a girl whom I thought was in my age group (but turns out was not) pretty early on, and I turned my attention to just executing the plan and hitting my heart rate goals, and not coasting.

A few weeks ago a friend posted his power file from a race, and the thing that struck me was that his power never dropped to 0.  This means he never coasted, never even freewheeled, he was constantly applying the pressure.  This is not typically the case for me.  I stop pedaling... a lot.  I coast when I'm going downhill, I coast when I'm coming into a turn, I coast when the road surface is bad.  So, a goal for this ride was to pedal throughout.  Here's my cadence file:

You can see only a few coasts.  First to put on my shoes, next as we went through town and the road was narrowed, once cause a car almost pulled out into me and one pot hole.  I'm pretty pleased with this.  Except for the car part.  This car was coming into the road from my right and attempting to make a left turn.  The driver was looking right and inching into the lane without realizing there were bikes coming right toward her.  I actually yelled "HEY!" at her, and swerved around the back side of her.  She stopped short and the two riders behind me passed in front of her.  It was a little scary, but seemed like an acceptable reason to coast for a bit.

Despite this I passed a woman on the bike.  In fact, looking at the results, it looks like I passed two, but on the course I only noticed passing one.  Still!  Yay!  Passing a woman on the bike!

Time: 1:07:55 (19.44mph)
Rank in AG:  6 / 16
Rank in Women: 34 / 124
Rank overall: 180 / 343

Run
Getting out on the run, I figured I was in 3rd place at best, depending on how I'd done in the swim.  I thought about looking at my total time to calculate how fast I'd have to run to break my PR at this race.  But I also sorta liked just being out there for myself, not getting too caught up in the competition, just trying to be in the moment, and making the best of it as it came.  After such a well executed bike, I looked to the run to continue the trend.  I pulled out my gel flask to find that my cheat sheet had been completely worn off.  I knew what the top end of my heart rate zones should be, but I wasn't sure what the mileages were supposed to be.  So I sorta guessed.  

Around mile 2, I was feeling good, picking people off, and I passed a guy, and he got right on my heels.  And stayed there.  For four miles.  I started thinking of him as my shadow.  He fell right into my cadence, sped up when I sped up, slowed when I slowed.  I wanted to shake him off, but I couldn't without spiking my heart rate.  I hated the idea that he could put in a stronger final kick at the end and pass me, but I tried to put that out of my mind.

Just as we were nearing the finish, I caught up to a woman who had been just ahead of me for most of the race.  At first I thought she was 37, but as I got closer I saw she was 34.  My age group.  I looked up, and I could see the finish line tent through the trees, so I picked it up.  I was on a mission.  I passed her, and I didn't look back.  I didn't want to see what she was doing, I just wanted to put as much distance between the two of us as I could.

Finishing kick

That final kick finally shook my shadow (shirtless guy in the pict) and dropped my competition, moving me into 3rd place in my AG.

Finish line

Check out that sub-2:30 finish!  I finished 12 seconds ahead of 4th place.  This run was still around 51 minutes, so much better than last year, but still not a very solid 10K.  Could I have run this faster?  Maybe, but my heart rate was hovering just above where I thought I should be (and more than that in the last mile).  I felt like I ran this very close to the limit.

The F30-34 podium.  More glassware - love this race!

Time: 50:52 (8:12 pace)
Rank in AG: 2 / 16
Rank in women: 27 / 124
Rank overall: 135 / 343

PS
Thanks for sticking with me through this one, seems like I can't get a brief race report this season.

A had a good race: a nice solid swim, surprised herself with her bike, and a tough run that she persevered through.  She beat her goal time by almost 25 minutes.  And her toe held up well.  Congrats!

Finally, I've uploaded my cleaned up spreadsheet of the results to google docs here.  I've fixed all the times, so they add appropriately.  I've also shown cumulative time at each of the timing mats, so you can see what position you were in relative to your competition.  Fun!

A Little Domination

We can amend item 13 on the anniversary list.  I won my age group at the Webster Lake Tri.

Obviously, an age group win has a lot to do with who shows up.  My age group only had 8 competitors in it.  But, looking across age groups, I was the 5th woman home, out of 63.  That, I'm pretty proud of.  I hadn't gone in with explicit hopes of placing.  I went in wanting to have a low-stakes race where I could work on my race strategy and just go hard.  And I did just that.

The last time I did this course, it was my second triathlon ever, way back in 2007. Throughout the race on Sunday, I kept remembering how I felt at various points during that race all those years ago. 

R (the impetus to this whole triathlon thing), me and A, 2007 Danskin Sprint

Pre-race:
A came with and was an excellent spectathlete, but she didn't race herself.  Definitely the smart move with a broken toe, but also a super tough call to make.  We got to the race course a little shy of 90 minutes before the race. Registered, racked, walked through the transitions, bathroom, got in the water to warm up, nutrition, and start.  It all went so smoothly.  The racks were numbered, but we didn't have assigned spots.  When we got there, mine was the first bike on the rack, so I put it right on the end.  I also brought one of those reflective ankle bands to mark the end of the rack.  Coming into transition, I could quickly scan the racks and find my spot easily.

BTT ladies ready to tackle Webster Lake

Swim:
The plan here was to start solid, then kick it up a gear once the initial chaos had calmed.  This strategy worked perfectly.  At the start I lined myself up directly behind a fellow BTTer, whom I knew to be a strong swimmer (she went on to be the first place woman).  We got the countdown, and we were off.  Immediately, I could start to see a fast pack forming ahead of me, maybe 5-7 swimmers.  I thought briefly about sprinting up to get on feet, but I held back.  At the first turn (it was a triangular course), I started pushing harder, and I started passing people, not just ladies either, I was passing guys from the wave ahead of us.  In fact, I felt like I swam most of this swim passing through the guys.  In the end, I passed most of the girls who had gone out hard in that initial pack.

Distance: 0.42 mi (according to Garmin)
Time:  10:44 (1:27 per 100yds)
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 3 / 63
Rank overall: 12 / 185

T1:
This course has the longest trek from the swim to transition of any race outside of Pumpkinman (which offers a prize to the "King/Queen of the Hill").  When I did the race back in 2007, I stashed some flip flops near the swim exit and wore them for the run up to transition.  This year, I felt like it wasn't as rocky as I remembered, and that I was tougher than before, so I opted for barefoot running.  I had a consistent, but not super speedy pace.  I got passed by one woman on the hill.  I took a quick look at her, and knew she wasn't in my age group, so I decided not to give chase.  I ended up getting out of transition faster than her anyway, but she overtook me almost immediately, and set the fastest female bike split for the day.

Time: 3:26
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 7 / 63
Rank overall:  26 / 185

Bike:

Looking at the elevation map, it looks like one big hill.  But what I remembered from 2007 was that the hill actually feels like 3 hills, that first one (in red), then the big purple one has a little leveling out that allows you to catch your breath a bit.  I was thankful to remember this.  Just about to the top of the hill, I got passed by another woman.  I wasn't confident of her age group, but I was pretty sure that the second digit was a 7, which would mean I couldn't have been racing against her.  I still didn't know how many women were ahead of me.  It was all dudes out there.  But I stuck to the plan.  The one thing that I seemed to have missed in my race prep was turning on the sound on my garmin.  It was giving me alerts to eat every 20 minutes, but only flashing them on the screen, not making noise.  I thought about trying to fix this as I rode, (which is not uncommon for me) but I decided I'd be better served by just focusing on cranking on the bike.

Distance: 12 mi
Time:  37:49
Speed: 19.0 mph
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 9 / 63
Rank overall:  47 / 185

T2:
This went exactly as rehearsed.  Yay for transition practice.

Time: 0:52
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 5 / 63
Rank overall:  23 / 185

Run:
Coming in off the bike, I could see the runners heading out.  I saw the woman who first passed me on the bike, then my teammate, then one other girl, whom I hadn't seen before, so I concluded she must have come out of the swim before me.  I didn't see the second woman who passed me on the bike, but I figured I must have just not seen her.  This meant I was at worst in second place in my AG, and in 5th in the women's race.  As I rounded the corner from transition, A told me she thought there were maybe 2 girls ahead of me in my AG.

Starting the run.  This guy stuck on my heals for about half a mile after I passed him

The goal of the run was to go hard for the first half, and harder for the second half.  In trying to drop the guy in the picture, I went a little bit too hard out to the first turn.  We went over an overpass that was a vicious hill in my memory, but in this race it was an undulation, not a pace killer.  As I was coming into the turn around, I could see the leaders in the women's race.  My teammate in first, the first biker, and the girl I hadn't seen before in third.  I spotted the second biker in fourth.  I thought the gap to her didn't seem unbridgeable.  But when I turned around myself, I didn't find another gear to shift into.  Definitely went a bit too hard on that first bit.  I tried to maintain.  When I hit the turn back onto the main road, I felt like I was running well, if a little gassed.  I ran the first half in 7:00 minute miles, and the second half in 7:11.  Not quite the plan, but still a solid 7:04 average (with the sprint at the end).  I did not catch the 4th place woman, but I also did not get caught by any other women either.

Distance: 2.71 (according to Garmin)
Time: 19:09
Pace: 7:04
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 4 / 63
Rank overall:  27 / 185

Total:
In the end, this race was incredibly fun.  It's so nice to just have a race go well.  To have no expectations and then to surprise myself.  The day before the race, my friend J, who was also racing, suggested that we should both win our age groups the following day.  I was a little nervous to make that sort of prediction, cause I didn't want those expectations.  But he had it right.  We both won our age groups.  I makes me want to do more (small) sprints.

Prophesy fulfilled, with J

Women's 30-34 podium, with teammate B!

Time: 1:12:00 
Rank in AG: 1 / 8
Rank in Women: 5 / 63
Rank overall: 26 / 185

A coach's perspective on Quassy

A few more pointers from my coach on Quassy (more for my own benefit than anything else).

1.  Pedal through the top of the hill.  The image here shows the course elevation in green, my speed in blue and my power in pink.  As you can see at the highest point of that climb, my power is 0.  This means I crested and then immediately took a break.  I need to continue to keep the power up until at my desired cadence and speed, I can no longer apply pressure.

2.  My average heart rate was lower on this ride than planned, again supporting the above point.  Keep the pressure on.

3.  Really, truly walk through the transitions before the race.  Figure out where you're coming out of the water, practice finding the rack from both the swim entrance and the bike entrance.  No reason to loose seconds here.  Also I just bought some cheap bright green towels to mark my transition.

4.  Keep my feet behind me when running downhill.  I was definitely aware that as I ran downhill, I was not cruising, I was clomping.  My coach reminded me of how to float, by not extending my foot out in front where it will put on the brakes, but instead to slow by changing my cadence.  I'm definitely going to need to practice this in the upcoming weeks.  Maybe on my zone 2 runs.

5.  Never count myself out.  You just don't know what's going to happen in a race.  That girl that passed me on the bike may not have the legs to finish the run strong.  Stick to my plan and put in the best race I can.

Quassy! Quassy! Quassy! Oy! Oy! Oy!

Drenched.  Sodden.  Soggy.  Sopping.  Soaked.  It was a wet one.

Quassy swim

The swim went well.  I felt good.  Found clear water and caught up with slower swimmers from earlier waves.  The course was a little funky.  They had many buoys on the course but only two of them were turn buoys.  The others were "guide" buoys that you didn't have to keep to one side or the other.  When I rounded the second turn, I sighted the finish arch and swam towards it.  But the closer I got, the more it seemed like there were fewer swimmers around me.  Then I noticed I didn't see any one coming out of the water.  Not a good sign.  Then I realized I was swimming toward the starting arch, not the finish. You can see in my gps where I realized my mistake.  Luckily, they weren't that far apart.  According to garmin, I swam an extra ~100m.

The ride was tough.  Not just because of the elevation (which is decidedly the toughest ride I'll have all season).  I got overtaken by a few girls in my age group in the first few miles and that was disheartening.  And then the rain.  It had started and stopped all morning, but it seemed just as I hit the BIG downhill the skies opened up.  The bike was treacherous.  At 56 degrees and max speeds in the high 30s, I got cold, even with my jacket.  The bike was also tough because I'd been thinking of this race as a proving ground for all the training I've done since October.  To get out there and not have it go well undermined my confidence in that training.  Really, I just wanted to be off my bike.  To the point that when I returned to Boston, I put Shelby (the tri bike) in the basement and opted for the old Stallion for my recovery ride.

The appeal of throwing in the towel after such a disappointing ride was strong, but I didn't go to this race to quit.  I got running.  I had been caught by two girls in my age group right at the end of the bike, so they were my first goals.  I caught the first one right outside of transition, and the second before the first turn.  From there I started thinking about redemption.  My mantra was "I am going to salvage this race."  At mile two, there was a little out and back, and I saw my teammate J.  Sorry, J, but there was a target on your back from that point on.  The mantra became "Four miles to catch J," then "Three miles to catch J," finally, "Two miles to catch J."  And at mile five, I caught her.  We ran together for a bit, and then I moved on, up the last hill and to the finish.

I hit the finish line and burst into tears.  The combination of a disappointing ride and the pride at having a killer run was overwhelming.

In the days since the race, I'm feeling better about it.  The bike was wet, and the competition was fierce, but those things are out of my control.  What I could control was my approach to that final run, and I'm really proud that I dug deep and busted out a near PR on a hilly course.

A few parting thoughts about the race itself.  This is the first Rev 3 race I've done.  I really like the idea of another organization giving WTC a run for their money, getting a stacked pro field out there and running a super fun race.  I thought they rolled with the punches pretty well (not much you can do about the entire finishers chute becoming a giant mud pit, or your distributor not getting you the swim caps on time).  I have one suggestion for improvement though.  Rev 3 needs better signage.  During registration it was not at all clear that there were 3 steps, where the next step went, etc.  As a spectator on Sunday, there were no signs to the satellite parking, and when I did find it and took the shuttle back to the course the pick up was different from the drop off, and again no signs.  In transition, although this individual rack spots were labeled with both number and name, the ends of each rack were not, and it was challenging to locate which rack your bike was on.  So, yeah, overdo it on the signs.

And now it's time to go ride some hills.

On running a race

Yesterday, I participated in the James Joyce Ramble, a lovely 10K out in Dedham, MA which has actors in period dress reading Joyce along the course.  This 10K didn't really fit in with my prep for tri season, so my coach and I decided to use it as a training run.  The plan was to do a nice Zone 2 (easy) run and to not get too caught up in the competition.

We had a gorgeous day for it:  plenty of sunshine with a cool breeze.  And I got to run with my friends A and R and new friend D, who all set new PRs, so definitely worth it.  Still, there are benefits and drawbacks to running a race, but not racing it.

Benefits:

1. That is the best I've felt at the 4 mile mark of a 10K run, ever.  The thought that went through my head was "ooh, 2 more miles" instead of "ugh, 2 more miles."
2. I got to really enjoy the spectacle of the race.  The Joyce readers were fabulous.  There were a set of elderly twin women, in matching pink shawls reading in unison and a guy with a thick Irish brogue.  It was hard to really hear what they were saying, but it was still cool.  Then there were the three guys running with mullets sticking out the bottom of their headbands and American flags sticking out the top of them, singing "I'll ramble for you" to the tune of Culture Club's 'I'll tumble 4 ya.'
3. No pre-race nerves.
4. Water stops

Drawbacks:

1. The urge to pick people off is strong.  I started at the back of the pack, with the intention of running through and picking up my friend for the latter half of the race (which didn't work cause it was too small of a race).  So I got to pick people off for a few miles, but then I caught up to my pack, and it was tough to just hang and not go too hard.
2. $40 for a training run is a bit steep (though the free beer afterwards did help with that).
3. It's been a long time since I've run a 10K on its own (like 4 years).  As I was nearing the finish line, I realized that my training run was getting very close to my PR, and that if I could just pick it up a bit there at the end, I would beat it.  But I was already at the top end of my heart rate zone, so in the end I was 9 seconds slower than my PR from 2008.

Multisport Expo Swim Relay Race Report: Sparkle Motion

Last weekend, I got to race in my second ever swim meet.  Just like last year, I swam in the Multisport Expo Swim Relay.  But unlike last year, it was only a 300 yard swim, and I was wearing a matching sparkly, gold and pink swim suit.

[we couldn't find the same pattern for Brendan]

Before I get to the actual race, I have to point out, I had some awesome support.  Paul was out, along with a few friends from my old team, and R, her boyfriend, her roommate and a friend.  They made signs!  Just as I was about to hop in, I looked up and they were doing the wave.  Awesome.

Over the last month, my coach has had me swimming 3x300 once a week.  The first 300 is moderate, the second is moderately hard, and the last is very hard.  Here's how those times have shaken out:

My best time over the month was a 4:41.  I figured I could swim a 4:30 (1:30/100 pace same as last year) with all the excitement of the race.  

The other excitement for the race was that I bought a Garmin 910XT.  This is the latest, top-of-the-line Garmin triathlon watch.  There were two major factors in deciding to purchase this device.  1) It computes swim stats.  Not only did my old Garmin not give you data for swimming, it voided the warranty.  New Garmin counts laps, calculates splits and generally loves the water.  2) Since I train with my coach virtually, having a watch that keeps track of my swim and generates a file that I can just upload and send to him (just like I do with my Garmin on the run, or my SRM on the bike) just makes things easier.

The biggest surprise with New Garmin is that it is not a watch.  I had read reviews of other GPS watches that talk about them "being a watch."  But I always assumed that was just because it's not very stylish to wear a graphing calculator on your wrist.  Nope.  Turns out, this watch does keep track of the time, but it doesn't have a "sleep" mode where it's just displaying time.  Either you are training with this watch, or you have it turned off.  Let's not pretend it's a watch.

Ok, so we've got sparkly, matching suits, awesome cheering friends and a new watch.  Now we're ready to race.  It was a bit chaotic at the beginning with 18 teams, volunteer timers and lap counters, people doing a swim clinic and folks trying on wetsuits all trying to get organized.  We got there early, warmed up, dried off, registered, watched the first heat, then re-warmed and finally got to racing.

[just before the start- we're in the third lane]

In a year's time I still haven't learned to dive off the blocks.  Until I'm racing ITU races, I doubt that I will, so I started in the water, and swam second for our team.  Last year things felt serene.  This year, not so much.  I felt like I was going hard on the first hundred, but my form was good, I was cruising.  That didn't last long though, things started to feel a bit flaily in the second hundred and the third was spent just trying to hold on for dear life.

New Garmin created this not very helpful graph:

[I don't love that they invert the pace axis, so that 0 is at the top, I feel like that should mean that I'm swimming "negative" splits (which I was not)]

The graph shows the pace per hundred for each length of the pool.  That first length is 1:17, next is 1:20, then 1:22 and 1:24.  And the pace just got worse from there.  The good news:  I swam the first 100 in 1:20.8, my best time EVER for a 100.  The bad news, my average ended up being closer to 1:27 per 100.  Still, that's 3 seconds per 100 better than last year's relay AND:

[Training and racing 300s]

WAY better than my training 300s.

 The rest of my team are better swimmers than I am, and we placed a solid 6th out of 18 teams.  Not too shabby.

Finally, a post script.  R checked out the expo while waiting for the relay to start.  She came away excited to try out her first triathlon this summer!  I didn't even have to coerce her into it.  I am thrilled to get to expand my "coaching" role with her and to share my enthusiasm for the sport.