Settle in. Stay strong. Endure.
Kansas 70.3
Where to start? Well, I guess it all started with the crazy idea to even attempt a 70.3. Only in my second full season of triathlon, it seemed like a huge undertaking. The idea started to become reality last August– after I finished Quartermax and thought, “Huh, that wasn’t so bad!” So I filed the idea in my “I want do to that ONE day” file and went about the start of my 4th year of medical school. I happen to mention in passing to one of my attendings (aka clinical professor), Rodney Adkison, that I was thinking about doing Kansas, to which he replied, “You could do Kansas.” Hmm, okay, maybe I could do Kansas. Fast forward to the end of December, having fallen off the training wagon through the holiday season (who doesn’t?!), I decided it was now or never if I was going to do a half ironman. I would have 7 weeks off from the completion of medical school and the start of my internship. I will never in my life have that much free time on my hands. Not to mention that I purposely scheduled all of my difficult rotations in the beginning of my 4th year, leaving the spring open for fun rotations and training. So I did it, I sat down at the computer the last day of December and signed up for the 70.3 in Lawrence, Kansas on June 14th, 2009. Once I set a goal, I am fiercely devoted to achieve it. So I started my training… by running 2 miles. It’s amazing how much fitness you lose in such a short amount of time! Thankfully, it came back almost as fast. But I still had a long way to go. I had to double the distance from my races the previous season. Having always been the “scholar athlete” I dove head first into books, internet articles, pre-fab’d training plans, and quickly decided I was going to have to approach my training with a personal twist. I tried, twice, to develop and stick with a strict periodization schedule and eventually got overwhelmed with the complexity of the workouts that I decided to scale back the workouts– focusing on endurance, force and muscular endurance; leaving behind the speed, power, and anaerobic pain. With this new plan, I felt more relaxed and was able to enjoy training. Thanks to Dianna Adkison, I got to know with another newbie triathlete, Becky Lynn, who was training for a 70.3 in France. Becky and I kept each other company on many long bike rides, adding miles (and hills!) every week. She’s a runner and I’m a swimmer, so we also helped each other out in our respective fields. I am so thankful I got to know Becky- and will think of her every time I go to Quizno’s J I am also grateful to have had Sandi Wulff who became my cycling “Mama” and looked after me on the Jeff City group rides.
So training was going great, meeting my distances, competing in several early season events, but the volume was catching up to me. I tweaked my hip during a 14 mile run (obey the 10% rule!) and had to cut back on my running for much of the month of May. I took a whole week off, then gradually worked back up to smaller and more frequency runs, but was too scared to run anything over 8 miles in the weeks leading up to race day. So I knew my run would suffer, it has now become my weakest event.
It was during Octomax, the week before Kansas, that my race mantra came to mind. “Settle in. Stay strong. Endure.” Use the swim to settle in, the water is where I am most confident. Stay strong during the bike and do what I could to endure through the run. That was it; that was my race plan. (Okay, so in reality it was a little more than that, but you get the point.)
Saturday, June 13th My husband and I decided to camp at the state park the night before (which was the best decision ever!) so we had the car packed with all the camping gear and my tri stuff. On my husband’s last run through of the house (which he always does, and I always make fun of him for) he comes out wheeling my bike… oh yea, I might need that! I would have noticed when I looked at the bike rack in the rear view mirror and didn’t see the bike, but it was funny nonetheless. Okay, so we hit the road due west to the Land of Oz. We arrive early afternoon and make our way back to the campsite. After a little confusion and being told our “reservation information was not communicated” we found a good spot not too far from the finish line. When we saw the mile long line for registration, we decided to divide and conquer— I would hop in line and he would set up camp. During my hour long wait to pick up my race packet I chit-chatted with a member of KC tri club. After collecting my race numbers, swim cap, and familiar looking Ultramax timing chip, I headed back to camp to pick up my husband and bike and we made our way down to T1 for bike check in. I felt the need to attend the race meeting even though I had read every single word on every single piece of information that was sent out, just in case I missed something. It was a complete waste of time, he basically told us to swim, then bike, then run, oh yea and no drafting (not all the 30something guys heard that part apparently). But we caught up with Tam and Lise, then Sarah and Tom, and Joe and Mark. Then it was back to camp to begin the sorting of the gear. This was my first race with separate transitions, so I had to separate my gear into T1 and T2 piles. Once I was organized, and checked my lists once or twice or three times over, it was supper time! Off to Chipotle and Hy-Vee for some Amber Bock and a big Sharpie. We spent the rest of the evening relaxing and reading Runner’s World.
Sunday, June 14th Race day! I slept much better than I had anticipated. I can be a little on the anxious OCD side on race morning, but it was very calming to already be at the event site. We didn’t have to mess with packing up, driving to the race, parking, unloading gear, etc. I was one of the first ones to walk through camp as I made my way to the bath house. The sky still dark, thunder loomed in the distance, temperature dropped a little and the winds picked up. “Oh come on, not now, not today.” I said to the skies. Thankfully, the ominous clouds blew by, leaving a gray overcast sky for the start. I’m a solid food eater the morning of a race, no Boost or Ensure for this girl. Give me some peanut butter bagels, bananas and 20 oz of red Gatorade. The downside is that I have to eat ridiculously early to make sure my tummy is empty by the start of the swim. I eat and suit up. I didn’t get body marked the day before at bike check-in so I hand a big Sharpie to my husband who marks all my extremities with a 6-3-2 and adds a 26 to the back of my right calf. Alright, I’m ready. Quick stop by T2 to drop off my running shoes and race belt, then we joined the giant migrating mass of people towards the swim start. I get into T1 and start loading up my bike. Garmin, check. Bento box – 6 GUs, 2 Shot bloks, check. Pump tires, check. Aero bottle, check. Extra water bottle, check. Helmet and bike shoes, check. Okay, I’m set. Get me the hell outta here! It was getting a little crowded and stressful as people were still running in to transition 2 minutes before the first wave was set to start. The race directors were shouting, “Drop and go, drop and go, get outta here!” Oh man, the anxiety was through the roof. It was then that I realized how incredibly organized Ultramax races are – thanks Umax crew, you are truly amazing!
Okay, focus Maya, you still need to get your wetsuit on, get moving. The nerves are starting to rev, and I’m starting to shake. I am so glad I had the chance to race in my wetsuit before that day, I knew where to pull and how to twist to get it to fit just right. Well, the left leg was a little externally rotated, but whatever, I’d live. I had to get down to the boat dock and find my wave. Damn, there’s a lot of people here. Teary eyed and nervous I get my good luck kiss from my husband and off I go. I find my fellow white swim caps and make some meaningless chatter with complete strangers, we are all nervous. Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” starts blaring from the loud speakers, and you can feel the anxious energy melt away, a few girls start bobbing their heads, some full out dancing, others rapping along remembering those crazy college parties. Oh, okay, we’re up, let’s go, in the water, don’t pass the buoys. Patiently treading water, I now understand the washing machine analogy. The air horn signals our start.
Swim – 1.2 milesI love the water. I am in my element. I settle in. Four strokes, sight, four strokes, sight. Are those buoys green or is that the forest in the background? Not the color I would have chosen to mark a long swim course in a muddy lake on a gray day. Oh well, just remember to turn at the orange ones. I keep myself in check, keep my heart rate low, keep my 2:00/100 pace I had planned. I get passed, and do some passing of my own. I stop and check on a green cap- he says he’s alright, just panicked a little, he’ll be okay. I continue on my way, feeling really good. I don’t really feel it in my shoulders until the 3rd to last buoy. Sweet, those continuous hour swims paid off! Then I see the swim finish, wow, I’m almost done… with the swim. I hop out of the water, start peeling off my wetsuit and start jogging to transition- uh, heart rate jumped, I better walk through transition. I scan the crowd trying to catch a glance of my husband, he said he’d see me out of the water, where is he? Oh, there he is, just outside the transition fence. Okay, stand on towel, turn on Garmin, socks, shoes, helmet, glasses, bike, go. Bike- 56 milesI worked so hard on my bike through the winter and spring, that I now feel 100% comfortable and confident on the bike. (Thanks to Nicole’s spin class and Tom’s superb fitting skills.) I heard the course was hilly, that the “iron cross” was brutal, and to prepare well. I did. The bike course was not as awful as I had been warned. (They also changed the course a bit from last year.) My plan for the bike was to stay strong, and keep up with my nutrition/fluid intake. I stuck to my plan, alternating between Shot bloks and GUs every 30 minutes, and drinking every 15. I was worried about my fluid intake, but adding the aero drink bottle helped tremendously (so well that I had to stop at mile 30 for a potty break). I hopped up to the big chain ring for most of the course, popping down every now and again for the hills. I used the downhills for rest, I couldn’t risk getting my heart rate up and my gut shutting down, so I wanted to keep my cadence comfortable. I was so happy on the bike. The sun was peaking through the clouds, I was staying strong, my 16.4 mph average was much better than I had anticipated. The last hour of the bike, I didn’t want to chew through another package of Shot bloks, so I was glad I packed extra GUs. Still in my big chain and pulling into the park going almost 20mph was surreal, no way did I imagine feeling this fabulous at the end of the bike. Then came the run…Run – 13.1 milesInto T2 for a quick transition – running shoes and race belt, and another potty break. I started the run with a smile and I ended the run with a smile, unfortunately I didn’t have the smile through out the run (I’m no Chrissie Wellington!). I knew the run was going to be my worst segment, I just hoped I could will myself through it. The first 5K was awesome, cruising along at a little slower than 10K pace. Down the hill, around the boat dock, back up to circle the campground. I got so turned around on the run course, all the camp area looked the same. I was happy they had mile markers. At mile 6, I felt my pace slow, which I knew would happen. If I look back at all of my training runs, I slow down at mile 6 without fail, even if I am just out for a fun run with no idea of how far I’ve gone, my pace slows. Okay, that’s fine, I planned on averaging 10-10:30 minute miles. So I just went with the flow. The sky was clear, the sun was out and it was getting warm. I started grabbing Gatorade and sponges at every aid station. My goal was not to walk at all on the run. I had to revise my plan when I realized I was splashing more Gatorade on myself than I was consuming. So I told myself that walking the aid stations didn’t count, it was a matter of logistics, if I was going to drink I had to walk. The volunteers were fabulous, holding ice cold sponges (I started calling them “little pieces of heaven”) and making sure you had what you needed. I had one volunteer loop around to the other side to bring me the Gatorade I had missed. Mile 8, 9 and 10 were back down to the dock and back up the hill. I refused to walk the hill. I wasn’t going to give in. I wanted to say that I had run the entire course. I was one of the few at that point that was still “running”, many had given in, making the logical conclusion that walking was faster than running. It might have been, but I wasn’t having it. “Settle in, stay strong, Endure. Endure. Endure.” I picked up my feet and drove my arms and reached the crest, feeling on top of the world. Then came the last 5K, the longest 5K eevverrr! I hit a wall at mile 10, my legs weren’t ready for this. Was I too conservative with my hip injury? Should I have pushed through and made myself do those long runs in late May? Who knows, all I knew was that I had 3 miles left, and I was going to finish. I got to see my husband eight times on the run course, each time rejuvenated by his smile. Mile 11 was done. I hit the 12th mile marker and said (outloud), “Hallelujah!” One more mile, that’s it. Another aid station, another sip of lemon-lime goodness and one last sponge down. I just wanted to be done; I wanted to reach the other side of that finish line. I came around the corner, out of the woods, and there it was, like a mirage in the desert. I picked up the pace, I felt like hell but I wasn’t going to look like it. I drove my knees, smiled at the camera, and crossed that line. I was finished. The timing chip was stripped from my right ankle, I was handed water, given my medal and greeted by Sarah, champagne in hand, and Tam cheering. Sweaty hugs exchanged, I turned to my husband and simply said, “I did it.”