Oceanside: the extended race report

I guess I am actually behind on two race reports now, but I'll start with the long race first. Can I start at the end? I sure felt a sense of relief when I finished the race, because in all honesty, I had been getting a bit anxious about the logistics of it all (meaning, Hunter logistics). Surely it gave me something to worry about other than my race and the sharks that could be encountered in that cold, cold water. 

Pre-race beach combing

We stayed just about 3 miles from the start of the race, on Camp Pendleton, in an awesome little one bedroom villa right on the beach. That is a big $$ and location benefit of being a military family, and we got super lucky when someone cancelled their stay and we got to book. I technically could've ridden or driven the whole bike course too, with my dependent ID, but it is one big loop, and, well... OK, so I maybe should have taken advantage of that, since most people aren't able to access the base. But I knew the profile (are the elevation charts always wrong? Just so they don't scare you?). There was also NO WAY I was getting in that ocean. It was cold, murky, shark-infested, and did I mention cold, and there's no swimming of the actual course allowed before race day. I had a brief view of most of the run course, and anyway, maps are all online, so I called myself prepared and packed up my bags. 

Race morning I woke up trying to keep Hunter asleep next to me, but of course he had to see what the commotion was about and got up too. I had taken my T2 bag to T2 the day before, so all I had to do was pack for T1 and ride out the south gate of the base, part of the course, to the pier. The air was not cold, just about 55F; 80% humidity will help retain some heat overnight.

Side note: Hunter and I also realized we both have much curlier hair than we had thought (or remembered) -- wow!

I got to T1 before 6, and my wave, #16, was set to start at 7:27. I set up, chatted a bit, used the porta potty, then wandered down the jetty to watch the pros swim. I did a double take when I saw something dark skim the surface of the water near the women, and my HR shot up. It surfaced again and I saw that it was a seal! He swam along beside them for a bit. Better them than me! I finally got into my wetsuit and about 15 minutes before my start, I headed to the long, long line of people grouped by waves. I had of course forgotten which wave I was in, so not spotting any other white caps, I searched out an answer, and found I was 7 waves back. Time to hustle through some men! Ooops! I caught up to my group of 35-39ers in time to relax before we all entered the water to swim 100yds to the start line. The water was a warm 62F -- it could've been worse -- but I had some pee saved up to help ease my entry. :) I got just a bit out of breath with that first face dunk, and by the time I had slowly gotten to the back of the group at the line, we started. A few beats to the head and a kick or two was all I had to deal with at the start, and I actually settled into a rhythm relatively quickly for me (you know, 1/3 of the way through). I only panicked when some kelp brushed me a few times, but I just closed my eyes to settle down. If you wonder why I have such a fear of large sea creatures after growing up going to the beach all the time and even scuba diving with several dozen sharks at once, I blame it on seeing some movie about divers getting eaten by sharks years ago. It's very rational, really.

An 8-foot-long sea monster like the ones that grabbed me. You'd be scared too.

Coming out of the water in 37 minutes actually made me happy, even though I've swum a good 5 minutes faster in warm calm lakes. I was just happy to have all my appendages and fingers and toes that worked after that ice bath. My T1 seemed awfully slow; we had to run all the way up the long narrow parking lot, then down to the bikes, where my wetsuit would. not. come. off. I was stepping on it and yanking and pulling, and it was still glued to my right ankle. Finally, 6-something minutes later, I was out on the bike. I knew the first half was fast and flat, and I took it a little easy, probably too easy, since I didn't want to be one of the uphill bike walkers. Looking back, I should've just busted ass on that first 25 miles. It was scenic with the ocean and green trees (I notice these things while living in the brown desert), and then suddenly we rounded a corner and I saw the first big hill ahead. A line of bikes crawled up the right side, and I couldn't help but smile; it looked like fun. Only about 5 or 6 were walking their bikes up, and I really felt sorry for them, since it wasn't too bad of an incline. Before the race I was told that it was 15% in some places, which really is not much compared to the mountains around our house. Cresting the top after maybe half a mile, I was expecting more, but it was over before I knew it. 

A few more steep hills came after, and I knew there was a big descent ahead. We were working our way through some base buildings when I heard a pop and a fizzzzzzzzzzzz. I looked around for someone to feel sorry for, and found no one near me. Dammit, it's mine! My back tire was completely flat. Funny how I am starting my 18th triathlon season and this is only my 2nd flat in a race (the first was just 2 years ago, when I first got these wheels). I stayed calm, changed gears, got the wheel and supplies off, and sat down in the grass. You are never supposed to do things for the first time in races, but when do I ever get the chance to change a tubular? The bike shop always does it for me. :) This seemed like the perfect opportunity for a pit stop as well, so I had my next race first: peeing in my shorts (while not swimming, of course). I was sitting in the grass anyway. TMI? Sorry! I could NOT find the spot across from the valve stem where the tire should not be glued, so I started mashing on the valve and got a little separation. From there I used my tools to detach it. This took much longer than I would have expected, but finally it came free. I pulled out my old but very unused spare and unrolled it onto the rim, and then decided it looked too big. A flash of horror crossed my mind when I thought it might be a 700c of Jeremy's, but thankfully it was not. Still, I didn't see how this would work. I was super careful with my CO2 cartridge, remembering a certain Ironman champion and blowing hers up. Somewhat surprised that it worked and very excited to be successful, despite the grass I got stuck between the rim and tire, I poked at it a few times, remembered that a mechanic told me that he'd done a crit on an unglued tubular (mine was pre-glued like 50 years ago), and collected my stuff strewn about. I tried not to be disappointed that all my hard work in training was suddenly pointless--I didn't want to think that negatively--but really I was very let down. I kept telling myself I could still have a good run as consolation. 

Next up was the downhill with a no passing zone. I didn't go over 25 mph around those sweeping curves, and I apologized to the guy who had to hang behind me during it. I was so nervous about the stability of the tire. Suppose I hadn't gotten enough air in it and it rolled right off the rim! Every downhill, corner, and even flats where I could get some speed, I had crashing in the back of my mind. But still, the last third of the course was fun, except for having to pass ALL those people again that I'd already passed. So many had passed me back!

Coming into T2, I was so relieved to be off the bike, where the malfunction possibilities are endless. And can I get an asterisk next to my bike time? I'm sure I did well in the Flat Tire division. I made quick work of dumping my T2 bag out and finding my shoes, then getting out of there! I usually outsplit everybody in transitions, and I think I did a good job here to make up for the sticky wetsuit of T1.

The run started with a quick turnaround and then we headed down the ramp from the pier to the beach level boardwalk-- The Strand. I went bombing down the steep decline, rounded the corner, and found that this cute little beach house lined path was extremely narrow. Who says you don't use your lateral movement muscles while running? I was dodging people and jumping up and down off the sidewalk through spectators, since the path was only wide enough for about a person and a half in each direction. After a short out and back we were headed back up the ramp to the street for a while, then back down to the Strand, back up to the street, and through a neighborhood that was mostly flat, surrounded by concrete, and sunny with a tailwind. It did get hot!

Liz and I decided I would run without my Garmin, so I ran by feel, not even knowing my distance. I saw exactly zero mile markers, unless you count a six inch long strip of tape on the road that I think said 11 miles. So i didn't bother looking at my watch much; it told me very little. I had to keep myself calm at the beginning. I was excited to be off the bike, running at sea level, and I didn't want to blow up in my first correct-order tri in a couple of years. One man passed me, but otherwise I just kept picking people off. Luckily the neighborhood road was wide and I had room to do just that.

All along the Strand were spectators yelling my name, thanks to the bib, but I kept looking for Jeremy and Hunter. I really wanted to see them, but they had gotten stuck in harbor traffic an hour before, so they parked and played in the shade. I checked my watch with what i figured was over 3 miles to go, and thought I could definitely run under 1:40. It turned out to be much shorter and I hit the finish with a 1:33 run. I'm happy with our decision to run garminless, and according to the adjusted online splits, I ran very steadily for the middle miles (though I'm quite certain their marks are off for the first and last splits).

I gathered my finisher's stuff, some pizza, then headed uphill to T2. Jeremy had texted that the tracker was down, so I called and finally met up with them after riding my bike and all my gear around town. I don't know who was more relieved-- Hunter or I-- when he finally nursed those painful boulders! My sunburn was already starting to feel tight on my shoulders, but my lips turned out to take the worst of it. Why does this always happen to me? A race picture explained it. 

Oh. Now I see where the sun hits my face.

 
It was a great race, and I'm really happy to have finally done it after years of having it on my list. I have to let go of the unavoidables and disappointment; but if I had just ridden ONE INCH to the right or left it would've been avoidable! If only, if only.

The details of our week long vacation that followed will have to be saved for another post, as will the 10k race report-- oh yeah! I jumped into a 10k the next Saturday-- since I think I've exceeded my word limit here!