And then I started watching the weather forecast. I know better. I know that the weather forecast gets in my head. I know that the weather forecast is constantly changing, and it's ludicrous to start checking it two or three weeks before the race. But I do it anyway, because I can't help myself.
So 10 days out the forecast calls for thunderstorms, some severe, from 4am through the afternoon. Seriously??? For starters, I don't want the swim canceled because (a) I like the warm up before the bike and (b) it's my best leg. Also, lighting on the bike??? Once again, Mother Nature hates me and is trying to ruin my race. I'm convinced it's going to be a total shit show and spend the next week debating whether it's even worth flying down to Texas. Maybe I should just bail on the whole thing. But then what? I'd have tapered for nothing, and that's almost as annoying as the prospect of a disastrous race. Plus, the forecast can change and maybe it'll actually be decent whether and then I'd be sitting at home kicking myself. So I pack my bags and head to Texas, but I'm not happy about it.
The Lead-In
On the plus side, my constant checking of the weather forecast revealed that the thunderstorms looked likely to hold out until after I was done with the race, or at least until mid-way on the run when rain actually can be kinda fabulous. On the other hand, the forecast called for 20mph crosswinds the entire morning, until - ironically - the thunderstorms moved in. (Which led to an interesting game of "would you rather": sustained 20mph crosswinds, or 10mph crosswinds and rain?)I am really, really not a big fan of crosswinds. My only outdoor ride of the season (no comments from the peanut gallery on this, please) had been two weeks before the race - in brutal crosswinds. I'd spent huge portions of the ride leaning at a 5 degree angle into the wind and desperately trying to hold my line so I didn't end up in a ditch or on top of a car. It was terrifying. So I had some massive concerns about how I would survive a 3-hour struggle with crosswinds.
I did do a mini-brick before bike check-in, and the wind didn't seem too bad then. Feeling a little better! Went to dinner on the water front, realized how much worse the wind was without the protection of a few blocks of buildings: feeling worse. Checked my weather app and realized the seemingly outrageous winds at dinner were only at 13mph: feeling even worse. Re-ran Best Bike Split after dinner and realized the wind would cost me 15 minutes on the bike: not helping. Did some math and realized I could still have a decent race if I swam and ran well: feeling a teeny, tiny bit better. But overall, I was massively, dramatically unenthusiastic about the race.
Race Morning
A fitful night's sleep with a series of race-anxiety dreams did not help my perspective on the day. Walking outside to whipping crosswinds cemented my belief that the bike was going to be a total nightmare. I was reminded in transition that the only thing you can control on race day is effort and attitude, and I was failing miserably at dealing with my attitude. I was really, really terrified of the bike and there was no way to right my head about it.The Swim - 37:39
My swim wave was the first age group wave, right after the pros. Even though I knew it meant I'd be passed all day long on the bike, I was grateful not to have a ton of time to sit around getting even more pissed off about the wind situation.I was actually pretty happy with my swim. I felt strong, and even (delusionally) thought I might be in the top 5 of my age group. Sure, the water had some decent swells going but that never really bothers me. I just found my rhythm, swam buoy to buoy, and got it done.
T1 - 3:09
So, I'm writing this race report over two weeks post-race, rather than my usual 48-72 hours. I really don't remember where my head was at in T1. I'd like to think that I was trying to stay positive, but more likely I was already complaining to those around me about the impending winds. In fact, it's very possible that I turned to someone next to me also grabbing their bike and said, "This bike is going to be a nightmare."The Bike - 2:53:57
You know those days where the miles just fly by, you're pushing decent watts and it feels effortless? This was not one of those days. I was a mile and a half in when I started looking at my Garmin to see how far I'd gone. This bike ride was going to last approximately forever.The first five miles I spent fighting against the crosswind, trying to settle in but dealing with a cramp in my right tricep (likely due to pushing back against the wind), and hoping I could grab my nutrition bottle without getting blown over. I was pissed off and cranky and time was practically standing still, but at least my pace was not horrible. The second five miles were about the same, except that my watts and therefore my pace were dropping.
The third five miles I worked to push back up to my target watts. Due to gearing, my choices seemed to be 80rpm at target watts or 95rpm at lower watts. The last thing I wanted was to be on my bike any longer than absolutely necessary, so I opted for 80rpm at target watts even though I knew it might blow out my legs. Kelly Williamson had said at the pro panel that lower cadence was more stable in crosswinds, which made sense, and it supported my choice of gearing, so that was the new plan.
By the fourth file miles, I was finally feeling like I had settled in. The miles weren't going by any faster, but my pace was pretty well on target to meet the BestBikeSplit estimate and - more importantly - I'd realized that I wasn't going to get blown off the road by the wind. It was certainly annoying, but I felt stable on my bike rather than terrified and overall it was actually kinda manageable. I had finally arrived at a semi-positive attitude about the bike. Another eight miles like that and I hit the turnaround.
After the turn, the winds seemed a little more squirrelly but not necessarily any stronger. I was pretty sure the angle of the road changed a bit after the bottom 8 miles and I thought the angle of the wind would improve at that point. The things we tell ourselves ... Within those 8 miles there's a bypass over an inlet that's maybe a mile long (it certainly felt at least that long). When I hit that thing coming back all hell broke loose. There were a ton of guys around me all pounding it out in aero and I absolutely thought I was either going to be blown into them or possibly off the bypass altogether. I carefully but quickly popped up onto the basebars, installed a death grip and held on for dear life as my front tire whipped back and forth like a snake on coke. My semi-positive attitude was a thing of the past.
That bypass kinda ended it for me mentally. I do think the winds were more squirrelly for the rest of the 20 miles, but at that point even if the wind had died down altogether I'd probably claim that it was a nightmare. So I just counted down the miles one by one, knowing that at some point the hell of the bike would be over. I complained to each and every guy that passed me, even though they seemed to be doing just fine. I held 80rpm and decent watts but watched my pace slow and the BestBikeSplit estimate slip away. I just wanted the damn bike to be done.
T2 - 2:26
I would say that I've never been so happy to be done with the bike, but thinking back to IM Coeur d'Alene 2015 and IM 70.3 St George 2016 I'm not sure that's true. It's not that I don't like cycling - I do - I just happen to be weather-cursed and cycling in bad weather can be pretty rough. But for sure this was in my top 3. Evidence of my total joy in the photo below.The Run - 2:03:06
My first mile was - as always - too fast. I try to run slow and easy, and pay attention to my breathing, but it always takes a mile to settle in. By mile two I'd found that entry pace and held it for mile three. At that point I was feeling good so I decided to step it up a little early. I figured I could up the pace every three miles and have a great run, just like I'd done in training. And the next three miles felt pretty good - strong, but not too hard; I was running well.
Of course, in training I hadn't biked 56 miles at 80rpm with some mentally draining crosswinds before my progression runs. So by mile 6 I realized that I'd stepped up my pace a little too soon. New strategy: try to hold on to the pace as best I could, ONLY WALK AT THE AID STATIONS, and then give it all I had for the final 5k.
One thing I hate is looking back on my race and feeling like I gave up and walked too much. I always focus on those non-aid station walk breaks and think I should've pushed myself harder. This time, I was NOT taking extra walk breaks. Luckily the course - the most compact, bendy, twisty run course I've ever been on - was pretty helpful. The next turn was always pretty darn close and served as a good intermediate goal to help get me from aid station to aid station. So even though my pace slowed a bit, I stuck to my plan. YES.
I was happy to hit that 10 mile mark, although I didn't feel at that point like I could start to push toward the finish. But when I hit the 11 mile mark I started to pick it up. Those final two miles felt strong, and I was happy to finish feeling like I'd given the day everything I had. (Well, probably not everything since I didn't land in the med tent. That's when you know you really gave everything, in my twisted view of racing.)
Overall - 5:40:17 / 16th AG
Really what I came away with was a curiosity about what might happy if I head to a race and have decent weather and can string together a good swim and good bike and a good run all on the same day. I could clearly crush my PR under those circumstances, but by how much? And yes, I'm already thinking about what race/s to sign up for so that I can find out.