Napa Valley Triathlon: adapting on the fly, part I

Placed 8th out of 17th - not bad for a training race!

I signed up for the HITS Napa sprint triathlon a couple months ago with the intention of using it as a training race to get comfortable with things transition (I suck at them) and being in the water with other swimmers who like to grab, push and swim over you. I also excited as it would be the first triathlon that I actually was being trained for as opposed to the Lake Tahoe sprint and Donner Olympic which I did in the middle of marathon training and as my coach put it "relied on my running fitness to get me through". As race day approached, however, my excitement started to wan a bit - the lake temperature was not so promising. I already knew that the swim was known to be a cold one but it was looking like cold was an understatement. I've been in cold water before since Tahoe is the nearest body of water to practice any OWS in. It was going to be interesting to see how I tolerated water colder than Tahoe. And it gets better - the weather forecast was shaping up to be cold as well. It's ironic as I am usually worried about race day being too HOT, not too cold (I hate running when it's over 60 degrees). But I've never been on the bike when it's been less than 65-70 degrees and I certainly have never willingly gone swimming when it's been 40-50 degrees out. Oh dear. And I would be going to this race solo. My husband couldn't get the time off work so I would be on my own making the 4+ hour drive over to Napa. It's been a while since I've gone off on my own. I wouldn't be completely alone as I was meeting a fellow triathlete named Sara who I had met via our tri club, the Best Tri Club Ever. She lived near there and it was her first Olympic distance. We had already made plans to meet up this summer at Tahoe so I was looking forward to meeting her and possibly having an opportunity to cheer her on at the finish of the race.

It was SO cold that morning - setting up transition

Par for the course whenever I have to drive over the mountains, it was dumping snow the morning I had to leave. Yay! I carefully made my way over the pass and arrived safely at the hotel. Headed out to Lake Berryessa where the race was being held and where packet pick up was at. Oh, so much driving! It was about an hour drive from the hotel. As I got closer to the race site, I started seeing some 140.6 distance athletes still out on the bike. In the cold. And rain. Mad props to them. I would later find out that night they pulled about 30 athletes for hypothermia and it was a miserable race day due to the cold. I found the parking area and checked in, receiving my packet. It was real now. I was excited to be doing the first race in this training cycle for IMCDA 70.3. Headed down to the water where some athletes were getting in some swim practice and checking the water. Dipped my feet in and it didn't feel too bad. The sun had started to peek out and my spirits were high. This was going to be fun! I stayed a while to cheer on some of the 70.3 finishers who were coming in just under the cutoff. Then hopped in the Jeep and drove another hour back to the hotel. Tired of freaking driving, I was looking forward to a hot bath. Only...no bathtub at the hotel. Damn it. Picked up some Chipotle for dinner and then went through, setting everything out for the morning. I would have to leave the hotel around 4:30am to get to the race location in time to set up in transition. After I checked everything (twice....okay, maybe three times), it was time for bed.

Taped hand warmers to my cycling shoes...lol

I never have problems waking up on race morning and this was no different. Got dressed, grabbed one of my Superhero muffins from Eat Slow Run Fast cookbook and water then headed out the door. Arrived at the race to what seemed a bit chaotic and had to park what seemed to be about a mile away from transition. Oh, good. Dragging all my shit down there was going to be fun. Once I made my way into transition, I was pretty pleased with all the space each athlete had not to mention a little stool to sit on. So spoiled. I texted Sara to find out where she was at and not too much longer later, I saw her heading my way. Introduced each other, she helped me get on my wetsuit and then she was off to help Whitney (another fellow Best Tri Club Ever athlete) with an issue with her tires.

I was all zipped up and ready to go. Plodded down to the water and looked at the mist rising up from the lake. I should mention at this time...it was 38 degrees out and the current water temp was 57. Yep, I was going to freeze my ass off. I decided to skip the warm up swim as I was worried I would get too cold waiting for my wave. Once they called for the 30-39 and 40-49 women, I headed out to wait for the start. Took off for the swim and almost immediately realized that putting my face in the water was creating an odd sensation in my chest. It was like I couldn't breathe and my chest was super tight. I did some doggy paddling while my brain raced to figure out what to do. It was also at this time realized my goggles weren't sealing correctly on my face - the rubber was so cold and stiff that it wasn't forming a nice seal and hence, my goggles were leaking. To be continued......

Folsom Lake 50k: pushing past my limits. "We like to think we know things about ourselves. Those things are often what limit us" - Caolan

My first 50k. I’m not even sure where to begin. It’s been over a year and I’m just now getting around to writing about it. What does that say?? I’m still not sure how I feel about this race. It’s eerily reminiscent of Portland 2014, where I feel like I need a “do over”. Nothing went the way I planned, expected or wanted – other than the fact I finished under the cutoff and I was not DFL. I did learn that I can keep going even when I want so badly to just throw in the towel. I also learned never to believe the elevation profile listed. This 50k was only supposed to be about 2800ft of elevation gain and turned out to be over 3200ft.

The weeks leading up to the 50k were not good. I developed a sinus infection, strep throat and double ear infections. My stomach doesn't do so well with antibiotics and I was very nervous about having to take them so close to a race. Not to mention I was also missing training time. My coach assured me that I would be fine for the race even if I missed a chunk of runs this close to the race. I put my trust in her and *tried* not to freak out.

The calm before the storm :-)

We headed over the hill for the race and par for the course, it was dumping rain. Because it's always bad weather when I have go to Sacramento for races. We head to Fleet Feet and I pick up my packet. Now, it's real. I'm going to be running 31 miles around Folsom Lake. We grab a bite to eat and this is where things probably start to go wrong. I usually have pizza for dinner before most of my bigger races. We let the boy choose where to eat and he chose In-n-Out.

It really is a pretty course!

Yep, a cheeseburger the night before a 50k might not have been the wisest choice. I get to bed at a decent time and actually sleep. The next morning, I make my second mistake. My stomach is nervous so I decide to skip my usual oatmeal or toast with PB and banana. I eat a KIND bar. Not usually a problem but this was a deviation from my usual pre-race food. We leave a little later than I would like and I'm worried about getting to the start on time. Yet another thing that throws me for a loop and doesn't help my already harried nerves. As we pull up, I have less than 5 minutes to get to the start and it's a bit of a walk from the parking lot. I kiss the hubby and boy goodbye, say that I will see them in about 8 hours or so then shuffle off to the start.

I see another skirt wearer and strike up a conversation. Her name is Mimi and we decide to hang together for a bit. She's doing the 35k so I will have company for a good stretch of the race. As we head across Folsom Dam (pretty much the only flat part of the race), we chat about races. So far, so good. I can tell it's going to turn out to be a warm day. I stop to take off my top layer a few miles into the race. It's a gorgeous course but I can tell that I didn't train for lots and lots of ups and downs. I trained more on steep climbs and steep descents. That's what my legs are used to. They are not liking all the rolling hills and would rather be trucking up the side of a mountain right now. I let Mimi know that I have to pick up the pace a bit because I have a cutoff to make. The 35k folks don't have to worry about the cutoff but I do. Before I even get to mile 10, I have to stop for the bathroom. This is not a good sign. I've run marathons without having to stop. WTF.

Mimi and I in the first few miles

Mimi waits for me and we start down the trail again after I'm done. I try not to think about the 20+ miles yet to come. I glance at my Garmin and realize I really need to pick it up a little; I'm concerned because the time limit for the course is 8 hours and I know I have to maintain a certain pace. I tell Mimi I will meet her at the bottom of one of the hills. I'm also hoping there is a bathroom at the next aid station because my GI system is really unhappy. I come up to where the aid station is supposed to be but it's not directly on the trail. Nope. It's up this steep incline. Unsure of whether I want to make the trek up there, I call out to the volunteers asking if there is a bathroom. Negative. That makes my decision easy. Not stopping. It's also the turn around for Mimi so I'm not sure if I will see her again.

Gorgeous greenery

I head off into the wilderness alone. I decide I can't wait for the next aid station to see if there is a porta potty so I pull off the trail and hope I'm not traipsing through poison oak. I tried to educate myself before coming over here on what it looks like but I'm actually clueless. I have to repeat this every 2-3 miles and it's miserable. I come up to this crest on the hill and I see it's a nice downhill stretch to the turn around point in the race. I embrace the downhill and enjoy giving my legs a bit of a rest. Pick up a few snacks at the aid station, make sure I've got enough water in my pack and then turn around to head back up the hill I just came down. At this point, I'm stressing over cutoffs and I had inquired at the aid station where I was in regards to this. They said I was 17 minutes ahead of the cutoff but I'm confused because that would put the cutoff closer to 8 1/2 hours, not 8 hours. I feel the pressure of needing to move a bit faster but my stomach simply won't allow 17 min pace at this point. I try to run and have to walk; this pattern continues along with my bathroom stops.

By this time, I've run out of places for the bathroom and find myself facing Folsom Lake while all the boaters are out on the water, enjoying their day. It's hot as well, I'm sweating like a pig and my stomach is killing me. I consider quitting at each aid station I come across and then think, "I'll give it to the next aid station". And so on. I have to go somewhere else in my mind. There are tears. I think about my husband and son waiting for me at the finish line. I'm texting my coach and friend Sandra. Close to the cutoff at each aid station, all I can think about is how pissed I will be if I endured this for 8+ hours only to be told at the end that I'm not an official finisher because I didn't make the cutoff. F*ck that. I think back to the book Esther got for me, How Bad Do You Want It by Matt Fitzgerald. I try to recall passages from the book and that helps my mind move forward a bit.

Coming down into the last aid station

Lots of hills :-)

At the last aid station, with maybe 3 miles to go, I consider one last time quitting. By this time, my stomach is cramping so bad and I'm doubled over half the time. People strolling with their dogs are passing me on the trail. Humility at its finest! I see the dam and know that I have about a mile to go. I emerge from the trail and set foot on the dam. I can see the finish across the lake. So close. I get asked if there is a race somewhere and it occurs to me I'm out there, running (okay, maybe it doesn't resemble running much by this time) with a bib on while people are out with the kids, pushing strollers and walking dogs. Um, yeah...I look a little out of place. I smile and say "I think there's a race and I think I'm running it" then muster up a chuckle. By this time, I know if the cutoff is 8 hours, I have failed. But if it's 8 1/2 hours, I still have a chance. I text my husband to tell him to have a change of clothes for me and my recovery drink. I got this.

This kept me going...

Always looking at that darn Garmin!

As I hit the other end of the dam, a volunteer runs alongside me, cheering me on. While it doesn't sound fast, my last 1/2 mile was at a pace of 13:51. When you consider my overall pace was over 16 min/miles, it's pretty damn speedy....lol. My little boy meets me a few hundred yards from the finish and runs in with me. As I cross the finish, I am doubled over with exhaustion, pain and joy. I am an ultra runner. Me. The girl who couldn't run one stinking lap around the track just ran a 50k. I throw myself on the ground as hubby helps get my shoes and socks off then hands me my drink. I chug my recovery drink then realize I didn't get a medal. They ran out. Huh?? I will have to wait to get it in the mail. I inquire about the cutoff. They state it was changed a few days ago from 8 hours to 8 1/2 hours. Holy shit, I made the cut off!! It's official. And....I was NOT last. Two people finished after me! Woohoo!! I still haven't decided how I feel about that race as my trail marathon just weeks prior was a much better experience. Not all races can go the way we want. Folsom Lake 50k left me wanting more but it will have to wait until another time. I've got other big things to focus on at the moment. But someday, I'll be back for another crack at an ultra. My coach said once "we like to think we know things about ourselves. Those things are often what limit us". And never have I found this to be more true than this past year or so.

Fought harder for this finish line than any other race