I am neurotic about being prepared and having my gear organized. Perhaps you remember the pictures of my gear for Lake Placid, all carefully laid out and prepared. Or, maybe, you remember me writing about the packing lists I check and re-check to keep track of all of my gear.
Apparently, I took a break from that approach for the Cannonman half-iron distance triathlon, which was held on August 22, 2010 at the Shawnee State Park, in Schellsburg, PA.
I assure you, this break from the uber-Type A approach to racing was not freely chosen. There were several forces at work, conspiring to make my day more—hmmm, shall we say eventful?
John and I had signed up for this race as a “fun” race, as a let’s shake out the post-IMLP blues race. Yet, it started to feel like it wouldn’t be much fun. The level of control I usually like to have over my surroundings started to unravel.
I started my usual angst over the downhill portions of the bike course about a week or so ago. In some sort of twisted logic, I think agonizing over the downhills is how I prepare for them. Based on the elevation profile, it didn’t seem like this race would have any long descents, like Lake Placid. But, there were two shorter descents that had a 6% grade average, just enough that trucks should use low gear. Ooooh, my not favorite. To add to my altitude angst, the weather was calling for 60% chance of thunderstorms. Of course it was. Why not? Some rain will really increase the “fun factor” to the level of root canal. My fun race was becoming a bit daunting. Well, no sense losing sleep over it: can’t control the weather, can I?
Well, let’s fast forward to race morning, shall we? After spending the night wide awake (so much for the “not losing sleep” cliche), listening to rain drops pummel our tent for several hours, I was not exactly keen to do the race. In fact, I had contemplated scratching. But, that would be quitting. Can’t do that. Better to race 30 mph down a winding hill in the pouring rain than quit.
It was time for coffee, and boy did I need it. I had hardly slept a wink. The day before, I had carefully packed a thermos with coffee for race morning. I knew we wouldn’t be able to find any at the campground. So, I was going to be prepared. Unfortunately, my plans were thwarted because the thermos I had packed had busted when it accidentally fell out of the car. Okay, no biggie. I’ll just make sure the first gel I eat after the swim is the one with the extra caffeine. Accidents happen. Can’t control that, can I?
Off we went to the transition area, which was just moments from the campsite. (Side note: if you do this tri in the future, the Shawnee State Park campground is very convenient and beautiful. If you are not a tent camper, they have cabins and yurts. Reasonable rates.)
The race organizer only permitted race-day packet pick up. I hate race-day packet pick up. The controlling organizer in me gets a wee bit testy about race-day packet pick up. I like to lay my gear out, get my bike ready, and have all of my race numbers affixed, and so on the night before. What could I do? I can’t control the race director’s decisions, can I?
After I got my area set up, I looked over to where John was and noticed he was looking about, a bit frantically. Uh-oh, what did we forget?
“Do you see my race number around here anywhere?” He asked.
“They didn’t give you a race number?”
“No, they did. I just had it in my hand, and now I can’t find it. Somebody must have grabbed it and stuck it in their bag,” he said, accusingly. I looked around at the athletes next to him. None of them had the number.
“Well, let’s look through your stuff one more time.”
Indeed, someone had put the number in their bag. That someone? John. We found it shoved in the bottom front pocket of his transition bag, nice and crumpled. Can’t control that, can I?
Yet another mini-crisis averted, we headed down to the lake, just as the skies opened up and the rain came pouring down—yet again. Oh, yippee! I tried to look on the bright side: at least it wasn’t stinking hot. Nope, quite the opposite. I was shivering waiting for the race to start, about 20 minutes late, I might add. Yup, another thing I just can’t control, can I?
The lake temperature was 82.7-degrees. No wetsuits, which is fine with me. I know I’ll be a little slower, but so will everyone else. No biggie. The swim was mostly uneventful, other than a brief period when I got off course between the second and third buoys. It was hard to sight on the swim because there were no distinguishing landmarks on the way out, just the tree line. Maybe one more buoy on the way out would have made sighting just a tad easier. No excuses though. I can control my swim course, and I messed up. Overall time 39:49, which is about average for me (PR for the 1.2 mile swim is 38:12). I was a little disappointed, though, because I felt like my effort was more than average. I imagine going off course cost me some time.
Heading into transition, the first thing I wanted was that gel with the caffeine. Surprise! No bento box on my bike. What the he…? And then I remembered, I had taken the box off the bike when we drove the course the day before. (I didn’t want any of the gels to fall out while we were driving.) I never put it back on. So much for the Type A uber-organized person. I guess she’s on vacation.
I stood there for a minute. Can I do a half iron without any gels? I had filled my water bottles with Accelerade, about 240 calories worth, which was meant to supplement the calories I would take from the gels. For a half iron bike, I would need about 700 calories. I knew the bike aid station was somewhere in the middle of the loop. I could get the extra calories there, maybe. I knew they had Gatorade, but something told me there wouldn’t be gels (there wasn’t; yup, can’t control that).
F*** it, I’m going. I headed out of transition area, mounted the bike and was off.
A misty drizzle was falling, and the roads were still wet. I tried to get the anxiety out of my head. I was also haunted by my gel decision: Can I do this without full nutrition?
I was ridiculously cautious at first – even on the flatter sections. I was being a big baby. Then, around mile 20 or so, something clicked in my head, and I decided I was going to give it what I could. I concentrated on smooth pedal strokes, even cadence, steady effort. I let the bike go a little bit more than usual on the descents. One descent was almost a straightaway, that lasted for about a mile. I got up to 30.2 miles per hour—and I didn’t hit my breaks when I saw the 30! That is some serious progress for me. Look out, Lake Placid Descent – I’m coming for you next year!
It helped that the bike course is fantastically scenic, along rural roads that are open to cars, but there is not much traffic to worry about and there is ample shoulder on which to ride. However, some sections of shoulder are grooved. Overall, the course has about 2,500 feet of climbing, making it challenging. Albeit, climbing is a challenge I relish. Despite being a flatlander, I enjoy the lung-busting endurance of a good climb. There is no single tough climb, but rather a series of rollers and stair-stepping climbs. In this regard, Cannonman’s course is reminiscent of the second half of Lake Placid’s bike course.
I finished the bike in 3 hours and 24 minutes – not too shabby for me, especially given the elevation. Granted, it was one of the slowest bike times of the day, but in terms of my personal progress, I had a steady ride, steady effort and I made some bike handling progress. Had I been able to ride the entire course as strongly as I rode the final 30 miles, I might have had a bike PR (best is 18mph average).
Now, it’s time for the part I relish. The run course is one of the nicest I’ve been on for a triathlon. Most of the run was on trails that lined the lake. At one point, you run on top of the dam, overlooking the lake. It’s breathtaking!
Overall, there is 702 feet of climbing in the run, so definitely not a flat course. One of the hills is about a half of a mile, with about a 3% grade. So, the pace slows a bit on that section. But, you can make it up on some of the flatter sections and the downhills.
I had a great run. I started out with a cautious pace. And, then, I remembered: this is only a half marathon. I can punch it! So, I did. It felt wonderful to sail through the woods, picking off other racers one by one. I zeroed in on each person, and ran steady until I passed them. After the race, John laughed, and said, “That’s what you do.” I’m a road runner, honey, Beep-beep!
My run time was 1:51:56. Not the fastest half mary I’ve ever run, but given the hills, I feel pretty good about the time. It was the 24th overall fastest run of the day, and only three other women ran a faster half than I did. Not too shabby… Now, if I could only get that bike to move comparably fast…
My overall time was 6:02:18, which was good enough for a 2nd place finish in my age group, and 16th place female.
John’s performance was absolutely stellar. He finished in 4:56:02, earning second place in his age group, and 13th place overall. Kona! Kona! Kona! He told me last night, that he’s going to try and go for it next year at IMLP. Yeah, baby! Can’t hurt to tri, can it?
I recommend this triathlon if you are looking for a low-key, late season half-distance race. If you are comfortable with hills, I think it is a great first half-iron race as well. If you need spectators, this IS NOT the race for you. Except for other racers, you are pretty much alone out there. The other people you might come across don’t seem like they’ve seen too many triathletes.
Despite being (or feeling) a little out of control for much of the day, Cannonman was a great (and unexpected) success. Perhaps losing a touch of control can be a good thing. Now, where did I put that list…
