2013 Eagleman Triathlon Race Report: Possibilities, Penalties and Mudpits

“5 seconds… 3… 2…,” the announced said, and then the siren went off.

Eagleman Triathlon Swim
Heading out for the start of the swim.

And so began the 16th swim wave (females 40-44) at the 2013 Eagleman Triathlon. With 30 Kona slots and 40 Vegas slots, some of the biggest studs in triathlon come to play at Eagleman 70.3.

And there I was, in the water with them.

I felt like I was swimming strong, passing caps in my age group once the fray settled down. After some time, I was also passing caps in the 2-3 waves prior to mine.

Eagleman Triathlon Swim Course
The way out to the first turn buoy was okay. But, then I got jiggy with it.

I thought I was swimming strong. I thought I was sighting well and swimming a straight line. I thought I’d be coming out of the water around 34 minutes or so.

Yeah, I thought wrong.

I came out of the water in 38 minutes. I looked at my watch and I was disappointed. I felt like I was swimming a little too hard to come out at that time.

I saw John on the sidelines and gave him a thumbs up. I knew he’d be wondering what the heck happened to me on the swim. That made two of us!

The negative voices wanted to take over: Ugh. You are out of this race. 

The positive voices countered: Anything is possible. Yup, I borrowed that one from Ironman. It’s a good slogan. I’m going with it.

It was way too early in the race to let the negative voices start telling me what was and was not achievable.

Here’s the thing: we don’t have to listen to the negative voices. If we listen to them, they get louder. But, if we counter them with the positive voices, they go away.

As I ran to my bike, I thought of what I had heard Sister Madonna Buder say before the race started. I’m paraphrasing: “We are lucky to be able to do this today. Enjoy the day and the blessings we have.”

Buder, an 83 year old triathlete, who continues to compete in half and full iron events and is the oldest person to ever finish an ironman, embodies the spirit that anything is possible. Her positive example would help shape my possibilities for the day.

As I found my bike in transition, I noticed there were still a lot of bikes in my area. See? You aren’t out of this yet. 

Score 1 for the positive voices.

It was time to ride. My thought for the bike: Have a ride you can be proud of.

Last weekend, in Lake Placid, I had a terrible ride. The kind of ride that can shake your confidence a bit. I was on a mission to prove it was a fluke.

Mission accomplished. My official bike time is 2:44, a 4 minute PR over my previous half iron best.

But, really, I finished the bike in 2:39, a 9 minute PR over my previous best.

Why the discrepancy? I got my first penalty. Ugh.

It all happened very quickly.

I had just come through a sharp left hand turn, and I was overtaking two other cyclists (well within the time frame allotted for doing so), but just as I did so, another person passed me on my left. USAT rules clearly state that you have to drop back before you can try to overtake someone who has just passed you. So, I dropped back, but was caught next to the other cyclists I had just passed, who had NOT dropped back as they were supposed to (and who were also on each others’ wheel. No, they did NOT get a penalty).

Not exactly caught between a rock and a hard place, but I was caught between one draft zone and another.

The official said I was in the draft zone of the woman who had just passed me.

I asked her what I was supposed to do in that situation, since I thought dropping back was the correct protocol (as per USAT rules.) She said I had to pass the woman that passed me.

I was dumbfounded. Have I mentioned that the USAT rules state you have to drop back when someone passes you before you can try to re-pass them?

Another interesting tidbit: the rulebook also says that these rules do not apply when you make a turn of 90 degrees or more. We had just made a sharp left hand turn.

I was so confused. So upset. I said, “You saw what happened there. I couldn’t get out of that.”

She repeated, “Don’t argue with me or I’ll give you two penalties.”

Okay. Fine. Let it go. The official can only go with what she thinks is happening.

The negative voices tried to pipe up again: Now the race is really done. Forget it. 

Positive voices countered: Leanda Cave got a drafting penalty and won Kona.

Nanny-nanny boo-boo to you, negative voices.

Just keep going. Anything is possible. 

Who knew how handy that Ironman slogan would turn out to be? It’s like it was made for this race or something. Oh, wait a minute… Never mind.

I finished the bike in personal record time, spent my time in the penalty box about 100 yards from the timing mat, watching as the seconds (and my competitors) ticked by. I wanted to be proud of my ride – and in terms of effort I was. But, this incident was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow.

The super nice volunteer in the penalty tent said, “I’m going to count you down from 5 and you can go. 5…4…3…2…1…”

I was off, running through the marshy mudpit leading into the transition area. There is about a 100 yard run from the bike dismount to the timing mat at transition. And, a dousing of rain had turned this area, as well as the transition field into mud-mageddon.

Riding dirrrtttyyy!
Riding dirrrtttyyy! This is heading out of T1 in the morning. By the time I came back for T2, it was ankle deep mud. Nassssssstaaayyy!

As soon as I racked the bike, I put the episode behind me. I was miffed, but it was time to run.

Out of T2, John yelled to me, “Run them down, Maria! They are right there.”

He posted on Twitter, “Going to need to crush the run to catch up.” Even though my bike was a PR for me, I started the run 28th in my age group. My fastest ever bike is just not fast enough when you are in a field of studs.

On the run course, I was mentally prepared for super hot and humid, as that is the fame for this course. Physically I had prepared by super-hydrating on the bike pushing bottle after bottle of water with Nuun. I didn’t feel dehydrated at all – and was peeing regularly. My head was clear, and I was ready to rock the run.

The positive voices were winning the battle this day – by far. My mantra for the run: Run ’em down.

I focused on my breathing. I went through a checklist for my form, which I find very helpful in the opening mile of the run (and beyond as needed). You can run a little crooked off a hard bike, so this focus on form can get you set up for a solid run.

Heading out for the run. John said I was miserable. I prefer the term focused. I couldn't waste my energy on a smile. The best I could do was a weak hang loose sign.
Heading out for the run. John said I looked like I was miserable. I prefer the term focused. I couldn’t waste my energy on a smile. The best I could do was a weak hang loose sign.

In terms of the heat, we lucked out, relative to previous years. It was about 85 degrees, with some humidity. There are parts of the run where you can feel the stillness and heat of the marshlands. But it was manageable.

I went through my aid station protocol as best as I could – ice in the shirt, pants, hands (for those aid stations that hadn’t run out of ice), water in the mouth and over the head (for those aid stations that hadn’t run out of water), cola whenever it was available. I ate a Cliff Shot Blok every 2 miles or so. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I meticulously selected a target, identifying the person I wanted to run down. Once I caught them, I selected the next target. That approach allowed me to pass 313 people, 14 of which were in my age group.

Anything is possible – but you have to believe and, yeah, you have to work hard. I was hurting on that run – make no mistake. But, I did not allow the negative voices to convince me that the pain was bigger than my desire.

I told myself that the pain was a sign that I was working hard – as I should be. This was a race. Not a recovery run.

I finished with a 1:38:19 run. A ~1 minute PR over Bassman just a month ago.

My total time was 5:05, giving me a 1 minute PR – even with the crap swim and the 4 minute penalty–my own personal scarlet letter. (Full results from the race can be found here.)

I wanted to be happy with my success, but the instant I crossed the finish line, my disappointment and frustration about the penalty took over me. I unsuccessfully tried to fight the tears.

Fighting the tears, seconds after crossing the line. How lucky to have the moment captured for posterity...
Fighting the tears, seconds after crossing the line. How lucky to have the moment captured for posterity…

John was so confused: “What’s going on? Are you shutting me out?”

I was afraid to talk, because I didn’t want to turn into a sobbing mess. Turns out, I couldn’t avoid it. I blurted: “I got a penalty!”

And, there I was, at the finish line of Eagleman. Crying.

Normally, I cry with joy. This was different. I was disappointed, frustrated, and yeah, a little pissed off.

John, in his usual calm and cool manner, replied, “So what? Shake it off!” After I explained what happened, he responded, “There’s just too many people on the course. They oversell it, and if you get stuck in a later wave, like you did, it’s hard to pick through the field all day long.”

He was right. I had spent the entire bike ride passing long lines of slower riders, who were in the waves before me – all 15 waves before me. I burned many many matches working to pass those lines of riders (who were on each others’ wheels, mind you), to avoid being in the “draft” zone. And, then, to get stuck with this penalty in the final 10 miles simply hurt my heart. But, it didn’t break my spirit.

Despite the penalty and the craptastic swim, I’m still happy with the race. While I had a great day, I can’t say I would return to Eagleman. I miss the mountains. I think I’ll be returning to Quassy next year – if I don’t throw Coeur d’Alene into the mix.

For those of you considering Eagleman, you are in for a super flat bike and run course along mostly rural farm roads. It’s pretty – but after a while, it all looks the same and it does get a little boring. The course can be hot, and those who have done the race in previous years say that the wind can be soul crushing at times. There was no major wind to speak of this year, and as I said, the heat was manageable. However, many reported that the previous year was horrendously hot.

I liked the swim, as that type of open swim normally suits me just fine. I just happened to have a bad day. The water was not clear, but I didn’t expect it to be. I’m used to swimming in the bay and ocean, so I felt right at home. One thing I noticed is that the buoys are pretty far apart, so it gets tricky to sight – especially since there aren’t too many landmarks you can sight off of. I felt like I was sighting a bit blindly as you turned around and headed back to shore. And, the course mapped by my Garmin 910 clearly shows I was swimming squirrely.

Eagleman Triathlon
The effects of making it through mud-mageddon. Poor Rooby-Roo needs a bath.
Sherpa John to the rescue!
Sherpa John to the rescue!

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Have you ever done Eagleman? How did you like it? Have you ever gotten a race penalty? How did it make you feel? 

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