What can I say about Mooseman 70.3, held on June 6 in New Hampshire? Fantastic. Exhilarating. Motivating. And, just a little bit frightening.
It was worth every minute I spent on the course (as well as every penny I spent to enter and race), as I learned a great deal about being a smarter, stronger, and more strategic triathlete. I also learned that personal bests can be measured by more than time. No, I didn’t finish the Mooseman 70.3 course in less time than I completed the Bassman half ironman last October. In fact, I crossed the line a full 30 minutes slower.
But, during this race, I battled some fairly aggressive voices that were trying to convince me that I was out of my element, that I might not finish. But, I finished strong, more confident in my abilities, more motivated to achieve my ultimate goal of completing a full ironman, and more focused on doing what it takes to make sure I achieve that goal. And that makes this race one of the best I’ve ever raced.
Here’s how it all shook out on race day.
Race Morning
We woke up around 5:00 a.m. race day morning to partly cloudy skies, and temperatures in the low 60s/high 50s. Weather prediction: steady rain all day, winds ENE 10-15 mph, thunderstorms likely, a high of 62 degrees. I was hoping at this point that the weather prediction would turn out to be incorrect – I mean, that happens all the time, right? Never mind the fact that this weather forecast had been steady for the past 5 or 6 days, Oh, and did I mention there was a tornado watch?
Meteorological evidence to the contrary, I was staying positive. While they were predicting a 70% chance of rain that meant that we had 30% chance of good weather. And 30% is better than 0%. I clung to this optimistic view—until the rain began falling just as the swim was about to start. At this point, I went to plan B: just keep smiling! (Try it – it works.)
The swim
As I waited for the announcers to call my swim wave (the last one of the morning), the wind picked up, the temperature dropped, and the rain was a persistent pest. The lake was warmer than the air, so I started my warm up a little bit early, with some easy swimming and some drills. With about 5 minutes to go until my wave start, I stayed in the water up to my waist because it was warmer than standing on the beach. We were very lucky in this respect because Mooseman veterans told us Newfound Lake is usually very very cold – sometimes 55 degrees! This year, it was 67 degrees.
Then, the volunteers were calling my wave to go through the opening chute. We stood on the beach, waiting.
“90 seconds,” called the announcer.
“30 seconds!”
Then, the sound of the air horn. I waited about 30 seconds before heading in, as the other athletes ran and kicked their way into the water. I started just a bit to the right of the buoy line to avoid the washing machine chaos that is the swim start of a triathlon. Then, as I worked into my rhythm, I swam in a diagonal line until I was just a few feet from the buoy line and hugged it the best I could for the remainder of the swim. These tactics help me keep my heart rate under control, which can sometimes be an issue during the swim start, with all of the excitement and chaos.
Newfound Lake is a wonderfully clear and clean lake. When you can sight the buoys by finding the lines underwater, you know you are in a clean and clear lake! Out of all of the triathlons I’ve done (not a huge number, but 12 at this point), this was by far the nicest lake I’ve raced in so far.
I had a great swim, finishing the 1.2 mile swim in 38 minutes – shaving 2 minutes off my previous half iron swim time.
The bike
If I judge my bike based solely on my speed and the time it took to complete the course, I would be severely disappointed. Goodness, I’ve done 70 mile rides faster than I did this 56 mile ride. Luckily for my self-esteem, there are other ways to judge quality. In fact, I consider this ride one of my best in terms of navigating and dealing with treacherous weather conditions (it poured the entire time). It was a technical course that went in only one of two directions: up OR down.
How can I claim a 14.5 mph average bike as one of my best? Simple. It was, by far, one of the hardest and scariest bike rides I’ve ever had—but I finished it. I was ridiculously afraid of the 6-9% grade downhills before it started raining. Then, once the deluge hit, I think terror is not too strong of a term to describe my mental status as I began the 56 mile trek through the mountains.
Yet, once I got going, I found that I was able to focus on the course, breathe deeply (thank you, Yoga!) and my anxiety subsided, supplanted by the desire to finish (ah – there’s that competitive drive!).
After about 2 to 3 miles, the course starts heading up–and keeps going up for several miles. The first few climbs seemed hard, but they were nothing compared to the climb up Devil’s Hill. Going up to hell? Yup. It’s a relentless and fairly steep climb (6 to 9% grade). The best part? I found out that I can climb! On every single climb, I passed people. Yay for my big, strong legs J.
As I approached the top of Devil’s Hill, I heard music, and then saw a woman dressed in a devil costume, rocking out to music and congratulating each of us as we reached the top, took a breath, and prepared to go down. She was a welcome (and funny) sight. The various spectators along the hill were also great, offering plenty of encouragement to keep grinding. One guy was soaked, dancing and screaming like a maniac, “You are so awesome! Keep it cranking. Oh, yeah – look at you climb!” Hilarious!
What goes up, must go down. And down we went…and went…and went. As the course continues along North Groton Road (see map), there is a steep descent that ends with a relatively sharp turn to the right, onto Hall’s Brook Road. During the race meeting, we were warned that there would be a 30 mph speed limit on the descent on this road.
Gulp!
I took a deep breath, kept my hands near my brakes and pointed down. And, I made it—twice (a two-loop course). Granted, I heard the word “left” more times than I ever have in my entire life as cyclist after cyclist whizzed by – some going well over 40 miles per hour. Suffice to say, I wasn’t anywhere near this speed. I would have had to stop pumping my breaks for that. 😀
Once at the bottom, I gave myself words of praise: “I love you, girl!”, “You are so awesome!”, “Look at you beasting this hill.” A little bit of self-praise never hurt—especially when I realized I would have to do those descents a second time.
I thought doing the second loop of the course was easier because I knew what was coming, and I was able to be more strategic with my gearing and approach to the climbs and descents. If this is a key race for you, I recommend riding the course a few weeks before the race. (I think this is a good tip for any type of race.)
As I came into the finish of the bike, I couldn’t stop smiling. I started to get a little bit weepy, partly from an overwhelming sense of relief that I was finished with the bike, and partly from an enormous sense of accomplishment in completing a particularly challenging bike course. And, the fabulous support from the spectators lining the final half mile of the course was emotionally overwhelming.
So, what did I learn? Despite the fact that I have the strength and stamina to charge on the bike, my timidness is holding me back. If I hope to become seriously competitive, I need to get more comfortable and aggressive on the bike. I can safely navigate the downhills—I just wasn’t particularly fast. I estimate that I lost anywhere from 20-30 minutes by not taking full advantage of the downhills to compensate for the slower pace as we cranked up the hills. If I had been able to do so, I would have had a PR on this race, since both my swim and my run times were significantly faster than my previous half ironman times.
The run
As I started the run, the rain was coming down harder than ever. But, at this point, I didn’t care. I was hot, and the drops were keeping me nice and cool. About a mile into the run, I saw John coming back the other way. He saw me, and I could tell he was relieved.
“There she is!” He yelled, “Kick some ass, girl!”
He made me start to weep again. (Side note: I have found that all of the training makes me emotionally vulnerable. I can cry on demand. It’s a skill.)
I ran strong and steady, averaging an 8 min/mile pace overall, and working negative splits for each 5k of the race. That was the race plan, and I stuck with it. More than the numbers, however, I felt very strong on the run. I was worried that my legs might be a little torched from the hills on the bike, but not so.
The finish
My overall finish time: 6 hours and 25 minutes, 30 minutes shy of a personal record in terms of time. While I didn’t achieve a PR for this race, this personal best is measured by overcoming a challenging, technical and very wet bike course despite (somewhat) irrational fears.
Our goal for the Mooseman 70.3 was to learn vital information about how well we have been preparing our bodies and minds during the past 23 weeks of training. It served this purpose perfectly. With less than 7 weeks until Ironman Lake Placid, I’m feeling confident in my abilities. For anyone who might be planning on doing Lake Placid Ironman in the future, I highly recommend the Mooseman 70.3 as a tune-up, check-in race. The bike course is challenging and technical, and from what I understand from Lake Placid veterans, equally if not even more challenging in some ways than the Lake Placid course.
I learned more during this single race than I did over the course of the entire triathlon season last year. In my next post, I will include some tips specific to this course, as well as the half ironman distance generally. Please check back :).
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