Archive of race reports for ultragrrl.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Black Diamond Half Iron Relay 2003

Jennifer Huffman-Swift
Sheryl Tullis
Debbie Swanson

Swim Leg - Jennifer

I had originally signed up to do this race myself but my knees weren’t cooperating this summer. So, not wanting to miss out entirely, I talked two friends into racing with me, Sheryl and Debbie, who is my long time training partner.

The race started the day before with registration, the usual packet pick-up with the twist of changing our registration. I was told the lake temp that morning was 60 degrees and I was so nervous I had to ask the registration lady four times what the balance was that I owed. I then walked down to the lake to check out the course. It was then that I realized how much trouble I was really in. One lap was OK but two was impossible. I tried to stare it down, as if to challenge it, but what came back was a challenge to me.

That night I didn’t sleep much.

The race day started off bright and sunny. My hopes of a warmer swim were lifted but dashed again when the race director again told me the water was again 60 degrees. I looked around the transition area and EVERYONE had a full wetsuit and all I had was a farmer john. Again, extreme nervousness. After the usual struggle to get the wetsuit on while trying to look like I do this all the time I headed down to the water. There were only 4 or 5 of us dipping our toes in. Ten minutes later the area had more folks but again, no one in a farmer john. The water didn’t feel too cold for me and I paddled around, feeling much more confident than I expected.

I was in the last leg so we took off at 9:15. For some reason I froze. Half way to the first buoy I was still dog paddling and I was freaked out at the thought of having to do TWO laps of this hell. I fell behind everyone in my wave, which meant I was dead last. Wow, how depressing. I struggled to find my rhythm and finally found it after the third buoy but by that time I was too late. Everyone was ahead of me and I had no hopes of catching them. I wanted to give up but couldn’t face a DNF because there were 2 more people on my team waiting for me. I kept swimming. I felt really good once the rhythm was found and didn’t feel out of breath. By the time I was around the third buoy on my second lap I saw a group ahead of me by about 5 hundred yards. I focused on them, thinking to myself that I might be able to catch up. Each time I looked up to sight the buoy I was closer. Then, I spotted her. The gap between us was getting smaller and I knew I could catch her. My only thought was that maybe I won’t be last after all.

I came up behind her like a shark (OK, a guppy) and passed her with at least 200 yards to the finish. I couldn’t believe it. My steady rhythm worked! The crowd went wild, literally. Everyone was cheer and the announcer was doing a color commentary of my race to the finish line. I got up to run to transition and was so disoriented I had to use a buoy to catch me so I wouldn’t fall. My husband tried to reach out and grab me but someone from the crowd told him I would be DQ if he did. He ran along beside me as I tried to negotiate the cones to the transition area. He told me about turns, where to enter the transition and where to find my team. If he hadn’t been there I might have ended up in the parking lot.

I tagged off to Sheryl and sat down. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On one hand I had finished on the other I had finished in an embarrassingly slow time. The girls made a valiant effort to make up the time I lost but there was no way they could account for that much. That night I sat on my couch, slurping down a Subway veggie sub and though about the day. Before I made up my mind on how I felt I was asleep on the couch.

The next day I woke up decidedly happy. I realized the time really didn’t matter. I had learned some really important things

  • You can be terrified by something but still rise to the occasion  
  • The person in front of you can be a great motivator but your friends are the best
  • Finish time really doesn’t matter when you face down the monsters out there and survive
  • I can do better next time

 Bike Leg - Sheryl

  
When Jen asked me to do the bike leg in a relay of the Black Diamond Half-Ironman, I hesitated. I knew I would be running the Outward Bound 170-mile team relay in Colorado the week before, and I knew I wasn’t trained for either event. I accepted because I want to move up to Half-Ironman distance next season, and I wanted to see what the race was like. However, I decided to focus on the running event since I had committed to it first. Since I had done long distance rides in the past, I wasn’t worried about completing the bike leg, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to maintain a competitive pace. My longest ride this season was ~30 miles, just under half the distance of the 63+ miles my odometer showed at the end of Black Diamond.

  
My strategy was to go out at a decent pace to make up some time early on, knowing the “significant climb” halfway through the course would sap some strength and that the last third of the bike course would be more will power than muscle. I carried two water bottles, 3 GUs, a balance bar, and Chapstick. I planned to take 1 GU every 20 miles or 1 hour; whichever was closer to a flat section of road. I took 1 GU and lots of water while the swimmers were doing their thing. I was extremely well hydrated at the start. In fact, waiting for the tag from Jen, I wished I would have made one more trip to the Honey Bucket. I accepted that I would just have to stop at some point to answer nature’s call.


The bike course was three 20-mile loops. Loop 1 was a combination of rolling hills and flat stretches. Loop 2 was the Mud Mountain loop, with the course’s only “significant climb” around mile 28-30. Loop 3 was exactly the same as Loop 1, only slower. J


My ride went something like this:


 T1: Where’s Jen? I got undressed too soon and I’m freezing. My spiffy leopard print arm warmers look very cool with my purple jersey though.

Loop 1

Mile 1: Dang, where are all the other cyclists?
Mile 3: Dropped my Balance Bar onto the road. Bummer.

Mile 10: Dang, where are all the other cyclists?

Mile 15: Hey, the “significant climb” isn’t supposed to be for another 13 miles! I take it seated and my left hamstring wishes I hadn’t.

Mile 17: There’s my Balance Bar! I’ll just cross over and grab it so no one hits it on their third loop.

Mile 19: Hey, there are the other cyclists! Wait – that’s the race leader, coming back for Loop 3 before I even finished Loop 1! He’s as hour ahead of me
Loop 2

Mile 25: Finally passing people – have 8 confirmed kills (defined as “passing people who are actually moving”) and 6 more road kills (“passing people who are on the side of the road repairing tires or visiting the bushes”).

Mile 28: Begin ascent of Mud Mountain. This isn’t so bad. Couple flat spots to catch my breath, keep pedaling….passing people….

Mile 28.5: OK, this is getting steeper.

Mile 28.8: Is this the only Granny Gear I have?

Mile 29: Please, Santa, bring me a triple chain ring for Christmas!

Mile 29.5: Water bottle exchange – supposed to toss an empty but I’m using my favorite Ben and Jerry’s water bottle that Karolina gave me, and the other bottle is still full. I tell them I don’t want water or sports drink – just a Honey Bucket. They tell me there’s one a half mile ahead.

Mile 30: Top of the hill and a Honey Bucket – Hooray! I make a quick pit stop and am very happy. Plus I get a nice long downhill to spin out my legs.

Mile 31: Have a dozen kills now, plus about a dozen road kills. Lots of flats.

Mile 35: Who turned on the wind? Part headwind, part sidewind, not too bad yet, but I wish I had leg warmers. They would really complete my fashion statement.

Mile 40: 2/3 done! Avg. speed has slipped from 19.1 mph to 18.2, but not too bad a drop considering the hill. Still feeling ok but legs are getting tired.

Loop 3

Mile 43: Legs really starting to hurt now – need to stretch out. I start standing up on the small hills just to stretch.

Mile 48: My speed has really dropped. I realize I haven’t been drinking water and my legs are paying the price of dehydration. Mentally I’m not focused enough and I almost run off the road into a ravine. Adrenaline kicks in for a minute.

Mile 50: Suddenly I’m starving. I realize I’m bonking, so I take a couple of bites of the rescued Balance Bar. I feel better quickly and pedal against a now-stiffer headwind on toward that insignificant climb that my hamstring remembers.

Mile 55: Just before the hill, an Army helicopter formation flies over, with Apaches and Scout helicopters that make me think of my brothers who pilot those aircraft. This distracts me enough to get up the hill with no difficulty.

Mile 57: I am whimpering aloud now, just telling myself to keep going because Debbie is waiting for me.

Mile 60: Two women pass me. And they’re doing the whole tri, not a relay.

Mile 63.4: I roll into the dismount area with a final avg. speed of 17.3 mph. My time is a humbling 3 hours, 40 minutes.

T2: I tag Debbie, tremendously happy I don’t have to run a half marathon at this point.


T3: After a quad/hamstring massage and some post-race food, I’m a new woman. My Loop 3 reservations about doing a Half-Ironman myself start to diminish.

I notice I’m the ONLY person in a purple jersey at the race. Everyone else recognizes the leopard print arm warmers. Definitely racing in these again – got comments all along the course. Maybe when I do a Half next year……


Run Leg - Debbie

Since I've never started a race so late in the day before, I spent most of the day trying to figure out what and when I should eat. I ended up having a couple of bananas and an energy bar, even though what I really wanted to do was to hit the post-race BBQ early. It was almost 2 p.m. when I tagged Sheryl and started my run.


The race web site described the run course as "a combination of trails and beautifully paved roads that is totally closed to traffic." It ended up being mostly roads open to traffic. Most of the route was down a bunch of dead-end roads and back again. I kept trying to figure out which side of the road I needed to be on to avoid oncoming runners, but they were running towards me on both sides. I'm sure I lost time by crossing back and forth so much.


I've never felt so not worthy in a race. I felt bad every time I passed someone. I knew they'd feel better about being passed when they saw the R on my leg. It just felt very cheap, since I spent my day resting while almost everyone else had been swimming and biking.

Biggest mistake: My biggest mistake was taking my shoes out of retirement for one last run. I was planning to wear my new shoes that were only slightly broken in. However, I changed my mind when I thought that the course would be mostly trails and didn't think it would be too hard on my legs. Unfortunately with hardly any cushioning between my feet and the road, my legs were hurting my mile 9.


Closest to getting sick: One of the volunteers offered me "Gatorade." Forgetting that the drink was AllSport, I grabbed it and drank some.


Closest to getting lost: At one turnaround, there was a cone indicating that it was a turnaround but I somehow missed this obvious sign. I started running down someone's driveway before turning around and asking the volunteer if I was heading in the right direction. He said, "Oh, no, sorry, you go back this way." Glad I asked.


Worst part of the run: The worst part was a busy road where runners in two directions (most were running towards me) were sharing the narrow shoulder. I kept slowing to let runners by so that I didn't have to run into the road.


Best part of the run: The last part of the run was the best. It was great coming back into the park and knowing that I was close to the end. Plus, I finally got to run on the trail, which was nice and shaded.


My time was 2:14:05--pretty leisurely. I was treating this as a training run (for the Seattle Marathon), but was hoping for under two hours. Oh well, it was fun.

(Debbie)





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