The day started at 2:30 am. It was supposed to start at a "reasonable" 4:00 am, but after a solid four hours of sleeping, I think my body knew that it was about to enter a world of hurt and refused to get any more shuteye. After over an hour in bed staring at the clock and visualizing the race to come, I got dressed and had my breakfast and coffee. By 4:30, Annie, my mom, and I were on our way to the Olympic Oval.
Air in the tires and powerbars packed, I donned my wetsuit and headed down to the beautiful Mirror Lake. At 6:00 am, as soon as the water was open for warmup, I jumped in and found my stroke. Everything felt pretty good and this was shaping up to be a promising morning. The march out of the water and over to the starting line, as well as the anxious wait for the start, was absolutely surreal. I could not believe that after all the snowy runs and trainer rides, the biggest race of my Summer had finally arrived.
The gun went, and it was on. The new swim start made things smoother than a mass start, but the swim is still a full contact sport. A few kicks and punches later, and everybody was lined up and it was time to start passing the 200 meter sprinters who took it out too fast. By the halfway point of the first loop, I was swimming all alone, just the way I like it. In no time at all, I had caught up to the back of the women's pro field. The rest of that loop, and the first half of the second loop, were smooth and uneventful. Then I hit a wall of athletes who were still on the first loop, and had to weave through some very slow traffic. The traffic made the second lap noticeably slower than the first, but I managed to swing a quick 57:22.
It had been raining lightly all morning, and the carpet laid down between the lake and the oval had gotten wet. "Better not run too fast, or I'm going to trip," I told myself, but no good. As I took a sharp right turn, my foot gave out from right underneath and I was on the ground. "OOOOOH!" the spectators seemed to cry as one, and after half a second on the ground, I was up and on my way to my bike. Funny how little you care about a bleeding leg when adrenaline is running through your veins! Other than the trip, transition was smooth and uneventful, and before I knew it, my bike and I were reunited and ready for the fun 112 miles.
The first 20 miles out of town, including the humongous descent into Keene Valley, were wet and rainy. Fortunately, my swim put me far enough ahead of the bulk of the field that I had the road to myself, allowing me to use wide lines and the smoothest parts of the road. After the turn at the bottom of the hill, the "flat" part of the bike course began. During this fast stretch I just settled into my projected power, downed some fluids and took in solid calories. To make sure there was always enough fluid on board, I grabbed a fresh bottle of sports drink at every aid station along the way, even if I had two unfinished bottles. This turned out to be a smart move, when at one of the early aid stations I missed not one, but two bottle hand offs, but still had enough liquid to get me to the next station. After 30 miles of steady smooth cycling, it was time to make our way up into Wilmington, home of Whiteface Mountain. During this early climb, I caught the only other guy in my age group who swam faster than me. To discourage him from chasing me, I made sure to pass him like I meant it and never look back. This climb was the perfect place to do it! Once it flattened out I got back down into my aerobars and took a quick peek behind me. Nobody. Now I was ready to hit my power all the way to the end. For the most part, this was a smooth and uneventful ride. Other than wheelie I did for the spectators (their idea, not mine!) not much happened and I held a decent wattage all day. The toughest part mentally was when the wind picked up coming back from Wilmington to Lake Placid on the second loop, but having trained on the course I knew to expect it in the afternoon. I came off the bike with a 5:22:04 split, and leading my age group. (Side note, I am convinced that smiling teeth are more aero than closed lips, see photo below).
Second transition was quick and easy, and my legs didn't even feel like they were filled with cement! Helmet off and shoes on, ready to run.
I had been warned over and over again that its easy to cook yourself on the first loop of the bike course and ruin the rest of your day. Avoided that fine. I also heard that you can run out way too fast in the opening miles of the marathon since they're downhill and everybody is cheering for you. Checked that one off just fine as well. I think where I screwed myself over just a bit was on the return into town, where you have a couple of tough hills and tons of cheering about the downtown scene. From miles 11-13, my effort was just a little bit too high, and as I began to leave town for my second loop of the run, it started to show. My pace went from a steady 7:30-7:40 mile to 7:50-8:00 mile. Not a problem, still plenty fast enough to get me home with a decent run split. Then around mile 19 it happened. I hit the proverbial wall. It felt like somebody swung a mallet into my face, and I simply could not run. My balance was gone, I was lightheaded, and there was just no way to resume a running gait. Only one thing to do- grandma walk. For the next couple miles I made attempts at running again, only to be reminded that I still had no balance. Walking was all I had, so I worked with it. "Forward progression," I told myself. Three agonizing miles later, after a few aid stations of coke and sports drink, I was able to shuffle back into a 8:00-8:30 mile pace, which felt impossible at first. Finally I got to mile 24, and with everybody cheering including a few friends from back home, I was flying up the last hills again. Ok, maybe it wasn't exactly "flying," but compared to the preceding miles, these last two felt easy. As the crowd cheered me back onto the oval, I was passed by Adam Quinn, who hunted me down to the final tenth of a mile, and I crossed the line second in my age group. It was heartbreaking to be beaten so close to the finish, but such a huge accomplishment to finish as well as I did that it was just fine by me. My 3:53:00 marathon split brought me in for a 10:18:58 finish.
The next morning at the awards breakfast, it was confirmed that my age group would have two slots for Kona qualification. I was in! Claiming my spot and registering for Kona was one of the proudest moments of my athletic life. The rest of the day my phone wouldn't stop buzzing with texts and facebook messages of congratulations from friends and family who had heard, and some who had even watched the finish on the live feed. I can't say enough about how thankful I am for everybody's support, but there I want to especially thank two people for playing a tremendous role this weekend. Mom and Annie, the two of you were helping me every time I asked you to hold this or that, agreed to whatever dinner plans I deemed necessary to fuel right, and stood outside cheering and photographing in the rain for over ten hours. You both even managed to get out of bed at the ungodly 4 am! Lastly, I want to thank God. Yes, God, the guy who I don't mention too much in my posts because I don't formally worship. The Adirondack Mountains are a sanctuary, and I truly believe that God watches over the world from this place. I'm not thanking God for giving me a trip to Kona, I fought for that myself. I guess I'm thanking God for the opportunity to wake up and train everyday, and for the network of love and support surrounding me.
Speaking of which, it's time to start training again. Some friends and I are doing a relay race this Saturday, and I better be in shape to swim for them! Next race on the calendar is the Lake George Triathlon, an Olympic distance dash, and I'll be building all month for the 70.3 World Championship in Vegas this September. And not that anybody's counting or anything, but there are only 73 days until I race on the Big Island!
