This past weekend, I raced Eagleman 70.3 for the fourth time. It’s one of my favorite races.
My
adventure to this race started back in late December. From what felt like a place so far behind but
as I’ve learned many times before, this was an opportunity to show myself how
hard I could work to not just get back to where I was but faster. It didn’t start well. To keep my heart rate under 150 bpm while
running, I had to run 9:45 miles. On the
bike, my heart rate for my usual “easy” watts was in zone 3! I was heavy, slow, unfit. I had taken 9 weeks completely off to go
through IVF. In the process, I gained 11
pounds and lost all of my fitness.
I
had one goal that I wanted to work for:
to race as fast as I can at Eagleman.
I set my PR of 4:32 on the course back in 2007. I wanted to see how close I could get to
that. Ambitious but I was ready to work
for it.
Progress
was a quick, easy drug as it often the case when you return after time
off. Never underestimate the power of
deep rest. It recharges you. You get hungry for the work again. You get more focused. By February I was catching glimpses of my new
self – bigger but stronger. I set a new
bike test personal best. I swam 10,000
yards (mostly!) without toys on a 1:30 base.
My run chugged slowly along but I never got impatient. I knew it would come around.
By
March I was starting to feel more like the self I left off in September. I was able to handle a bigger workload. I went to California to ride my legs into the
hills. I could feel my fitness coming
around, finally. In April, the work started getting more race
specific. I started to see how I really
could go fast at Eagleman. Things
started coming together.
Then,
somewhere in early May, I had a dream.
Understand that I never, ever dream about racing. I don’t have the “I showed up late” or “I
showed up naked” dreams. NEVER. This time was different. I dreamt that I was racing Eagleman. And I went 4:39. As corny as it sounds, it was that dream that
made me believe that I wasn’t just feeling faster, this could really
happen. That dream sat in the back of my
mind during every training session. When
I saw “4:30” in Training Peaks for my race time, I knew I wasn’t delusional –
the proof was in the training and Kurt agreed, if everything came together,
4:30s were within reach on race day.
A
week out from the race, I felt ready. I
had successfully whittled myself down to race weight (this took a lot of
chicken, sweet potatoes and kale). I was
swimming really, really well. My running
was as good as it’s ever been. In fact, I had set a new personal best on my
usual long training run route. My biking
– we had a very tough spring; cool, rainy and super windy. And when I say super windy, around here that
means steady 20-25 mph winds so strong that you cannot go aero! I did many of my long rides on the trainer
but I knew would help me for the nonstop flat course of Eagleman. I felt confident.
Race
week. I was healthy. I felt good. I was tapering my way into feeling fat and
cranky – ready! The day before the race
I did my usual run and swim. I felt not
so good on the run and phenomenal on the swim – this usually bodes well. That night, I was in bed at 8 pm and up the
next day at 3:20 am. The alarm was set
for 4:30 but Chris and I were both up saying READY TO RACE! We drove to the school to park, hopped on a
bus and found ourselves at transition.
RACE MORNING!
This
year, transition was bigger than usual as they added over 500 participants to
the race. With the heavy rains,
transition was also a muddy mess – the bike out was about 50 meters of
mud. Transition felt frenetic and
crowded. There were bikes RIGHT on top
of mine and athletes packed tight. Just
when I thought I was ready, two of my gels exploded in my bento box after I
dumped all of my salt tabs into it. And
next, even worse:
HALF
OF MY COFFEE SPILLED ON TO MY BAG.
(and
this was the first cup of coffee I had in over a week)
I
wanted to cry!
I
finally gathered myself and got into the porta-potty line, made a new best
friend and then spent the next 20 minutes applying Body Glide.
How
is it that 1 hour of waiting turns into 5 minutes to go in what feels like less
than 10 minutes? I found a place to warm
up outside of the course. The water felt
great and I knew I was ready to go. As I
floated water for the race start, the announcer started naming off names in my
age group. I tried not to listen! Somehow, I lasted 6 months without looking at
the start list once. Who was there? WHO CARES!
All I can control is me and how I respond on race day. In my mind, I was the proven winner at this
race. I had done it, I had won it, I kept saying to myself. I went there knowing I could win my age group. Would
I? Well, that’s why we race. Let’s find out.
The
swim. The water was the perfect
temperature and I felt amazing. A few
women pulled away from me at the start and then, for the rest of the swim, I
saw not a single woman in my age group.
I just swam! I had clear water
the ENTIRE time (except around the buoys).
When I hit the final turn buoy, I sensed the swim was long and knew my
time would be too. But it didn’t
matter. I tell myself to never judge the
outcome of the race based on swim time.
I’ve won with 28 minute swims and 38 minute swims. I looked at my watch, thought so what and ran into transition!
Transition
was large. I knew from years past that
you could gain some time in transition while everyone else seems to get lost in
its enormity and their stuff. Put
everything possible on to your bike: nutrition, salt, sunglasses. All I had to do was put on my helmet and run
out of there! I’ve never been a fan of
the “shoes on pedals” to start and with the mud run out of T1, I actually
carried my shoes, threw my bike against a fence before the mount line, put on
my shoes and took off! Once I mounted,
the road was a weaving mess of men trying to get into their shoes!
My
plan is always to take the first 20 minutes more relaxed. This settles your legs and heart rate into
the race. Per usual, the course was very
congested. I was passing like crazy just
to get around racers and find a space on the open road. Once out of the neighborhoods, I settled in:
I had my fuel plan that I always use, I had my range of watts I expected to
hold, I went aero, dialed into 90 rpms and rode. Within the first 5 miles, I passed two women
in my age group. At that point, I
suspected I was either VERY far behind or leading. In either case, chase or be chased. GET GOING!
The
day was perfect. No wind. NONE.
Is this really how people ride?
There are some rides so windy at home that I cannot hear myself
think. Today – the air was still, low
humidity and temperature was perfect.
Ideal conditions. And on a course
like this in those conditions? I knew I
could go fast. I ride like this all the
time at home – totally flat, aero, nonstop pedaling. I was ready.
No
sooner was I settled into my confidence than a woman in my age group darted
ahead of me. I looked down. I was within my range of half Ironman
watts. I looked up, she traveled further
down the road. I looked down again, half
Ironman watts. And that was the last I
saw of half Ironman watts. I said to
myself, it’s time to abandon the plan and RACE today. I knew today that any woman who passed me
would be gunning for the age group win – if not overall. I kept her within sight and watched my power
climb higher and higher. I surged past
other competitors. And then – it
happened again. I got passed by another
woman in my age group. Moments later,
another. And another! They were swarming!
It
became abundantly clear that I was going to have work – VERY HARD – for it
today. How hard? Try a normalized power 35 watts higher than
what it took to win long course nationals in September (it was also a flat
course). OUCH! I immediately went back to all the years on
Ragbrai where I rode far past my limit day after day after day. My legs could do it, they just hadn’t done it
in awhile. But I made up my mind: anyone
who wants to get past me is going to also have to work for it – bad. It was a risk I had to take. To grasp the urgency of NOW and race in the
moment without worrying about the consequences.
Any time someone passed me, I gave it right back to them a few minutes
later. In between, steady head down and
work. Just when I thought – this HAS to
have tired them out (and wondering: would this tire me out?) - I would hear the
whooshwhooshwhoosh of another wheel surging past me. Which meant I would have to surge a few
minutes later – YET AGAIN! In the end,
it took an average wattage that was 3.7 watts/kg for 2.5 hours. THAT was work, my friends!
Finally,
I was nearing the end of the course. In
my mind, it was time to bank some energy for the run, no more surging! But at mile 50, two women passed me –
aggressively. I figured they would not
put enough time on me in the last 6 miles that I wouldn’t be able to make up on
the run. Turns out the 1 minute they
gained on me in the last 6 miles, was the 1 minute that would mean the difference
between a good and great race. A lesson
learned: if you’re going to go after it,
you’ve got to give it a complete effort.
You don’t let people go with 6 miles left.
Unsure
how my legs would feel after the harder than planned effort on the bike, I set
off on the run course to find that other than some nausea, massive blisters
forming and the feeling that my left quadricep had painfully adhered to my IT
Band – I FELT GREAT! I was on track to
break 4:39. It was really
happening! The weather was perfect for
running. Let’s go!
The
first few miles went by quickly. I
focused on form, turnover. The run at
Eagleman is dead flat, no shade with a 3-4 mile out and back where you can see
your competition literally within reach across the road. I had my eyes pinned on the girls coming back
at me. I knew the range of numbers
competing in my AG and went hunting. As
I got closer to the turn around, I got more confused – WHERE were the two women
in front of me? How could I not be
seeing them? Meanwhile, around mile 6, a
girl in my age group came up beside me:
Where are they?
Who,
I said – at this point I was thinking maybe there ARE no women in my AG ahead
of me because how could she and I both have not seen them?
The two in front of us.
I
said I didn’t know and she ran next to me.
And then it hit me:
Someone
just caught up to me on the run and was running next to me.
This
RARELY happens.
My
immediate thought was, Liz, you have two choices today. Play it safe or GET OUT OF THERE. We hit the turnaround and I knew it was time
to make a move, now or never.
I
went. Surged ahead, trying to put as
much time between us as possible. What
if I was first and she was second? Maybe
the other women dropped out? Because,
you see, I still hadn’t seen the other women.
(And this STILL baffles me. If someone finished 1 minute & 20 seconds
ahead of me, why 40-60 seconds from the turnaround didn’t I see them when I was
looking?) I kept pushing and tried to
make myself as small and invisible as possible after passing men. I didn’t want to turn around to see where she
was, knowing that she would probably interpret that as weakness. Never look back! Instead, when I hit any corner, I snuck a
peek – only to see that with 3 miles to go she was STILL about 20 seconds
behind me. COME ON ALREADY!
I
told myself to push it another mile, and another, just keep stringing these
miles together, even in the last mile which is the LONGEST MILE EVER in any
race and you swear the turn to the finish line is right there, no right THERE,
when finally, I hit the turn and sprinted to the finish line – just in
case. My run time? It was ok,
a bit slower than what my training told me I could do but there had to be a
cost for over-biking and it was paid.
The
finish line. FINALLY! Kudos to the military group who was there offering
medical help. I had 3 officers carry me
to a chair, stick giant chunks of ice under my armpits (THIS FELT AMAZING) and
pour cold water on my head. It felt a
little overdramatic but who am I to deny being tended to be three uniformed
men? Soon after, Chris found me and said
there were two women ahead of you, with
one a little over a minute.
All
of a sudden, I felt really upset.
You
see, I ended up 3rd in my AG, 4th amateur woman overall,
15 seconds behind 3rd overall and 1 minute 20 seconds behind 2nd
in my age group. I’ll look past the fact
that in my last 2 races I have missed 3rd overall by literally
seconds (seriously, I need to stop scratching my arm out there or something)
but what bothered me is that when it was all said and done, my age group had
two Kona slots allocated. Which means I
missed the slot by … a minute twenty.
Over
the course of 4½ hours.
It’s
taken me a few days to think about it. Overall
I am proud of my race. I met my
goal: race Eagleman as fast as I can. In
Kurt’s words, I landed myself on “podium proper” at one of the fastest 70.3’s
in North America. At age 37, I came within 5 minutes
of my PR at the 70.3 distance. And the
most exciting part – I know that I will go faster one day.
On
the other hand, I got close – tangibly close to going to Kona. I got so close to going again that I feel like
I fell short of myself. My husband got a
slot, my good friend got a slot and I came up empty-handed. On some level, I feel like I failed at a time
I’ve felt fitter than ever. Especially
since I qualified 3 times before without feeling this fit, without working as
hard for it. Why this time did I miss it?
After
a few days of shuffling my regretful and sore self around the house, I decided
it was time to get over it and myself. I was being too hard on myself. You can expect big things but you can’t
expect things will always go your way.
That’s why we race – because we don’t know the outcome. We race to find out. So respect what you find out, be proud of the
work you’ve put into it and the person you’ve become in the process. I raced well on Sunday. Just turns out that someone showed up who
raced a little better. No matter how
hard I worked for it or how bad I wanted it, I got out-raced. And that – is what gets me fired up to train
and race the next time. To see if I can
be a better, faster, smarter athlete. To
see if I can be the one who outraces everyone else.
On
that note, I am going to spend the next week overcaffeinating, sugar buzzing
and mid-day drinking when I feel like it.
That’s right, I’m fighting inflammation with inflammation – if it isn’t
full of processed flours, sugar and dairy, I’M NOT EATING IT! In another few days I’ll feel so sick and
bloated that I’ll get back in the saddle, literally, to set my sights on the
next big thing:
POTTY
TRAINING!
Well,
that and…
VEGAS!
(yes,
I narrowly missed 100+ mile rides in 90+ degree heat in exchange for 3 hour
rides in 100+ degree heat.. WHAT was I thinking!?)
And then I'll conclude my season in Kona, standing outside of the Energy Lab, tempting my husband and Jen Harrison towards outside assistance as I hold a package of Depends.
YOU'RE WELCOME!
Thanks for reading.
