When I got off the bike almost 14 minutes down from the leader at Toughman Championships in my last race of the season, it was impossible to ignore the simple of math of what it’d take to win: over 1 minute per mile faster than the lead woman…for 13 miles. When my coach asked “you ok, Cole?” as I ran my bike into transition, I told him I biked well, but my friend, travel partner (we stayed and raced in Ireland together!) and lead woman, Bec Wassner, swam and biked phenomenally. How I whittled down a 14 minute deficit didn’t unfold like I expected, but triathlon rarely goes the way one plans.
A Dunkin’ Morning
The morning began with loading bikes (plural, since my boyfriend and race soigneur, Colin, races bicycles and would be using his to cheer for me!), in the dark, onto a dewy roof rack. We ordered Dunkin Donuts while on the FDR and arrived to pick it up by the George Washington Bridge just a few minutes later. Amazing how efficient driving can be at 4am on a Sunday morning in NYC. I could only hope my race would feel just as fast.
We arrived at the race just before 6am for a 6:45am start. I felt a little rushed, but Colin gave my bike a lookover, pumped the tires, and put it in the right gear. It took him all of three minutes, but it was a huge help. Just like during races, every second counts!
Minimizing the Deficit
The elite men and women started together, so I hoped for fast feet to draft. Since Bec is an incredible swimmer (she swam 23 minutes!), my goal was to minimize the deficit out of the water to five minutes. While I swam 90% of the swim by myself – the closest swimmer in either direction was 1:52 behind! – I kept the deficit to exactly five minutes.
Wheeling and Dealing
I didn’t actually know my deficit until mile 12 of the bike course, which was the first turnaround and where Colin was stationed to tell me the time gap. I had a feeling the deficit was more than desirable when he said something generic instead of a time gap. It turns out I was over 8 minutes behind Bec. But I kept riding my race – after all, what else could I do? After the first of two loops, the deficit grew to 10 minutes. After the second loop, 13. As the deficit grew, my hopes shrunk. I could feel the chance of victory slipping out from my fingers.
Sometimes, there are moments in races where you make deals with yourself. I started to write the narrative in my head, “well, it was a pretty good season closer. I got second place to a phenomenal athlete and 14 year professional, with whom I am friends. It’s kind of poetic how we traveled together to Ireland and then, in a race closer to home, she got to win in front of her three(!) children.”
Making a Run for It
As mentioned in the intro, I was in a good head space during T2 in a brief exchange with my coach despite being 14 minutes behind Bec. I set out on the run, which was in the open sun in temps hovering around 70. Unless Bec suffered an ailment or the heat got to her, I knew there wasn’t much of a chance to win. Thus, I ran a pace that I absolutely knew I could hold. The run course had over 1,000 feet of elevation gain, which meant that I ranged between 6:20 and 8:20 pace! The swing in pace could be mentally defeating to some athletes, but pure physics helps me rationalize the drastic swings in pace.
At mile 8, I was 7 minutes down on Bec. I did the sobering calculation: it took me 8 miles to make up 7 minutes, yet I only had another 5 miles to make up the final 7 minutes. And yet, I kept running around 7 minute pace. Was I hoping for a gust of wind that hit only me? An extra 3 miles to be suddenly added to the course?
At mile 10, the course ran adjacent to the transition area and onto a large concrete boardwalk along the lake. You can see a half mile of shoreline before entering the woods for the final out-and-back.
“Fifty seconds. Five zero.” Coach Cane said as I ran by him. I turned to him with a face that resembled this classic meme:
That’s when I looked ahead and saw Bec. I was quickly closing on her, and my heart broke for her and rejoiced all at the same time. I never wish anything bad for my competition, only the best for myself. As I passed her, she said she was running on one leg – her calf had seized on her and she had stopped earlier to attend to it.
I ran the final 3 miles in front of the golf cart escort, as a lead woman does I suppose! I ran through the tape, ecstatic with the win as much as my season overall.
My dad was my first Coach (Little League) and the first to hug me after the finish. My mom was next, looking adorable in her Dun Laoghaire 70.3 shirt. My niece and brother also witnessed their first triathlon ever. I nearly cried (again) when my niece said I was a superhero!
I don’t think it’s fair to say I learned a lot from this win. It is fair to say I reinforced a lot of what I learned all season during this win. I reinforced the importance of racing my own race. To focus on what I can control when I feel like I’m in no man’s land. To always carry salt tablets just in case. To never stop believing that things can change in an instant. To appreciate my health, my execution, and having loved ones there to witness it all.
