I’m posting this with few notes and even fewer photos, but I feel like there are still some good nuggets in here, and I like reading back on my older posts to understand where I disengaged mentally and physically and take those learnings for the future.
Let’s start from the end: I placed 9th in the 2021 Augusta 70.3, just one spot out of the money. I was so close but so far; four minutes separated me from 8th place, so I wasn’t agonizingly close or anything.
Colin and I drove the van down to Georgia from New Hampshire, and we stopped en-route at our dear friend Ozzy’s place in Charlotte. He is a magical, expert mechanic (no, like, actually: he teaches expert mechanics how to wrench!) and swapped my chain ring for a larger one. Time for me to put on the big girl panties (if chain rings were panties!) The day before the race, it was nearly impossible to get in a decent bike ride. It felt like every road we chose was bumpy, potholed, and/or with no shoulder. Next time, I would ride over to South Carolina or shakeout somewhere else entirely. I then understood why all of the race materials warn you against biking on the course (which is a highway), because they’re the only smooth roads out there!
We slept very close to the race start; I won’t say how close because it almost felt illegal. On the morning of the race, Colin jogged the mile from T1 to the race start with me, which was super sweet of him. It made my nerves slowly climb instead of skyrocket.
Swim: I almost caught a break when Ellie Salthouse forgot a swimskin (it was on track to be wetsuit legal, but was 72.6 or something just over the threshold). Maybe this would be the day that I kept up with her for 3 minutes! She borrowed one from the crowd instead. The swim was downriver, and the sheer fact that I was in the water for 23 minutes instead of 30 made it that much easier to stay in contact with the group. The downside of this downhill swim? It smelled like cigarettes and gas fumes from boats. I could barely see buoys. I was 10th out of water in 23:23.
Bike: The bike leg was like a go kart course the first 5 miles, then…desolate! I couldn’t see out of my visor at all (humidity and dew!) so I had to give the visor several swipes for safety while riding, and I tried to keep Danielle Lewis and Sarah Bishop in sight. Some nice roads, some shitty bumpy cracked roads which made pushing 160 watts feel like over threshold. There were four significant climbs, and I really pushed them, but I pushed the first much more than the subsequent ones. I was SUPER happy to have swapped for larger chainrings for this race, because they were needed for the descents. There was an out-and-back at mile 40 where I had a hard time keeping engaged. There were also frequent smells of manure and animal processing plants (if I had to guess). Colin was somehow in three different spots on the desolate roads. It made me push harder every time I saw the big red van in the distance, and then smile once I could hear his cheers. My split was 2:31:04 and I felt better when I realized I had the 10th fastest bike split.
Run: I told (Coach) Julie before this race that if I don’t run under 1:26 on the pancake flat course, something is wrong. We were lucky with slightly cooler-than-usual temps in the low 70s with 80% humidity. I started out a little optimistic in 6:21, and then every mile up until mile 9 was 6:28-36. Then a ghost from inside my leg squeezed my left hamstring so tightly, I came to a jog. Then a walk. Then a stop. I clutched my hamstring. I averaged 18 minute pace for the next minute as I approached an aid station, with volunteers cheering me on. I ferociously ate some SaltStick chewable salt tabs that I was carrying with me. The way I started to hobble to the volunteers at an aid station, and their resulting cheers, made it feel like they were witnessing something special, as if I had just spent a week on bedrest and was taking my first few steps!
But I’d be lying if I said the volunteers weren’t helpful. They were so motivating, and a few athletes running by me told me to keep moving. I chugged some Gatorade and jogged apprehensively. I didn’t trust my hamstring. Nor did I trust my calves, which suddenly started to express interest in joining the cramp party.
But I eventually started running a similar pace, about 6:40s. I think the monotony of the flat run course, the humidity of the day, and my own failure to consume enough salt all contributed to the cramping. I switched to water halfway through the bike course, and Maurten gels offered on the run course are very low in sodium. Duh! I finished the run in 1:26:37 and did a 4:26:21 overall.
This wasn’t a bad race for me, but it wasn’t great. It was objectively the worst one of the year in terms of performance. I’m still glad I did it, of course, because the downriver swim was a huge advantage, as was the rolling bike course. Will I be back? Maybe, but I love experiencing other parts of the world I wouldn’t have otherwise thought of visiting. Even if they’re smoky and smelly.
