Kinetic Half Race Report

Third half ironman done, and never before have I ever questioned why I do triathlons and whether it’s really fun. The Kinetic Half was on May 9th at Lake Anna State Park here in Virginia. Going into the race, I was already a bit nervous. I’ve worked on my swim, and done more running than before my previous halfs, but the unpleasant spring weather really limited the time I spent outside on my bike in the last two months. I’d already been joking that Lesson Number One would be “no early season long-course races”. That lesson came across loud and clear.

Friday night I basically didn’t sleep. The alarm was set for 2:45, but I was awake at midnight, I was awake at 1:30am. Maybe I got 90min of sleep total. Not ideal, but I slept well on Thursday night so hopefully I’d survive. The morning’s oatmeal didn’t sit well, and my iPod broke inexplicably, so before even leaving the house at 4am things were already a little off. On the plus side, the thunderstorms the weatherman had been predicting hadn’t materialized, so the rain maybe wouldn’t be as much of a factor as I’d feared (little did I know).

Shake it off, and arrived at Lake Anna by about 5:30. Plenty of time to get bodymarked, set up transition and hand off my transition bag to Stuart to keep the area clean (a mistake I’d pay for later), and get in a quick warm up in the lake before my wave started the 2-loop swim. The water was perfect – in my wetsuit, 68 degrees felt comfortable. I think I may have also finally gotten over my panic in the swim. I’m still not thrilled with swimming, but was able to stay calm and felt like my form wasn’t horrible. Clearly, I’m still not fast though, it may be time to start going to some Masters swim sessions since I’m not improving on my own. 43:29 (10/13 in my AG).

The last few hundred meters of the swim I was feeling queasy, and as I ran to T1, I told Stuart that I thought I might puke. In fact, I was pretty surprised that I didn’t. I tossed my wetsuit towards Stuart and the dogs, took a minute to get my bearings and was off on my ride. T2 3:35 (7/13AG).
The bike was a two loop rolling course. Some awesome downhills where I hit 30mph, but some long grinding uphills in a headwind where literally I was going 8mph a few times. For about the first 45min I was regularly sipping my Infinit and taking in water, but my stomach still wouldn’t settle. Maybe I’d mixed it too strong, but I also think I was going too hard on the bike and just didn’t realize it at the time. I gave up on the Infinit and stuck with water and Clif Shot Bloks. This was the price I paid for not having done sufficient bike training in the crappy weather this winter and spring. I didn’t see too many women, and so wasn’t sure if I was so far behind everyone, or (more unlikely) if I somehow managed a decent swim and was towards the front of the pack. Looking at results later, I really was in a “no woman’s land” with most women either much faster swimmers, or much slower cyclists than me.

The second loop started to wear on me and I found myself wondering what if I quit. I mean, sooner or later everyone is bound to get a flat tire or DNF, right? What if today was my time? This was the start of my descent into the darkest place I’ve ever been in an athletic event. Finally, the bike was over and I was back in transition. My mental state was still a mess, but I’d done pretty well considering the winds, the poor pacing, and my struggle to get in sufficient nutrition. 3:19:42, 16.8mph average (6/13 in AG)

Now for the run. My earlier mistake in cleaning up my transition area cost me. Instead of rain, the sun had emerged, and my sunscreen was back in the car so I have some vicious burns on my shoulders and forehead. As I left T2 – FIRST IN MY AGE GROUP, BABY!!! (1:41, 1/13AG) – I was hating life. Leaving transition was a long uphill and Stuart was waiting with the dogs. I stopped in front of him, gasping for air on the verge of fully hyperventilating. I told him I wanted to quit, that I really thought I couldn’t do it, and that there wasn’t enough time anyway since I’d be walking the whole thing and would DNF, but he convinced me to do “just one lap”.

It was scary. The heat index was 89 degrees by midday. I walked the uphills, shuffle-ran the flats and downhills and kept trying to push myself out of the darkness. I told myself that I didn’t want to face my friends, colleagues, and Girls on the Run girls if I quit. I thought of how ashamed I'd be. I told myself that I was only feeling this way because I was bonking, but that I could do it. I finally managed to realize that my math was wrong, and even if I DID walk the whole thing, there would still be time to finish, and so since I was doing some running I knew I’d be fine. That helped. With that first lap under my belt, the hyperventilating and crying went away, and then it was just time to push through. Stuart and the dogs were there waiting for me again at the end of each lap – although Joe decided to take a quick swim in the lake rather than greeting his mom!

The run was a death march. I have never seen so many people walking in a race like that. We’ve had such a cool and rainy spring, no one was prepared for the amount of sunshine and heat and humidity. I gulped water and coke at every aid station, stuffed my shirt and shorts with ice (lovely chafing in all sorts of special places as a result), and swallowed salt tablets whenever they offered them. With a little more than half a mile to go, I suddenly cried out in pain, as my posterior tibialis finally got the best of me. I was frustrated as another woman in my AG passed me with less than 300yds to go, but I couldn’t complain as it had held out for over 12-1/2miles. I gimped to the finish, never so happy to be done with a race in my life! Run time of 2:51:07 (9/13). My final time was 6:59:31 (7/13 in my Age Group).

Part of me is disappointed. Although my bike training was lacking this spring, I have a solid base, and I’ve worked hard on my swim and run, which clearly wasn’t reflected here. On the other hand, now that I see the results and realize that I was solidly mid-pack, I guess I can’t complain. The wind on the bike. The heat and humidity on the run. No one was prepared for any of it and we all suffered together.

I’ll be spending the next few days thinking about how to structure my summer training to fix some of the glaring weaknesses. I need some swim lessons. I need more time on my bike on hilly roads as opposed to just the W&OD. And of course any time I spend running is goodness. This was scary. I’m re-thinking my readiness for an Ironman next year – especially one as hot and humid as IM Louisville – but I know there’s time to make that decision. But, as much as I hate the pit I found myself in during that race, I’m also proud that I conquered it. I didn’t quit. The mental training and the visualizations are helping. Feeling crappy and at the same time identifying it for what it was, and thereby tricking myself into keeping moving, was something I couldn’t have done a few years ago. I suppose it’s all part of the process. It’s why I do this – growing, knowing what I’m capable of, and maybe just maybe having some fun in the process.