We checked into our hotel in Providence on Friday afternoon. Registration was quick and easy, which left us time to begin packing our transition bags before heading out to enjoy Restaurant Week in Providence. Yum! Saturday was a bit crazier. This was a point-to-point race, meaning that we started and finished at different locations. A change of pace from races we’ve done in the past, but it did mean additional steps and pre-planning. Saturday morning we hopped in the car to take our bikes and bike gear down to the starting point at ocean’s edge about forty miles south of Providence in Narragansett. Yeah. Apparently the entire state of Massachusetts descends on this beach on the weekends. What should have been a 45min drive took us over 1-1/2hrs, but at least we made it. It took just a few minutes to rack our bikes and check out the swim course. So far so good.
We planned on using the race cue sheet to drive the circuitous 56mile bike course back to Providence in order to see what we had in store on Sunday. Yeah. Apparently Rhode Island balances its state budget by saving money and not producing street signs. So a cue sheet telling me to “Turn right on Rt 3” means nothing if you NEVER EVER cross a street bearing a Rt 3 sign. And this happened repeatedly. As a result three things happened: 1. we never did see the entire course; 2. we ended up lost in the ‘hood of downtown Providence saying “we must be lost, they’d never have us racing through this neighborhood”; and 3. it took us almost as long to drive as it did for me to bike the entire distance the next day. But back to our hotel eventually no worse for the wear. We felt like old folks ordering the early bird special, however when your alarm is set for 2am, you eat early. So at 4:30 we wandered next door to the Union Station Brewery for some burgers and it was lights out by 7pm. Stuart managed to fall asleep, but I distinctly remember seeing 10pm on the clock. Ugh, nerves!
2am came quickly. Coffee, pb&j’s and some Gatorade, then we were off to catch the shuttle to the starting point. The bus was predictably quiet, but nervous energy and a pounding heart still preventing me from getting another quick nap. Once we arrived at the start line, all weariness vanished. Bright spotlights scared away the darkness, and upbeat music blared from speakers as I assembled my transition area. “Stuart, look, there’s Lisa Bentley!” I was in the same race as one of my favorite pro triathletes! Just one of the many things I love about this sport.
We wandered around, got our wetsuits on, and before we knew it, Stuart was in the starting corral. I stood on the shore cheering until I couldn’t see him anymore and then started chatting with another athlete. All of a sudden I realized it was MY wave in the corral. Shoot! I started running for the start line. Phew, got there in time and decided to seed myself in the very very back. I’ve never had strong swim times but always place myself midpack. This time, I decided to see what would happen if there weren’t any women behind me trying to swim over me. The cannon sounded and we ran towards the water. In the last few days since the race, I’ve been amazed at the number of people who talked about how choppy and difficult the swim was. For me – it was my best swim ever!! I decided to use a different breathing method – every 2 strokes instead of every 3. The result was I felt far calmer, always in control and able to keep moving forward at a steady pace. And, since I seeded myself at the back of my wave, I wasn’t constantly fighting for space in the water. In four years of triathlons, I’ve never before had a swim where I didn’t at least once contemplate quitting because the swim was too hard for me. A back of the pack swim, but still a success. Out of the water in 43:25.
A quick stop at the wetsuit strippers then on to my bike. I can divide the bike ride into two segments. The first hour, and the rest. The first hour was awesome. We biked along the coastline – stunning views of the ocean and some phenomenal seaside mansions.
I averaged over 18mph in that first hour of primarily flat roads. And then we turned inland…. When I signed up for this race, I’d been told that RI was flat. Apparently they were referring to the beach. The rest of the race was a series of practically nonstop rolling hills. The one bright spot was mile 28. Shawn and Abby had said they were going to come out to see us. I watched my bike computer anxiously as the miles crept by. And then, there they were shouting out to me, holding up a “Go, Tamara!” sign. They can’t imagine how much I needed that positive energy right then. I was so grateful to see them smiling and cheering! The next two hours were pretty much about just getting the job done. I passed and was passed back by about the same half dozen riders or so over the course of the bike, so we traded encouraging comments as we overtook each other. Not too mention all the comments about my cute pink outfit – socks, skirt, jersey (and eventually my lucky pink running hat). I love how friendly triathletes are!
The hill at mile 45 made me want to puke. That’s all I have to say about that. The last few miles of the ride were a little scary. Remember the day before when we figured we were lost in the ghetto? We weren’t lost – the race actually wound through the less desirable parts of Providence on its way to T2. Whoa. The roads weren’t totally closed off so we were racing at 20+mph on the shoulder of the road with cars backed up for ages and just hoping that they were obeying the police directing traffic. But, I finally hit T2. 3:18:08 for a 16.96mph average. Two legs down, and two good results.
And then came the run. I went into the race knowing I’d likely be walking most of it. Due to ongoing tendonitis issues in my left leg, my running has been almost nothing. I did a half marathon in early June and walked the last 3miles because the tendons in my lower leg kept spasming nonstop in an incredibly painful way. So, I didn’t have high hopes for my performance. Instead, I was focusing on how soon I would see my handsome husband out on the 2 loop run course. The initial mile of the run was downhill to flat, so I was cruising along comfortably. And as I passed that 1mile mark, who did I see coming towards me but Stuart! We stopped to kiss each other and get all teary-eyed, glad that the other had safely survived the bike. (We’re both always convinced the other is going to crash/DNF/something, so it’s always a relief to see each other on the run). Then he headed off to finish his first loop while I turned to see THE HILL. That’s right, THE HILL is this monster climb that we would have to do not once, but twice. Since I was in no hurry anyways, I didn’t even attempt to run it. Settled into a nice walk and cruised up. Ok, wasn’t so bad. Started to jog again at the top. Ran into a few of the same folks I saw on the bike. Ran and chatted with a few different peeps. I hit the far point and started back on my first loop and immediately starting watching for Stuart. He’d be running a lot faster than me. When I finally saw him I did the quick math. If I could keep moving, I could be at the finish line/turnaround point in time to see him finish!!! More than anything that helped me hustle through that first loop. I got back to the timing mat, stepped on it and stopped. Cheering spectators looked at me oddly until I explained that my husband would be finishing any minute and I wanted to see him. Sure enough – he came running towards the finishing chute looking strong as ever. I shouted his name and told him I loved him as he ran past me to the finish.
A little teary-eyed from happiness at getting to see him finish, I started my second loop. This one hurt a lot more. After walking to the top of THE HILL, my legs refused to run. At all. This was the moment I knew was coming. The next five miles comprised about 3/4mile of jogging interspersed with over 4miles of running. Other athletes were so supportive, but it was hot, I hurt, and my spirits were flagging. I just wanted to be done. I’d trained so hard for the last 8 months, and hated that I was moving so slowly. When I hit THE HILL heading down I decided to try and jog a bit. Not too too bad, so I tried to keep a steady shuffle as I neared the finish line. I peeked at my watch…as I finished the first loop I’d actually turned my heart rate monitor and stopwatch off since I knew that wouldn’t be the defining issue in my run time. So now I realized that if I could finish in less than 5min, I’d at least be under 7hrs. Pathetic, but a goal nonetheless.
Turned the final corner, shuffled up the last rise in the road, and there it was just another two hundred yards away. I spilled across the finish line in 6:59:51. I burst into hot, tired, sweaty tears of gratitude that I was done. They put a medal around my neck and wanted to take my picture but I was sobbing too hard. It took a minute or two to calm down and smile for the camera. Still hadn’t seen Stuart. Eventually he found me and more tears ensued. Turns out he’d fallen and scraped up his knee, so was in the medical tent when I finished. He looked fresh as a daisy, since he’d finished over an hour and a half before me. Nice guy had waited – I probably would have left him a note with a volunteer and gone back to the hotel without him!
Too tired to speak, I laid down on the grass for about ten minutes before we began collecting our stuff. Chatted a bit with some DC Tri teammates and thanked as many wonderful volunteers as we could.
Later that afternoon we limped next door to the Union Street Brewery again to make up for the calories burned that morning. Oh so tired!
It’s been a few days since the race ended. And while I’m still not pleased with the final time on the clock, all in all I am proud of my performance. Strong results (for me) on two of the three legs, and a massive test of mental fortitude on the run. I might not be *good* at triathlon comparatively speaking, but despite that, I love this sport.
Back in Ohio for a long weekend with our parents and wonderful friends. Besides the great time with Karin, Todd, their sons and our families, it also gave me the chance to get off the W&OD trail and run beyond the normal chaos of DC's inner suburbs.
A visit to the internist the next week had him coming to grips with the idea that a year's worth of training was for naught. We were disappointed but trying to be philosophical about it. On Monday though, he finally got to see the orthopedist. Amazingly, the sports medicine orthopedist says that physical therapy and not surgery is the answer. His arm will remain somewhat odd-looking, but will regain full functionality and strength. It may affect his swim and therefore finishing time at Ironman Florida, so his goals may need to be adjusted. But, most importantly, he will be at the starting line on November 1st!!! So, no more sadness after two weeks of missed workouts. Instead, he's got work to do. We've got a race to attend in 6 weeks!!!
