sweetharriet

Race Reports take a while to get gelled in my mind. Thought you might like to hear about this race, though. I like to hear how people got TO the race, as well, so it's ALL going into the report. Suckas! (Or you can scroll down to the bold title).

The Musselman 1/2 IM is run in Geneva, NY, and was in its 2nd year this July. Race Director Jeff Henderson writes for Inside Triathlon , and you can read up on the race, its genesis, the Boys and Girls Club, etc. (including pictures ) at the Website .

I started training for triathlons through the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training program in May of 2004. I'd just collaborated with my parents on a road bike for my March birthday, and wanted to throw together my high school swimming (I think I woulda won Most Mediocre for all three seasons!), learning to ride this bike, and a running base. The good cause was a great motivator, but I seriously could only see myself screaming from boredom after mile 13 of a marathon. An Olympic tri seemed like a reasonable goal.

Last season's racing was amazing. I was consistently 4th in my age group, which seemed perfect. Room to grow, but definitely not in crying pain. The people I met at races were so amazing, so happy to be racing, and so unconcerned with how they looked in their tri suit, or who had the nicest bike. Well, some people were worried about the bike, but I learned quickly that as soon as that segment starts, it's the motor, not the chassis, that counts the most. I was there to finish, and I did, every time. I built up a good base, and finished the season with that Olympic, again 4th in my age group. Those 30+ ladies were definitely kicking butt, though, and made me want to keep pushing.

I had to take a second job at Borders to pay off some of the equipment! But I kept going to the gym on my evening "lunch" breaks, and early mornings. As the Christmas rush approached, the time grew less and less, and I worried I'd never have the motivation to do another season of tri. I was working 80 hours a week, and living on Healthy Choice dinners. I asked some friends from the team for a goal race. Since several of them were doing the Musselman in July, I figured I might as well take it up a notch, and kick my butt into gear. I thought I might hurl the night I actually signed up. I'd never run 13.1 miles. Ever.

We were spinning during snowstorms on January Sunday mornings. We were swimming regularly on Wednesday nights. I got PI bike tights and lobster gloves for Christmas, and as soon as there wasn't too much sand on the roads, I was out on my bike, or running. I think my base was very solid by March. I went on vacation to England, and ran through Hyde Park. Too flat, I thought.

I got a new job in May, and spent June sleeping on a friend's couch while apartment-hunting. This was totally cool, because she lived literally 500 feet from miles upon miles of bike paths throughout Northern VA and DC. I remember being upset one morning, because her loud neighbors kept me up, and it wasn't yet light enough to give up and go for a bike ride! Why wasn't the sun out at 4 am?! (Maybe I was more upset with the whole no-sleep thing). I found out where at least one path ended, and realized I missed riding on real roads. Rolling Hills! I remember those!

June 26th the Musselman organizers ran a "Bike the Whole Enchilada" program, to do a practice run of the bike segment. I met up with my friends from back home on Saturday morning in Syracuse. We lunched, changed, and headed out to Geneva (about an hour west) to do the run course. When we left Syracuse, it was a sultry 95 degrees. We got briefly lost in Geneva, looked at the Hobart William Smith Campus from several angles, and then found our way down to the waterfront. My friend's car told us it was now 98. We'd delayed the run until the evening just in case, and now it was getting hotter?! With a water bottle each, plus one fuel belt, we set off.

One friend ran X-country in college, and I think she set off at her normal pace. By the end of the waterfront park (a paltry 2 miles!), she had to stop, and sensibly threw the contents of a bottle of water over her head. Glad she was feeling better, we set off through town, with the first uphill. The first of many. At mile 6, we'd used all except one fuel belt bottle of our water. We now stopped every 20 minutes (preferably, in the shade) to get our heartrates down/avoid dire heat exhaustion. I am but one small female, and I think I had sweated vats. According to the run sheet, there was one more hill.

We turned the corner onto a dirt road, and...yeah. Mile 7. All of it. Was a steep climb, over a large-grade shaly gravel, past cornfields, with a delightful late-afternoon sideways cast of the sun. I remember squinting up the grade, making out the silhouettes of my friends, as I determinedly put one foot in front of the other in the saddest shuffle-jog ever. I think I saw several of Van Gogh's crows. I was out of water, and carrying an empty bottle in my sweaty grip. We passed a port-a-potty, and a water tank next to it labelled "NOT for drinking". I think they put it there on purpose.

About a half-mile after the top, we managed to run-walk into a firehouse, crash a Granma's surprise birthday party, and drink straight from the tap in front of an extremely nice yet somewhat bewildered family of four. The rest was pretty much downhill. We got to do that flat two-mile waterfront again, as the course was kind of a squished lollipop, joining up again for the finish.

Since we were still alive, the bike segment the next day was actually enjoyable! The first 15 miles are the sort of gradual uphill that has you thinking you stink at the whole bike segment, until you realize you're on a grade, really using up too much energy, and should shift already. At mile 23 there's the steepest grade, another mile-long uphill, but (!) no gravel . We missed this hill on the training ride, thanks to the 22 mph averagers who plowed on down the wrong turnoff, and the ride leader who decided we might as well not go back (for whatever reason). The one guy who was so far ahead he HAD ridden the hill talked it up like it was Mt. Misery, saying he'd had to go into his granny gear. I mentally noted to save it for that hill on race day. The course passes by the shores of Lakes Seneca and Cayuga, through miles upon miles of cornfields and vineyards (Finger Lakes Wineries are BIG), and past horsenbuggy signs denoting the presence of the Amish. We didn't find any horses and buggies, rather black vans filled with waving children coming from church towards about mile 40. It was beautiful out there.

After the ride, I won a tube of athlete's cure cream stuff for having driven the farthest to the practice ride (7 hours). I drove the farthest home, too, because I got lost and ended in Baltimore. D'oh!

I had found an apt., and my boyfriend came down to help me move and clean and stuff over the July 4th weekend. We bought a bunch of stuff off Craigslist, and I was pleased to have things pretty much in order, and went for a run on Independence Day. I was so psyched to be living right near Rock Creek Park here in DC, and to have off-road trails to run on, and bounded happily into the woods, and over some roots...and came down pretty hard on the wrong part of my foot.

The next day, 6 hours in a hospital had me with a sprained ankle, crutches, and 2 weeks until the race. I discovered someone had tried to break into my car, and busted the locks. It was definitely time to taper!!! I took a week off from training to deal with work, taking the car in, getting a rental, fetching more CL furniture, and renting a budget truck to take back home and get the rest of my stuff. I gave up on crutches, they got in the way. I kept icing the ankle every night. While I was home, I went on my first OWS of the season, having finally!!! fixed the hole I'd poked in my wetsuit the year before.

It was an awesome swim. We did race distance, and though the water felt like sub-zero, the current was minor, and it was great to get out in Long Island Sound. It's odd that post-high school, I'm like some kind of swimming paeon amongst my tri friends. I'm really not "fast", and oodles of college swimmers on this board would bear that out. think it's just that I learned good form, and grew up swimming in nasty dark uncertain water, so just don't care. I love swimming, and to be in the water again was great. OK, I do swim really wide of the seaweed goo on the bouy chains, and try to avoid looking at it.

I didn't train again after that pre-race Sunday. I heard a bunch of stuff from people about how they'd "tested" their ankle, and made it worse, so I just stayed away. I got a new tri suit with bright pink ("make me fast") stripes that Friday, in a last-minute panic about being unprepared. I cleaned my bike in a mad rush, packed race, casual, and dinner-after clothes, and drove the 7 hours in a mad hurry on Saturday morning.

(the real race report)

Musselman ran an "Athlete's village" this year, which consisted of Hobart William Smith College dorms for $25 a night. I signed up for that early, and it sold out, so lucky me. They HAD billed this as being a "5 minute walk" from everything, which was a lie. It was still super cheap, and a 5 minute drive from the transition area and downtown, with free parking, and walking distance to packet pickup/pasta dinner, etc. Fair enough. I haven't slept on a plastic mattress in a few years, it had nostalgic value...?

The pre-race meetings were held in an auditorium without AC. Jeff Henderson was very funny, the refs were really down-to-earth, and I began to repeat in my head "do not draft do not draft do not draft". Pasta dinner was fine, and they featured local wines, in cute tasting doses. Perfect for racers!

It started to rain that evening, after I'd walked my bike down to the racking area. The next morning, tons of racers found their transition setup would have to be worked around the large vertical puddles under most of the racks. Luckily, I was just to the side of one, and ripped up some plastic bags to put under my towel to keep it dry. I hadn't seen the need to cover up my bike seat or whatnot...I get on it wet, anyway, so...

It stopped sprinkling sometime around 6, and I managed to borrow some Pam and get all suited up in time for the 3rd wave. With an in-water start, racers had to corral, climb over a low wall bordering the shore, clamber over some rocks, and wade out to the line. The race's namesake, the Zebra mussel, said hello through the mud with little pokes. One friend wore aqua shoes.

Oh man, was the water choppy. I thought I was majorly off-course tons of times, but it could have been I was majorly out of the pack, and on course. Sighting the buoys was pretty tough half the time thanks to obscuring waves. I wasn't too tired, and just kept swimming like Nemo and Dora. The finish involves wading through spikier mussels, and some submerged rocks, ow! I was done swimming at 42 minutes, and my time involved three more minutes of minced wading (swam as far as I could, it was shallow!), then the run up the beach.

T1 was great with this one-piece suit. Hair and helmet first, food in pockets, then sit down, carefully yank the wetsuit legs off (I swear it's too small), shoes, and go! Thanks to a bottle exhange early on, I got a better selection of drinkage, and the day was starting to heat up. I got passed a lot, it happens. I waved at runner friend as she sailed past, and saved it for the hill. Save save. Lake Cayuga is really pretty.

That hill we missed on the practice ride that the guy said was so hard he'd had to go granny gear? I've seen my granny go up bigger hills sitting down. In fact, I went up it without standing. Must have been all that saving. Neat-o.

After that, the course hits the big-time. I was coasting at 25, and hammering at 30. I was excited to catch some people who'd passed me before the hill, but they were loving the downhill too. I knew I had to save it for the run, as well. By mile 46 or so I was definitely ready to be off the bike, but kept feeding myself gel and thinking calmly. The Amish people had been outside the church, just watching the race go by. It rained briefly as we came onto the home stretch, and we all nudged pretty carefully into transition.

T2 was more leisurely. I had finished the bike with a 16.8 average, which for me is rockin'. I wasn't exhausted, my ankle felt ok, and I just wanted to make sure I was hydrated. I threw my running shoes on, and saw my boyfriend on the way out, handing out water in his nice new soaking-wet blue volunteer shirt.

There were bands on the run course. At mile 1.5, this was manifested in the form of a guy with a keyboard, microphone, and backing track, singing what I think were lounge tunes. I thanked him.

Here's where the big stupid comes in: Having done fine without socks on the bike, and not wanting to end up with wet socks due to the rain, I'd gone without socks in T2. I was running barefoot in my sneaks. I was feeling ok on my pace, and really prepared about the heat (thanks to our run of death in June). But around mile 4, reality set in.

I really thought I was being all hard-core triathletey, and saving time in transition, or something. But no. I was simply in pain, and being stupid as all heck. No socks?! 13.1 miles?!

I asked at three aid stations for bandaids, and they had none. No socks?! gah!!!

At mile 6 someone found some in their purse. That volunteer rocked. I made it up the hill. I sat down to fix the bandaids again (stupid sweaty feet). My other friend came upon me, for some reason he was behind me? He told me he'd been walking, he was having an awful race. I realized one of the new bandaids was actually a breathe-right strip. I knew it was all downhill from there, and was thinking "one more hour. you can run an hour. you can run 2 hours. you've done it. you've ridden your bike for four hours. what's one more hour?" and rationed out the next 6 miles in my head, one mile at a time.

But he had told me he'd been walking. I'd been doing awesome up until then if he was behind me. I was averaging good 9.20 minute miles, I knew it. But something about that made me think "well, I'll walk through the aid stations". That turned into walking farther. My run turned into a death march of blistery run-walking after about mile 8. It was teh lame.

The aid stations had sponges soaked in ice water, too. I managed to wipe off all my sunblock, and realized it around mile 11. I smell burning...oh wait, it's me. Everyone on the course by then was trying to kick each other into gear. "Doing great!" "Almost done!" It helped, but that 2-mile waterfront stretch, despite its welcoming breezes, was probably not the most conscious few minutes of my life.

As always, though, you have to smile for the cameras, so I bucked up, sprinted the last 1/2 mile, happily greeted my parents, and sat down and ripped my shoes off. I think I learned my lesson.

The friend who'd been behind me until the run actually got seasick due to the chop on the swim...and proceeded to be sick several times during the bike as well. I think he gets mad props for even continuing...the swim took him an hour, breaststroke!

The runner girl got 4th in our agegroup (I moved up one this year), she rocks!

And I....well, here ya go! I'm doing another 1/2 IM this year, with socks, or else.

361st overall
18th in agegroup (F25-29)
45:01 swim
2:24 T1
3:20:10 bike
3:55 T2
2:46:51 run (12.44 minute miles, ouch!)

DC_Emily

Holy crap! I'm tired just reading that! Sounds like you did great, Harriet!
Congrats!

H2OChick

Wow - I could really feel your pain during that blister description. How awful!!! But the rest of it sounds good and I bet you're really glad you did it! Congratulations!

cycleprincess

OMG...and I thought I was a freaking athlete-diva-extraordinaire for doing a sprint tri!!! Way to go! I cried through a 5k...can't imagine 13+! You go girl.

sweetharriet

shucky durn thanks guys... please read this as a cautionary tale: no falling over or not wearing socks, learn from my mistakes!

it was still fun, how insane is that?

H2OChick

plenty insane, but I think many folks here "get it."

TriBob

Great job on getting it done.

One Q, what is a vertical puddle?

sweetharriet

welll...the transition area is usually a long rectangle, with bikes racked in rows perpendicular to the long sides...and these puddles ran parallel to the longer sides of the TA, under several rows at once. i think of that as vertically, but i s'pose i could also mean "long puddles running under several bike racks at once"

make sense?