- It was an early morning... a VERY early morning! I had to be at the transition area by 4:15am.
- My wave (the almost-old-fogey division) was at 9:15am
- Water temp was 63 degrees, but it wasn't too bad with my wetsuit
- Air temp was in the low 50's and warmed to upper 60's by noon (with 10-15 mph winds)
- The swim was my biggest challenge, as I expected. I had a few 'panic' moments, but got through it OK
- The bike rocked... but was very difficult with the head winds
- The run was my best effort, also as I expected
- I finished the race in 2:59:53 - and my goal was 3 hours (yes!)
- Crossing the finish line was an amazing mixture of pride, elation, and exhaustion
For those of you who want to know every gory detail, keep reading...
Transition Area: As I mentioned, we had to be down to the transition area at 4:15am. The transition area serves as the main hub of the race - where you switch gear from swim to bike, then bike to run. They opened the transition area at 4:15am and closed it at 5:45am. During this time, athletes need to find their assigned bike racks, set up their gear, and do a 'practice run' to and from their location to make sure they know how to find it later in the midst of 'race chaos'. With literally thousands of triathletes, it is an overwhelming area and I made sure to do my practice run a couple of times.
I lucked out to a degree, because my bike rack was directly off the main path through the transition area. I was glad that I wouldn't have to deal with finding my rack in the middle of the grassy hill where there were rows and rows of racks that went on seemingly forever. When race time came, I had no trouble finding my post.
The other thing I had to really think through was what gear I needed and where. Once they close the transition area at 5:45am, you CANNOT go back in until you return from the swim. This means you need to make sure you have all your swim gear (wetsuit, goggles, swimcap, de-fogger spray, etc) with you - or you will be in trouble at race start. It also means you have to figure out what you are going to wear (including shoes) while you wait for the race. This may not seem like a big deal, but it adds some complication since you don't really have an opportunity to retrieve any pre-race items until after the race is completed. They did have a desk where you could check personal items at the start of the swim, but I chose to bring a duffle bag instead and leave it with David so I wouldn't have to deal with the lines after the race.
Once I was done double and triple-checking my set-up in transition, I left the transition area for the 4 hours of waiting ahead of me. During that time I went back to the hotel and had a bagel with cream cheese, and then came back to the race area to watch some of the waves ahead of me. I fretted about the swim with each and every wave I watched. It looked like absolute chaos and there were definitely a lot of people in each wave who were in full-blown panic mode. I didn't see anybody actually forfeit the race, but I believe some had to have done so. I can't imagine how some of them could possibly have made it through the full mile in the state of panic they were in. I vowed not to be one of those people!
The Swim: About 20 minutes before my swim time, I headed to the race start area. They grouped us in our waves (identified by different colored swim caps for each wave - mine was hot pink), and we shuffled our way closer to the starting point as waves were launched in four minute increments. When it was time for my wave, we were instructed to jump in the water. We tread water for about (30 seconds? a minute?) until it was time for our wave to start. When they started doing the 10 second count-down, I started the timer on my watch - just so I could have a good reference during the race.
When the horn sounded, chaos ensued. I purposely positioned myself toward the back of the pack in the corral area, and waited about 5 seconds or so after the horn sounded before I started swimming. This allowed all the experienced and fast swimmers to take off ahead of me and minimized some of the punishment I received.
The start was about as chaotic as I expected. There was a lot of thrashing, and it took a good 10 to 20 meters before I could carve out my own space in the crowd. I could tell immediately that my stroke was faster than I wanted, and my breathing was too rapid. I slowed down a little, and made sure to take deep breaths with each stroke. That helped, but I did have to stop a few times when I inhaled water, or ran smack-dab into a stalled (panicked) swimmer, or just got out of my rhythm. At one point in the first quarter mile, I actually swam over to the side of the course and held on to the rope for a few seconds, just to regain my composure.
After my brief respite, I established a pretty good rhythm until I got to the turnaround point (.25 miles into the swim). This was a large buoy that we all had to swim around. As I started to make my turn, I realized quickly that the width of the swimming lane narrowed dramatically as everyone tried to turn very closely to the buoy itself. It was here that I endured the worst of my pummelling. Masses of bodies clamored over me during this small stretch of water, and I literally lost all swimming form at this point. I just did whatever I could (kind of a quasi freestyle / breast stroke / doggy paddle) to get around that buoy.
As quickly as possible after making it through the bend, I bee-lined to the course markers, and held onto the rope again to regain my composure. This time I held on for a while longer than I had before. I also used this as an opportunity to check my time. I knew this was the quarter mark on my swim, and was pleased when I saw that only 8 minutes had gone by. Since my goal for this portion of the race was 30 minutes, it dawned on me that I was miraculously on target!
From that point forward, I focused entirely on my swim stroke and repeated to myself ... "just keep swimming". There were many points throughout the remainder of the swim course where I inhaled water, got hit by others (or vice versa), or simply lost my form - and each time I just stopped for a few seconds, took a few breaths, and resumed swimming.
As I neared the final exit point, I started to become more aware of my surroundings. I watched out for pink caps - and was disappointed to see that they were few and far between. I saw lots of white caps, green caps, and yellow caps, but only a smattering of pink caps. I knew I was either way out ahead of my wave, or way behind. I suspected the latter was the case.
When I could see that I was at the final 25 meters or so, I really turned on the burners. I figured it was safe to expend all my energy at this point because I knew I would be able to recover during transition, and I was close enough to know I wouldn't peter out before reaching the finish. When I reached the steps, and the helpers aided me out of the water, my legs were jello and I felt completely spent. I looked at my watch. 32 minutes. I couldn't believe it. I was only 2 minutes over my target time. I was sure I had absolutely blown it. This pleasant surprise - along with my first glimpse of David, who was cheering me on at the swim exit - gave me a renewed spirit. I was ready to charge forward to the bike!
One oddity about the Chicago course is that there is a 450 yard distance between the swim exit and the transition area. During this portion of the course, you have to run barefoot on a variety of surfaces including concrete, asphalt, grass, and mud - all while trying to strip off your wetsuit along the way. While this is somewhat common in most courses, the odd part is that the run counts towards your swim time. So, my swim didn't officially end until I reached transition - at the 36 minute mark. This was a little longer than I had hoped (ultimately), but I figured I could make it up with a quick transition time.
The Bike: By the time I reached my bike, I was absolutely jazzed. Not only had I completed the swim (which was just as awful of an experience as I had feared), but I did it in a reasonable time. At this point, I figured my 3 hour mark was actually achievable if I simply relied on my training for the bike and run portions. No more stressing about it... JUST DO IT.
So I sped through my transition, and was on my way to the bike course in mere minutes. By this time, my legs were strong again and I was ready to ride. As soon as I crossed the chip mat (where they officially end your transition time and start your bike), I positioned my pedal to clip in my shoe - only to have the chain completely fall off. Crap! I moved my bike to the side, and tried not once, not twice, but three times before I was successful in fixing the chain.
Once the bike was functional, I was on it in no time - pedaling furiously up the ramp to Lake Shore Drive where I was about to embark on a 25 mile journey. It was at this point I realized that the heart rate monitor I strapped on during my transition was not working at all (unless I was dead and didn't realize it), and the cadence monitor on the bike also was not working.
The cadence monitor was a big concern because this is the main measurement I relied on for pacing myself on the bike throughout my training. The speedometer worked (fortunately), but I rarely use that as a guide since it can vary so dramatically depending on wind, ascent / descent, etc. The cadence is the one constant I rely on. Oh well... the good news was that I had ridden enough this summer to have a pretty good feel for the appropriate cadence. Again, I needed to rely on my training and just do it.
Heading up the ramp, it was clear that the quality of my bike, and the strength in my legs was going to be a good advantage for me. While others were huffing and puffing up the hill, I blew past them. It felt good! As I hit my stride at the top of Lake Shore Drive, I also realized that the wind was going to be my biggest challenge. The course consisted of two loops on a stretch of Lake Shore - first heading north, then south again, then north, then south for the final stretch. The wind was a constant 10-15mph blowing due South. So for each north-bound portion of the race, it was directly into the wind.
In spite of the wind, the sun was out, the weather was cool, and I felt strong. I knew I had to maintain an average of 20mph to achieve a 75 minute bike time, but was hoping to average 25 mph to make a 60 minute bike time. As I fought against the wind on the first north-bound stretch, and saw my speed ranging anywhere from 17mph to 21 mph, I started to become concerned that I would even reach the 20 mph average mark. However, I was also encouraged by the fact that I continued to blow past people in droves. I was definitely in the designated passing lane for the vast majority of the bike race.
After seemingly forever battling the wind, I finally reached the first turnaround point and was immediately gratified with the wind pushing me from behind. In no time, I was hitting the 29 mph mark, and was able to sustain 25 - 30 mph for most of the southbound stretch. Again, I passed people in droves. But I also noticed that some others were passing me as well. It wasn't often, but there were small pockets of extremely fit people passing me on extremely expensive bikes. Either the professional wave had begun, or there were some waves after me that included many of the elite athletes. Whoever they were, I was in awe of them.
Round two of the northbound stretch was much more difficult than the first. I don't know if I was becoming more tired, or if the wind was stronger, or both, but it was definitely more of a challenge. My speeds were hovering closer to the 17 mph mark than 20 mph, and at times I dropped below 15 mph. More groups of elite athletes continued to pass me, and the I passed fewer people than I had on my first round. I was still passing far more people than passed me, but the ratio was definitely changing. I also noticed a couple points along the way where there were stranded bikers - looking dazed and disappointed with ripped shirts revealing bloodied arms covered in road rash. It reminded me that I needed to stay sharp throughout the race, because it would be too easy to hit a bump or run into another biker and end up injured or worse.
By the time I reached the final turnaround, I was really worn out. It felt like I had battled the wind for an eternity, and I absolutely could not wait until I had it at my back. Once again, after I made the turn I was treated with a boost from mother nature. From this point on, I stayed pretty much within the 22 to 25 mph zone rather than the 25 to 30 mph I enjoyed previously. But it was still gratifying, and my overall time was looking pretty good.
When it was all said and done, I finished the bike portion in 1:19 at an average of 19.1 mph. It was a little slower than I had hoped, but I felt good considering the initial delay with the chain and the constant wind. As I wrapped up the biking portion, I felt really good about my performance regardless of my final time. I felt like I still had enough energy for a good run, but couldn't count on it until I crossed the finish line.
At the end of the bike portion, I was glad to see David once again, along with my brother and 2 of his children cheering me on. This gave me the additional boost I needed as I headed into the final leg of the race.
The Run: Once again, I had a fast transition. I found my way to the bike rack very quickly, and was out of my biking shoes, helmet, etc, and into my running shoes. I was a little concerned about the fact that my heart monitor wasn't working, and tried to 're-boot' it again with no luck. On the bike I rely on the cadence monitor for my pace, on the run I rely on my heart rate. It is the only reference I have to make sure I don't burn out too quickly or under-perform along the way. Again, given all the training I did this summer, I simply had to rely on my experience to tell me if I was pushing too hard or not enough.
There isn't much to tell about the run except that I approached it just like any other run. I found a good pace and stuck with it the whole way. I didn't let the mile markers psyche me out (sometimes it seemed like I should be way further than I was), and I didn't worry about what anybody else was doing. I just ran my race.
I was glad to find early on that I was passing people at the same rate I did on the bike. My pace was much stronger than most on the course, and it boosted my confidence because I didn't feel too out of breath. When people passed me, it was clear (again) that these were elite athletes and I didn't let it discourage me. After passing the half way point, I knew I started to pay more attention to my time, and realized that 3 hours was still in my reach. If I continued on the same pace I was (which I assessed by the mile markers), I should hit the finish line right around my goal time.
Throughout the running course, I took advantage of the water and Gatorade stations. But I have to admit that toward the last mile or two, I stopped drinking. As I passed one of the stations and a volunteer urged me to keep hydrating, I looked at her and said "one more sip and I'll pee my pants!'. She got a good laugh out of that. I wasn't kidding!
I hit the 6 mile marker and knew that I was getting close. I could hear the cheering of crowds as I approached the final bend, and had a couple people tell me that I only had a quarter mile to go and keep on running. As I looked at my watch, I had only minutes left before the 3 hour mark. I knew if I picked up my pace for this very last stretch, I would be assured of beating my goal. So I booked it with what little energy I had left.
As I neared the finish line, I saw David jump up from where he had been sitting, and he cheered me on and snapped a picture. My brother scrambled to his feet as well, and almost missed me entirely! When I crossed the finish line, I felt a rush of pride as they announced my name. They immediately donned me with an official City of Chicago triathlon medal, which was a very pleasant surprise.
After catching my breath, I found David and Brad (and kids), and was greeted with congratulatory hugs and high fives. Brad admitted to me that I caught him off guard because I finished the run on the earliest time he thought was possible for me. I ended up completing the 10k run in 52 minutes. Not bad even if I do say so myself!
Along the Way: All in all, I think the race went rather smoothly. And if I do it again, I have a much better idea of what I need to watch out for. Here is a list of the little things that made the logistics a little more complicated than they needed to be...
- Ripped my duffle bag before I got to transition area in the morning.
- Dislodged the inner-lining of my helmet as I positioned it on my handle bars during my transition set-up. This caused issues later when I headed out for the bike and it wouldn't fit properly on my head.
- Ripped a hole in my wetsuit as I pulled on the sleeve just prior to race start.
- Fogged up my goggles because I used the de-fogger the night before (rather than morning of the race) thinking it would save me time. Apparently that was a bad idea.
- Couldn't get heart rate monitor to work properly - even though it worked fine before and after (should have done a few more practice runs where I put on the monitor mid-stream during a timed session)
- Couldn't get the cadence monitor to work on the bike - shouldn't have had the 'pre-race' tune up done by a shop that doesn't specialize in high end bikes (I'm sure they broke it since it worked fine on the last ride before it went to the shop)
- Chain fell off bike - again, should have done my homework on the bike shop who did my 'pre-race' tune up
- Popped off the snap from my race belt as I put it on prior to the run. The belt holds my race number so it displays prominently in front of me during the run. I bought it the day before so I wouldn't have to safety pin it. I essentially had to fold one corner over the corner of the belt, and keep re-folding it throughout the race. The only real impact is that several of the official race pictures of me are probably in the 'unidentified racer' section of the website because they couldn't read my number. (funny thing is I found the snap when I went back to get my things out of the transition area)
- Ripped my wetsuit bag carrying around the extra shoes, etc, I wore in the morning between setting up transition area and starting my swim.
Obviously these weren't big deals, but it highlights the fact that triathlons are not just about the training and endurance, but about the planning and preparation. There are some things you just can't learn until you've experienced it.
Anyway, for those of you who have actually read all the way to the bottom of this blog, I thank you. This is probably more detail than anyone would ever want to know, but I thought it would be fun to document it while it is still fresh on my mind. I'll certainly read this again if I ever decide to do another one.
And no... I haven't made any decisions yet. The jury is still out and I'm OK with that. It was a great experience, and I may or may not do it again. I can say with certainty that another endurance race of some sort is in my future. Whether it is a triathlon, or marathon, or some other -thon, I don't know. But I liked having a challenging goal and it motivated me to stay on a training program.
For those of you interested in seeing all the final stats, click on the following link: http://www.chicagotriathlon.com/ and navigate to the 'results' section. Click on the Timberline logo and you can pull up times by a number of different serach criteria.
Thanks again to all my friends, family, and colleagues who supported and encouraged me along the way. I couldn't have done it without you!
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