I mean it this time.

Two years ago, I wrote that I was done with Danskin. I meant it, I did, but then Michelle, Barb, KC, and Fish decided to give this year's race a shot, and I'd heard rumors of better organization and logistics. There were, indeed, some improvements over the 2004 race, but overall, I had a pretty rough day. Here's my race report:

Saturday pre-race

Michelle, Fish, KC, and I left Boulder much too early so that we could attend the Survivors’ Breakfast at the packet pick-up site (Michelle, Fish, and Barb are all breast cancer survivors). I was very glad we went to that, though, because it was truly moving and inspiring to hear all of the survivors’ stories and to see how much the race means to them. Also, being at the breakfast meant that we got to get our race stuff and check out the expo before the crowds arrived, which was awesome - no lines!

I bought a new tri outfit from Danskin (the same one that about 50% of the other racers bought, but it’s cute and comfortable and supportive, so whatever), snagged race belts for KC and for the friends I'm racing with in Boston in two weeks (continuing my longstanding tradition of buying race belts for my friends before their first triathlon), attended the pre-race talk, and then headed back to Boulder.

It was too hot in my house to do anything productive, and even hotter outside. Even with the swamp cooler on full-blast, the only bearable place to be was in the garden level TV room, so I sprawled on the couch, watched stupid TV, drank tons of water, and dozed. My stomach was giving me a lot of trouble, and had been for a couple of days, so I was feeling pretty lousy. Fortunately, Fish's house was just as hot, so she showed up a little earlier than planned for the return trip down South. We got totally lost driving around Suburban Hell, finally found our hotel, and then ended up eating dinner at a Bennigans because it was the closet place that seemed marginally appetizing. Yuck. But my stomach was still oogly and I couldn't eat much, so it didn’t really matter. We went to sleep early, and I slept fitfully until the alarm went off at 4:30. a.m.

Sunday - race day

Fish and I got up and out quickly, had only minor navigation issues, and reached the race site at 5:30. The parking lot was already pretty full, and it took us a while to get into the lot and parked. We then had over a mile to go from the lot to the race site, but were able to ride our bikes for most of the way - not a bad warm-up. It was already close to 80 degrees out when we reached the transition area around 6:00.

I hadn’t been able to eat anything when I woke up, so I’d brought some bread and peanut butter with me. After I finished setting up my transition area, I took a bite of food and totally gagged on it Then I realized that I had to go to the bathroom, and barely made it over to the porta-potties in time for the runs to hit me. (Sorry, TMI)

I decided not to try eating anything else at that point, and just concentrated on drinking as much energy drink and water as I could, to avoid getting dehydrated. I found my friends and gave the survivors a good send-off, since they were starting in the first non-elite wave. When I went back to my spot, I got scared that I wouldn’t be able to finish if I didn’t eat SOMETHING. I didn’t have any energy gel with me because I never bother with it for short races, but I did have a Powerbar. I took a few bites of that, and thought I was OK, but shortly thereafter I had to puke it up. Followed by another round in the porta-potty. Needless to say, I was contemplating dropping out of the race at that point. But after the last bout of sickness, I felt like everything was out of me and I could make it through the race as long as I hydrated adequately.

The Swim

I almost didn’t wear my wetsuit because it was so hot outside, but ended up being glad I did, because the water was only about 68 degrees. The water felt so good, and it was nice and clear (Aurora Reservoir has the nicest water in the area for racing). I was really feeling solid on the swim, aside from a little residual queasiness. I couldn’t see the buoys (still the same stupid blue buoys they used in 2004), but I could follow people’s heads and arms all around me, so I was able to swim pretty consistently.

Coming into the home stretch, there was a bit of glare, but I could see the arches at the finish and could still see some people around me. Then a kayak cut me off, which really freaked me out, and I got confused. In retrospect, I realize that the kayaker was trying to redirect me a bit to the right (it was a counter-clockwise triangular course). I kept swimming, and kept sighting on the white arches at the end. I was getting closer and closer, and then a swim angel bumped me, and I really got disoriented. I looked up and realized that I was, indeed, right near the finish, but had veered just far enough to the left that I was IN THE PATH OF THE ONCOMING SWIMMERS, and a wave had just started. The start and finish were right next to each other, on the same boat ramp, not even a few feet apart from one another, so by sighting on the arches without paying attention to the starting swimmers, I’d ended up smack-dab in the way of the starting waves.

This was the most terrifying moment I’ve experienced in ten years of triathlons. I dodged and ducked and managed to get out of the way of the crowd, but I’m sure I screwed up some people’s swims, and I scared the living crap out of myself. I was nearly sobbing when I finally got out of the water. I also realized that I had been swimming a personal-best time until the mishap, and it bummed me out to have blown that and ended up instead with a slow-average swim time.

As I was exiting the water, a volunteer tried to unzip my wetsuit for me. I couldn’t hear him, didn’t see him until he was on top of me, and was so upset by the swim incident, and so he freaked me out big-time. I screamed at him to get away from me. I’m sure all the racers and spectators standing there thought I was crazy.

T1

There was a LONG way to go from the swim to the bike, but the traffic patterns were pretty good and my transition was without incident. I decided not to put my CI processor on, remembering what happened to it at my last race, so I just popped in my left-ear hearing aid and sped off. My transition-area spot was really well-located for the bike and run, which was a small blessing.

Bike

The bike course was tougher than I had remembered, very rolling without any real flat areas. It was too crowded for me to go particularly fast on the flats and downhills, and my lack of calories left me without much power on the uphills. Still, I was able to clear my head and drink a lot of water, and I mostly enjoyed the bike ride. Someone nearly killed me (and several others) by passing very close on the inside of a very tight, crowded turn, but in general people were riding courteously.

T2

This transition is usually my speediest, but this time, it didn't go as fast as I’d have liked. I got distracted by trying to move my CI processor into a safer place, and wasted a couple of moments deciding whether or not to carry a water bottle with me. But it was otherwise uneventful, other than some confusion about which direction to enter the run-start gates. I did end up taking a bottle, dumped most of it over my clothing at the beginning, and abandoned it about a half-mile into the run because it sucked to carry it.

Run

The run was SO DAMN HOT and very, very crowded. The run course is along a sidewalk-width bike path, with runners going in both directions, and it really is too narrow for a Danskin-size crowd. Particularly when the majority of racers are walking, and walking two, three, or four abreast.

I ran the whole thing, but so slowly that it hardly qualified as "running." I also got stuck behind crowds several times. The first water station wasn’t until the halfway point, which was much too far out, given the record heat (over 100 by then). The second water station was ½ mile later, which meant that we had two long waterless stretches, punctuated by two close-together water stations in the middle. Also, there was only water on the run, and at that point I desperately needed some energy drink.

Somehow, I finished. None of my friends were waiting for me at the finish line, which was pretty disappointing. I found Michelle and Fish at the Team Survivor tent, and then I collapsed on the ground, sobbing - I guess I’d been holding in all my freak-outedness from the swim thing through the rest of the race, plus I was completely depleted, having done the whole race with nothing but liquid in my system.

Michelle got me a fruit smoothie from the survivor tent, which was heavenly and really saved me at that point. We went back to see KC and Deidre finish, and then we started the long, hot trek back to the cars.

Overall, not so fun. I was very happy that my friends had a great time, especially because it was the first tri for most of them, and a first race should always be a positive experience. But I just wasn’t able to get into it. I realized that I hate the Aurora Reservoir site, at least for a large race, because it’s SO far out in the boonies and requires so much schlepping and waiting around, and its only bike- and run-course options are unavoidably very congested. For whatever reason, I also wasn’t feeling any of the camaraderie and spirit that can make a Danskin race so inspiring and exciting, and between the puking and the diarrhea, I just felt AWFUL.

On Friday, I told Steve that I was thinking about skipping the race, and in retrospect I really should have. I was pretty depressed all afternoon and evening yesterday, feeling depleted by and disappointed in my race, and I’m still feeling sort of sad today.

In two weeks, I'm doing the New England Danskin with a whole posse of friends, mostly first-timers. I'm very excited about this race. I've heard pretty good things about the course, and I'm looking forward to racing in a brand-new venue. I'm also really, really hoping to regain some of my enthusiasm for the sport and my sense of accomplishment from racing. Right now, I just feel slow and mediocre and crappy.

But I'm never, never doing the Denver Danskin again, at least not at the A-Res location. I really do mean it this time.

Comments

[fish]

yes, but keep in mind you had the best time in this race of all of us!!! you did a great job getting through this, especially given the obstacles you faced - queasy stomach, scary swim... i have no such excuses!!! i'm just slow!!!

[div]

I'm sorry you had a crappy time, but the race (in less than two weeks! ack!) will be a BLAST and I'm beyond excited you're coming out for it!