Pleasant Prairie is a great local triathlon that attracts a lot of speedy triathletes in the Illinois and Wisconsin region. I did the Sprint distance at this race a couple years ago when I was just coming back from my knee surgery. I was fat and slow (want proof? I found pictures last week and contemplated posting them here as a sort of "wow, look how far I've come" self-congratulatory sort of thing, but then I realized the pictures are way too embarrassing), but I loved the race, and knew I'd be back someday, in better form all around.
My primary goal for this race, particularly after my little debacle at the Naperville Esprit de She a couple weeks ago, was to finish happy and proud of my effort. I know that sounds cheesy, but really, I just wanted to get back on the horse again, shake off the demons, get through the swim unscathed, bike hard, run hard, and put myself back on a positive course for the rest of the season. Sure, ideally I'd be proud of the effort, happy, and fast, but I figured the fast part would follow the other, less tangible process goals.
Pleasant Prairie's only about an hour from home, but race morning wake-up calls are already really, really rough for me (hey, I just spent 10 months not working....would you get up super early in the morning if you had all day to do your workouts?), so I opted to drive up on Saturday and get myself a cheap little hotel room a couple minutes from the course. Good choice. On race morning, 4 AM in a hotel room a couple miles from the race was rough. 3AM with an hour drive ahead might have made me cry, and the tears are supposed to come after the race, not before. (Just kidding, this has been a tear-free zone starting the day after the Naperville race.)
Spoiler alert, or Clif's Notes version, or whatever you want to call it...the race went just fine. The swimming was fine, the cycling was below average but still fine, the run was pretty good. I saw friends, one of whom meow'd at me during the race just at a time when I was struggling enough that it didn't phase me one bit, I placed exactly where I wanted to, and I walked away with some cold hard cash. And most importantly, a smile. Winning all around.
|Post race smiles/ goofy faces with Nic, who meow'd at me during the run, claiming it was an "Eye of the Tiger" kind of thing.|
After last race's panic attack --> quit --> unquit disaster, the confidence I have always had in the swim was a little lacking. After Naperville, I'd proven to myself that I still knew how to swim when four days after the race, I had probably the best swim practice of my life that concluded with a 1000 IM. That's not a typo. Crazy Coach Liz (just kidding, she's not crazy, except when it comes to her very bizarre love of butterfly, which is without a doubt, crazy) came up with that gem as a challenge after a practice that had already been pretty darn difficult. Despite the fact that since age 16, and possibly even before that, I have not done more than 4 lengths of the pool butterfly at any one time, I somehow managed to rise to the challenge and (slowly and ugly-ly) got through 10 lengths of butterfly, staying legal the whole time. So I knew, physically, I could still swim.
|This was how happy I felt about that 1000 IM malarkey|
This particular start was a little more nerve-wracking, too, because this year Pleasant Prairie added a co-ed Elite wave. That's a welcome addition to any tri, but it meant starting the swim in the midst of a bunch of fast, hard-charging dudes who always seem to play rougher than we civilized lady swimmers. Plus, Pleasant Prairie has this very odd (and in my view, totally dumb) first 100 meters, where everyone starts on a tiny little beach, and then we make a 90 degree turn probably no more than 15 yards after the start. Take a pack of aggressive, fast-starting swimmers, put them all together, and force them to change directions within the first 20 seconds of the race, and that's a recipe for disaster.
The plus side: I knew it would be bad, so I spent the minutes pre-race just calming myself down, reminding myself to expect the worst, to prepare to be punched and grabbed and dunked, coming up with positive self-talk and mantras.
And yes, I was punched and grabbed and dunked and punched some more. I started a bit behind the front line and purposely held back a little in the first 200 meters so as to stay a little calmer, but I still got the snot beat out of me. But I was ready for it, got through, and when clear water opened up, I was fine.
My swim wasn't amazing, but it was fine. I wasn't looking for amazing, I wasn't willing on this day to take anything even remotely resembling a risk, I wasn't willing to redline, I just wanted to get out without incident, and I did. I think I was the 4th woman out of the water, with some super fish ahead of me, and that was just fine and dandy. Demon, exorcised. Now back to business as usual.
In an effort to look and act more like a real triathlete, I decided to try starting this race with my shoes already in the pedals. I practiced getting into and out of them several times the day before and thought I was good to go.
Not so much. One shoe flipped down and dragged on the ground, acting like a sort of brake. I could not get started and there may have been a few choice words uttered (quietly). And then, when I was trying to slide my foot into one shoe, I managed to kick the velco strap out of the metal thingamabob that it loopy-de-loops through. I lack the writing skills and vocabulary to explain it better, but basically I could not fasten my shoe unless I reached down to re-thread the velcro strap through the thingamabob, all while moving. My bike handling skills are questionable at best without messing with my shoes, downright scary with shoe shenanigans, and I would not be surprised if I lost a minute or more during the bike coasting and trying to fix my stupid shoe. What a rookie.
There's a mystery right now (well, it's a mystery to me and my coach) and that is....why can Amanda not put together a decent bike in an International distance race? I got on the bike, and immediately, my right hamstring and glute were sore, sore, sore, threatening to cramp, and basically making me very unhappy. This very same thing happened in Terre Haute. It doesn't usually happen in training. The current theory (or at least the theory I like)...I'm kicking too hard in the swim and jacking up my leg in the process. I'm a kicker when it comes to swimming (hey, my best race back in the swimming days was the 50, this is what I was taught!) and I think it's working against me. Any fishes out there who have experienced something similar? Drop me a line, if so, and tell me how you figured out how to NOT kick so much (just saying "don't kick" doesn't work, it's a rhythm thing).
Anyway, my legs were not cooperating on the bike. My power was low, low, low, to the point that I stopped looking altogether because it was just frustrating me to be working really, really hard and only putting out the kind of power that is absolutely no problem at all during training. At one point, I said to my legs, "come on, legs, work with me." They didn't.
I was frustrated with my slowness, and extra frustrated with another woman passed me at mile 18 and I tried to go with her, to take a risk, but I just could not do it. But I didn't let my mental state get too low and instead focused on doing the other stuff right-- hydrating sufficiently, taking in a couple gels, taking salt (actually I failed at that after dropping BOTH of the salt tabs that I'd taped to my bike in the span of 15 seconds).
The bike course itself was nice enough. It's a new course, and from what I can tell, more challenging than before. There were some nasty headwinds to deal with, some false flats, some overpassess disguised as hills, and we rode right by the Jelly Belly factory twice. I'm newly in the midst of a month of no gluten, no sweets, no alcohol, no junk, and I love, love, love jelly beans almost as much as I love Arby's, so that was kind of a mean tease. At least the bike course didn't take us by an Arby's.
|I love jelly beans. I miss jelly beans.|
It was getting really hot out there, and I'd dropped all my salt tabs on the bike, so I did some weighing of consequences in my head and decided that in the interest of not melting on the run, I'd sacrifice my transition. Here's a first. I got to transition, racked my bike, walked over to the backpack I'd brought all my stuff in (stashed a bit away from my transition area), found the bottle of salt tabs in the bag, opened the bottle, and shook out a pill. Which I promptly dropped on the ground as I was running out of transition and accidentally put my visor right over my eyes such that I was running blind for a couple seconds. You better believe I grabbed that salt pill right off the ground. Five second rule!
Continuing within the theme of klutziness and errors, I tried to start my Garmin when the run started, but actually managed to turn it off. I wasn't going to look at it anyway, it's becoming clear that I run better without data, but I would have liked to see my splits afterwards. Oh well.
I got going on the run feeling not too shabby, but I had no idea of my position or whether there was anyone within striking distance. Sharone was standing by the exit and said something to me about "two minutes" but I had no idea if that was to the next person, or the first person, or just a general Sharone-like non-sequiter, so I just ran and tried to turn over my legs.
The run course at Pleasant Prairie basically goes out-and-back-and-out-and-out-on-a-path-and-back-on-same-path-and-around-the-lake. Got it? In other words, lots of places to scope out the competition and assess where you are. There was a turnaround at about 1.5 miles, and as I was approaching, I saw that I was gaining on a girl who I later figured out to be Mary B., a long-time top triathlete in the area whose name I knew from looking at results over the years. I tried to be all strategic-like, tucked in behind her for a little, and then surged so as to "pass with authority."
But maybe surging wasn't such a good idea, because a quarter mile later, I was dead, totally toasted, and wondering if I was going to be able to finish without walking. There's really few more frightening feelings in triathlon than being in trouble at mile 2 of a 10K.
The thing I love about racing is that no matter what happens, there are valuable lessons and experiences to be gained from each race. This race-- the valuable lesson was how I dealt with the low in mile 2. I've heard so many people say, especially when talking about Ironman racing, that you have to learn how to deal with ups and down all day long, and not get too stuck in the "downs" because often, they will pass. For me, they've never passed, and that has always been my struggle. If I'm feeling decent all day, great, I'll keep working. But when things spiral downhill, when I start feeling horrible, in the past I've always let my mind take over and remained entrenched in the "down" for the rest of the race.
|I'm just throwing in random pictures to break up the words, work with me.|
And wouldn't you know it, by mile 3, I felt great again.
It got hot out there, but I just chugged along. I could tell from all the turnarounds that I was pretty safely in third and barring a miracle, wasn't going to be able to move up any more places, so I just tried to keep working and running smart. When I saw Nic and he meow'd at me....that was special. At the next turnaround, I had enough energy to give him a high-five. That was special, too. When all was said and done, despite the heat and humidity (people were positively melting out there), I had my fastest 10K in an Olympic distance race, ever. I'll take it.
In the end, I ended up in third place behind Lauren Jensen, an absolute stud who has been dominating short-course racing in this region for what, decades now?, and Kimberly Goodell, another Wisconsin stud. Those two have been first and second at Pleasant Prairie for the past four or more years, I think, and I knew going in it would take an extra special day to change that. Basically, I was thrilled to take third in such a stacked field, and happy with the day.
|On the podium with two Wisconsin rock stars|
|Posing with my check like a big ole' dork.|
So that's Pleasant Prairie. Great way to spend a Sunday, and now it's back to the (alcohol and junk-food free) grind!