Steelhead 70.3

"Go, sister you are almost there!" I turn towards the voice as she yells again. "Keep going!"
I see her smiling face with her camera in hand as she cheers me on to the finish line. "Go Lindy!" Another unmistakable voice says. I turn and I get a quick glance of my dad's face in the crowd.

My hands go up in the air as I triumphantly cross the finish line. Well done Linda, well done.

_______

I arrive at transition with my towel, wet-suit and gear in hand around 6:15am. I checked my bike in overnight so it's already racked and ready to go. My wave doesn't go off until 7:24am but they are kicking everyone out of the transition area at 6:45am. I know I am early but I always like to have some time to set up my things without feeling rushed.

I meet my dad and sister once I have everything ready to go and we make the 1.2 mile walk down the beach to the swim start. I've always found it odd when they refer to the stretch of dirt or sand surrounding a body of water as "the beach." I mean it's Lake Michigan not the Pacific Ocean. But make no mistake, today the lake is alive and moving. The wind has picked up and with it so have the waves. There is a slight current but the water feels warm.

Having my family with me has definitely helped my nerves. It's just a training I keep thinking to myself, no big deal. I put on my cap and goggles and jump in to test the waters.

Once out of the water my nerves are gone. I got this, no problem. We hear the cannon go off signaling the start of the race. The pros are first and shortly after the age groups start. I'm in Wave #7 Females 30-34. I give my dad and sister a hug and I take my spot on the sand. I see many nervous faces around me as everyone seems to be studying the water. I strike up a quick conversation with the girl next to me and ask if these conditions are typical. She informs me that this race is notorious for canceling the swim portion, so these waves are nothing like in years past. I love them, the waves I mean. It feels just like home. Like the beaches of Malibu or Santa Barbara where I normally train.

3,2,1... Boom! We all take off, but no one starts swimming. Instead everyone is walking. It's really shallow so no point in diving in just yet. We get further out in the water and it finally gets deep enough to start. I'm surrounded by a sea of yellow caps. I am calm. I concentrate on my stroke and focus on keeping my head down. I am feeling good as I weave through the yellow caps. One stroke at a time I keep moving through the water. The water is really choppy and it doesn't seem like I'm going anywhere. I take one stroke on the peak of the wave and another in the bottom of the trough. I remind myself to just keep swimming because there really is no other option. I breathe and see the buoy to my right. I follow the swimmers in front of me and I realize I'm now deep into a sea of blue caps. Where did all the yellows go? Oh well, keep moving. Another buoy, and another. Little by little I pass the blue caps, and I am well into the purples when I see a random green. Green? Holy crap, she was in the wave after me. Good for you girl. I swim by some pink caps who are literally stopped in the water, and some orange caps that are doggy paddling. The waves are absolutely relentless. We don't stop! The "we" I am referring to in this instance, is my mind and my body. "We" can slow down, but "we" never stop.

As I round the big red buoy and make my way in I start thinking about my transition. Don't waste time. Make every move count. I run out of the water and I see them again. I'm so happy that they're here. "Go Linda go!" I keep making my way through the sand, run down the long stretch of pavement and reach my bike. The next sequence of events flows just as I had pictured it. Wet-suit off. Dry off feet. Socks on. Shirt on. Glasses on. Helmet on. Bike off rack. Run out. I pass the mounting line, place my right foot into my shoe and take the first pedal stroke. The rubber bands break and I'm off and rolling.

I think the key to survive a long bike ride is not to focus on how many miles you have to ride or how long its going to take, but finding little things that will keep your focus elsewhere. For example, as soon as I get on the bike I tell myself, you can eat your first snack once you've been riding for thirty minutes. Awesome. Thirty minutes go by and I am enjoying my delicious apple cinnamon rice cake. Ok Linda, in thirty more minutes you can check your odometer and see how far you have gone. Yay! One hour later and I am pressing the buttons on my CatEye bike computer and I read the number.

In long distance triathlons you have a lot of time to think or even have conversations with yourself. You have so much time out there that it's nearly impossible for your thoughts not to take over. Another hour goes by and it's time to check my odometer again and my thoughts begin to spiral as I see the number.

At this point I've been riding for two hours.

I believe I have a little more than an hour to go.

What if I picked up my speed even more?

Let's do the math

18 miles +18 more miles... 

I have to ride 56 miles, I've ridden 36 so far.

If I picked my speed up to let's say 20 mph

 I have a chance at breaking the 3 hour mark.

56 miles in under 3 hours.

Wow, that would be amazing.

I've never done that before...

I pick up my speed as it sets in that I might actually be able to do this. It helps that on the way back the course seems to be in my favor, a slight decline with a little bit of wind to my back. Keep moving Linda! It's going to be very close. It is safe to say that I have never pushed myself this hard on a bike ride. Up until recently the bike portion of the triathlon was just something I had to "get through." Now, I enjoy it immensely.

I have no idea what my final bike time is as I approach the dismount line, and to tell you the truth, I don't really care. Whatever it was I now have a 13.1 mile run to worry about. Transition #2 is always faster than when you come out of the water. Just less stuff to deal with. I see my cheering squad again as I head out on the run course. Last portion of the triathlon, yes!

Your body feels so weird, those first two miles on the run, as it adjusts to the pavement directly under your feet. This sucks! I feel like stopping. We don't stop! Remember? That's right, we don't stop. Little by little I run one mile at a time. There are aid stations all over this two loop course. I make sure to grab water and ice at each one, never stopping, never really drinking a full glass of water.

On the run course is where you start making friends. There are no rules about running too close to someone and because everyone is tired and most are ready for the run to be over with, people are eager to pass the time with any sort of conversation that you give them. I know I am. A few "good jobs" and "keep it ups" later I find myself on the second loop of the course when someone shouts out the time: 12:48pm.

My wave started at 7:24am

In order to break 6 hours,

I have to cross the finish line at 1:24pm.

If it's indeed 12:48pm right now

I have a little over 30 minutes to get to the finish line...

I'm not sure exactly where I am on the course

I know I'm somewhere between mile 9 and 10

I snap myself right out of my thought spiral as I see the sign to my right that reads Mile 10. Come on Linda, move it! Only 3.1 miles to go! You have less than thirty minutes! You can do it! My pace gets faster and my focus is razor sharp. I now have one single goal, to cross the finish line before it says 6:00:00. I grab one more cup of water and ice at the second to last aid station, and I don't drop my new pace until it's all over.

The finish line is near, I can tell because I hear the noise from the crowd. I smile knowing that somewhere in that noise, my dad and sister waiting for me to cross the finish line. 

My final race time
5:56:37