A mere 366 days since signing up, and Ironman Pocono Mountains 70.3 had arrived.
Well, not quite.
The almost-record-breaking rainy months of August and September had left Stroudsburg Pennsylvania highly saturated, making the behavior of the Delaware River quite volatile. The days leading up to the race were proving to be equally as wet, rocketing the height of the river up almost 10 feet in a short amount of time. The currents became faster, and the amount of debris floating down the river increased.
Plus, it was a nasty shade of brown.
The race directors and National Park Service "jointly decided to cancel the swim", which made the overall distance of the race 69.1 miles. The 1.2 mile swim was no more. For those keeping track, that turned the race into a 56 mile bike, and a 13.1 mile run.
They cancelled the swim a couple of days in advance, so it gave the athletes plenty of time to process the news and release any frustration before race day. We (my buddy Colin and I) were bummed, but still very much wanted to race. We headed over to the event expo to register and pick up our race packets. The packet contained all of the things we'd need to be official participants in the race: race bib, race numbers for the bike and helmet, timing chip, etc. Additionally, we would have to check in our racing gear the day before the race. This was something that was new to us.
Typically, a triathlon will have a single 'transition area' which, after each leg of the race, the athlete will return to: swim; grab bike from transition area; ride; grab shoes from transition area; run; finish. The finish is also usually very close to the transition area. It's very convenient. Everything is in one spot.
However, the geography of Stroudsburg and surrounding areas pretty much dictated that the transition areas be in separate spots. The swim-to-bike transition (T1) was 8 miles from the bike-to-run transition (T2), which was 1 mile from the finish line. Logistically, it's a pain in the ass. Which is why the athletes needed to hustle around the day before the race to check in all of their gear.
We checked in all of our gear, which gave us an opportunity to scope out some of the race course. The road we drove down to get to the T1 would be the same road we'd have to ride up during the bike portion.
We got a little worried.
The road had some pretty intimidating hills. They weren't the worst we had ever seen, but they were going to be challenging. They were near the beginning of the bike course, so they'd really play a part in setting the tone for the rest of the ride.
We returned to the hotel, and got ready for a 4:30am wake up. Not surprisingly, we were both up at 4:15am; no alarm needed. We grabbed our gear and headed to T2 to grab a shuttle (read: big yellow school bus) to T1. The geography of the area wouldn't allow for all athletes to drive down to T1: There simply wasn't enough room. As a result, athletes had to be shuttled to T1.
It was a quiet 30 minute ride to T1. Almost quiet. While most athletes were silently sitting, thinking about the race, one woman was chatting away to a complete stranger about anything and everything she could think about. I think it was nerves; she must've had a lot of nervous energy and that's how she was calming herself down.
We arrived at T1 at 5:45am. To the bathroom! Invariably, there are never enough port-a-potties available at these races, so it's always a good idea to get in line early: by the time you get to the front of the line, you'll have to go to the bathroom.
We headed into T1, and finished setting up our gear (load up the water bottles, pump up the tires, eat some food, eye up the competition). Now we had some time to kill. We wandered over to what would've been the swim exit to take a look at the river. It was still high, and it was still moving fast. There was no way that anyone would be able to swim against the current (which is what part of the swim course required). We hated to admit it, but cancelling the swim was the absolute correct decision. We moseyed back up to T1 and looked at our watches. We had some more time to kill.
To the bathroom!
Better to wait in line early than not have enough time to go to the bathroom when it really matters.
It wasn't long before the pros were called to the starting line to begin the race. The race directors decided to make the beginning of the race a Time Trial start. That simply means that athletes would cross the start line one at a time, at a specific time interval. The interval for the pros would be 30 seconds. The interval for everyone else would be 3 seconds. So every 3 seconds, another athlete is beginning the race. Race number would determine order. I was 398 and Colin was 1944, so we weren't going to start anywhere near each other, and we most likely wouldn't see each other on the bike course.
I unracked my bike, and awaited my turn to cross the starting line. "Ready. Set. Go. Ready. Set. Go. Ready. Set. Go". The race director said over and over and over as the athletes in front of me crossed the line and headed out on the course. Finally, I was the person to whom he was saying, "Ready. Set. Go". I ran across the timing mat with my bike towards the bike mount line, roughly 20 yards away. I crossed the mount line, hopped on my bike, and got moving.
I was ready.
It was a quick left turn out of the park area onto the first main road. I was moving at a good pace, and was feeling strong. I decided to push it a little bit to get out of the congestion that comes when 398 people are on the course, spread out by only 15 minutes.
I reached the first turnaround, and there was still a lot of congestion. The road was narrow, making the 180 degree turn even tougher. The roads were in decent shape. They were wet, but they were smooth and not too filled with debris. I hit the 5 mile mark and looked down at my watch: 14:28. I thought something was wrong. That was too fast. But then I realized that I was probably averaging a little above 20mph, and the math made sense. I just didn't think I was going that fast.
I hit the first challenging hill. Some people were off their bikes, walking up it. Wow, already claiming casualties. I was surprised. It was a tough little hill, but it wasn't the one that I had made a mental note of when we were driving down the day before. It wasn't long before I arrived at the foot of the climb. It was steeper and longer than the first one. This was it; the badass hill that we were worried about. I dropped into a lower gear and start chugging along. It was tough, but it was early enough in the race that my legs were fresh, so I was able to crest the top pretty quickly. I was out of breath, but feeling strong. I cranked back into a higher gear and was off again.
The course took a sharp left onto Hidden Lake Road (I never found the lake, it's pretty hidden I guess), which was slightly more gravelly than desired. It seemed freshly paved, but more resembled one of those black rubber gravel tracks. I think it was an emergency paving job to get it into a good enough state to ride on.
The next 15 or so miles were pretty uneventful. I rode strong, passed some people, got passed by some people, and generally felt good. I had an energy bar around mile 15, as I had planned, and gulped down gatorade when I got the chance. It seemed that every time I took my water bottle out of the cage, another small hill appeared in front of me. I had to scramble to get it back in the cage so I could focus on the hill.
There was some great scenery along the way, along with some not-so-great road conditions. Rustic barns and potholed roads made for an interesting middle-course ride. It was at about this point that the course took on an interesting characteristic: several very fast descents followed quickly by quick, unexpected turns. If there had only been one, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but it happened 3 separate times, which led me to believe that the course designer may or may not have done it on purpose. I was equally aggravated but appreciative. Sure, I would've liked to coast for as long as gravity would allow, but I like that there was never an opportunity to slack off for too long. This course was all business. And poo. Around mile 33 there was a nice steaming pile on the road. Most likely not from a fellow competitor. I guess you never know, though.
I was getting into a stride through miles 30-40, and then, as I should've expected, the course hit me (and all of us) with a nice surprise climb. It was a short, but fairly steep hill that seemed to come out of nowhere, so there was no way to cheat and let momentum help you up the hill. It was right around Mile 42, which, as far as I can tell, is about where the mythical "wall" is hit for athletes on a 56-mile course. It was that point where you are beginning to tire and are hoping that the remaining 14 miles will be an easy ride. I was slowed to a very very slow pace. I was not pleased with myself
It was in the middle of that hill that an old rowing teammate passed me. Until earlier that morning, I had no idea that he was in the race. I thought I had seen someone at the expo the day before that looked like him, but passed it off as my brain playing tricks on me. It wasn't until I noticed him in the transition area that I was fairly certain that it was him. And even then, I wasn't 100% sure. Plus, I was trying to focus on the impending race start, so I was trying not to distract myself.
But as he passed me, I could tell it was definitely my old buddy Matt. I motored up the hill and caught up to him to chat with him briefly. We talked a bit about our racing schedules (he had done a couple Ironmans and was planning on doing Lake Placid), and a little of our old rowing days, and then it was back to business. He took off again, but I was determined to stick with him for as long as I could. After all, it had taken him 42 miles to catch me (he started a few minutes behind me), so we were somewhat evenly paced. He pulled far ahead, and I was able to make up some ground, but then he pulled ahead some more and just kept going. He was moving.
That brief encounter gave me a little bit of energy, and I was able to hammer it for the next 8 or so miles. There was a nice tough uphill which I was able to get up to hit the 50 mile marker at around 2:37. I was happy with that. 6 more miles at a hopeful 3 minutes/mile and I'd be at T2 in under 3 hours.
I made some final turns in the town of Stroudsburg where some crowds had gathered so I knew I was getting close. I started to recognize the area, and before I knew it, I was heading into T2. I actually got there around 2:49, so either the 50-mile marker was incorrect, it wasn't a full 56 mile course, or I'm just a freaking beast. I doubt it's the last one.
I dismounted and headed into the transition area. Definitely got a little choked up. Not sure why, but was just feeling really good, and was so grateful for all of the volunteers that were there to donate their time to make sure things went well for us.
I racked my bike, threw my sneakers on, grabbed some energy, and then just stood there for a second. Was it time to go? Yea, I guess it was. I ran out...but then quickly doubled back to grab some water. I knew I needed it. I felt a little cramped running out of transition, but overall was feeling pretty strong...surprisingly strong. Made a few quick turns out of the track area and through the parking lot, where I ran past Maggie and Eileen. They cheered me on, and asked how I felt, to which I responded "not feeling like running 13 miles", but I said it with a smile and was feeling really good. In all honesty, at that point, I was looking forward to the next 13 miles.
I made my way to Main St. in Stroudsburg and got energized by the groups of people that had gathered. I turned left onto a side street to follow the course, and almost ran into Colin's parents. They were making their way to Main St. to find a good viewing spot, and I just happened to see them. Such good people, it was a big boost to see them and say a few words.
Some more running to the first aid station where they were all dressed in pink. I guess they wanted to have a theme. Some costumes, a tutu, a cape, a helmet...all pink. I think I took some water, but can't remember exactly. I must've. I wouldn't pass up an opportunity for water.
I headed up a slight incline, and started cramping up in my hamstring. I thought I could stride it out, but it didn't go away, so I decided to reach down and see if I could massage it while still running. That was a mistake. As soon as I touched my hamstring, it scrunched into a ball and I was in full cramp mode. I had to stop running to stretch it out. Someone asked if I was okay. "Yea, just cramps".
I got going again, having only lost about 30 seconds. I hit mile 2 under 17:00, so even with the stop, I was moving at a decent pace. I got to the next aid station, where they...had....bananas! Just what I needed to prevent cramping. Actually, I'm not certain that potassium after the fact helps, but I was going to as many bananas as I could. Help is on the way, boys!
I got into a good stride again, but some guys were passing me. They were trucking. The professional men were making their way back already. wow. I yelled out at them, but I doubt they needed the inspiration
At around Mile 4, there was a decent uphill. My legs started to get more and more cramped. Now it was both hamstrings and my quads as well. Near the top of the hill, it got so bad that I had to stop. I tried to stretch out my quad, which was a terrible idea. My hamstring tightened right up and I was frozen. The cramps prevented me from moving my legs in either direction. I was able to scuttle over to a downed tree branch to sit on it. I tried to massage my legs, but it didn't seem to be helping. Some motorcycle cops stopped and asked how I was doing. I told them I was fine and that I just had cramps. A woman ran by at right then and yelled out, "ya gotta walk it out". So I tried to get up to walk it out. Maybe it was the break, maybe it was the bananas, but my legs started to feel better. I walked a bit, and then quickly got to running again. There was a bit of a downhill, so I could move a little more freely. I had clearly lost some time. I got to the 5 mile marker at around 45:00, so I was now averaging 9 minute miles. Mile 6.5 was supposed to be the turnaround, and I could feel that I was getting closer. I hit another aid station and grabbed some water, some gatorade, and of course, a banana.
I reached Mile 6, and my old rowing buddy hadn't yet passed me. He really wasn't that far ahead. The aid station people said that there was still about a mile to go, so maybe the turnaround wasn't as close as I had thought. Finally, we crossed paths and gave each other some encouragement. He looked pretty strong. I think I looked alright.
I reached the turnaround at around 1:01:30, which put me under 9:00/mile pace. I was feeling strong and was more than halfway home. The trip back was strong, but uneventful. I was a little slow up the hills, but still felt good. I grabbed some water, soda and bananas to keep me going.
I passed by Colin around mile 8.5. He looked good. We slapped hands amid the crowd of runners. The guy in front of him thought that I was trying to slap his hand. weird.
I got to mile 10, and just started thinking about beer. I just wanted a beer. That's all. I wanted to sit at the bar, and drink a beer. I knew I only had a 5k to run. A run around the river in Boston. I'd done that run a million times. I was there. And as I got out of my beer haze, I hit mile 11. I was golden. Some pesky uphills got me out of breath, but my cramps were gone, and I was feeling good.
Around mile 11, there were some guys that must've read my mind, they had a table full of beer. Oh, but it was Rolling Rock. boo. I asked if they had any Yuengling, but no luck. I ran on.
I was starting to recognize the area as very close to Main St. I passed by the pink station again, and I knew I was home free. I felt really strong for the final two miles. The fact that I had ridden 56 miles and run 11 seemed to have 0 effect on me. I just felt like I was out for a nice 2 mile run.
A few quick turns, and then I was on Main St. It was a long chute to the finish, but there were so many people there, it was amazing. I happened to be the only person running down the street at that point in time, so there was no mistake that those people were cheering for me. And I couldn't help but get choked up. I know they hadn't come to see me, and were probably just waiting for their loved ones, but for about 10 seconds, these complete strangers were yelling for me. It was a pretty great feeling. I decided to take a breath and focus and pick up the pace to finish strong. I was hurting by the end, but I finished in good form. The announcer yelled my name, and I crossed the finishing mat. I was done
I grabbed some water and gatorade, and a volunteer took my timing chip. I got my medal and obligatory foil sheet (it was kind of chilly, after all). And I was officially done. Snapped a photo in front of the stand, found Maggie, Colin's parents, Eileen and started recounting the story.
I found my old rowing buddy and chatted with him a bit. He was a member of the Philly Tri Club, and was gearing up for bigger and better things.
I waited for Colin to come down the chute, he looked good finishing.
Final times for Me:
Bike - 2:49:22 - 19.8mph
Run - 1:54:59 - 8:47 pace
Colin:
Bike - 2:53:16 19.4mph
Run - 1:57:38 8:59 pace
All that was left was to have a Yuengling, watch the Eagles game, and have a DQ Blizzard, and I could call it a day.
Plenty to learn from this race. That'll have to be for another post.
