Triathlon (3 of 5): Bike
There are almost no pictures of this section.
This out-n-back takes us into town and back again. We were on normal roads, not closed to traffic although there were police at intersections holding back traffic. I was so grateful that I spent so much time training under similar conditions.... except for those hills. Hunter is in the Catskills. We had driven the course the night before and I started to have a panic attack, “oh my god, this is so far!” My sister, who is a biker and hiker talks me down “You dont have to get all the way there, you just have to get to the next tree, to the top of the next hill. It's gotten me through some pretty tough hikes!”
I'm slow on the bike too. This was the leg that I anticipated being my toughest.
Off I went. The Race Director warned us. The road out of the campground has been marked with cones where there are occlusions, potholes and serious cracks in the road. Some have been filled in with stone dust. There are no branches or leaves, but the light rain has me feeling grateful for my normal tires instead of racing slicks. Mindful of the need for hydration, I take mouthfuls of my 50% Gatorade mix.
The first mile is reasonable ups and downs and then there is a long mile downhill. I'm grateful because it gives me a chance to finish catching my breath from the swim, but in the back of my mind, I know I will face this hill again. At the end. Going uphill.
Pay attention. This hill will be important later.
At mile 2.1 I start to see the Elites on their way back in. I call out positions to the 1st, 2nd and 3rd placers. I call out thank you to the volunteers that I see. I hug the right when I get passed and wish them good luck.
Then there is the first major uphill. Its some incredible grade, where if you lived on it, you would have to have stairs into your front door. Its about half a mile and I spend more time in 1st gear than any other time on my bike – possibly combined. At one point my chain popped … but God must have seen me, because it spiraled itself right onto the next gear and I never had to get off the bike. And I never walked.
I never passed a soul. The only person I passed was someone who also popped her chain and had to put it back on. Then she passed me again on a flat bit. I was passed by loads of people. I wanted to feel jealous, but I was really just working too hard.
Its difficult to describe the physical/mental/emotional tangle that was going on during the bike portion of the race. Physically, I was going as fast as I could. Physically, I recognized all the same feelings as when I trained. Sort of like a comfy pair of sweatpants. I'd like to go faster, but I just cant seem to move my legs any more. It is my biggest area for improvement.
The kicker was when some old guy passed me. “Can you believe these hills?” he said as he passed. And I was thinking of doing this on my single gear!” Well, at least I know I'm not the only one feeling it.
Finally I come down that uphill. The breeze is wonderful. There's a pretty strong turn at the bottom, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. Then there was that less steep, but longer uphill that I knew was waiting for me. I start pedaling again. My running sneakers bend, melting over the pedals. I feel my heart start to pound. I check in, it assures me that its working hard, but “We got this. You keep going.” The uphill continues. “It feels just like when you're at 90% on the HR monitor. We're ok for now.” Still more uphill. The pounding in my sternum moves up so now I can feel the arteries in my head actually thumping on the inside of my ears. “We're not going to die, but is there a top to this hill sometime soon?” I start heaving like an asthmatic and pleading with God & my Body: “I can see the top. We're almost there. If it's flat, we'll have time to recover. If there is a downhill, we're golden.” I really dont want to walk. That would be defeat.
Plus, I know my recovery rate. Within 10 seconds on a flat, my HR would be back down out of the painful territory. If I get so fortunate as to be on a bit of a downhill, I could really begin to get my wind back.
Finally, I crest the hill. There were no fireworks, but my pulse came out of my ears and I stopped worrying about heart damage. A few more up and downs, then I see the big “Stop and Walk Bike” sign. Only I misjudged and ended up skidding the tires for a few inches in order to stop on time. I walk in trying to shake the worst of the Brick feeling from my legs.
Proof of how slow I was? The woman in the stall next to me? She's cleaning up to leave just as I pull in for T2. We exchange pleasantries as I park, “ Could you believe those hills?” she says to me.
Since I'm already wearing my sneakers, there is nothing to this transition. Park and go. My sister has taken refuge from the sporadic showers under one of the volunteer's tents.
Only the run to go. Triathlon, you are mine, BITCH.