I violated the "never do an inaugural event" rule, and while there were some hiccups, overall the day was a success. There are always things learned during any race, but inaugural ones can be quite challenging for participants and race directors alike.
The Road Trip
Our drive from Indianapolis was uneventful until we tried to get out of Charlston, WV. We made it two exits past our hotel before being caught in a major traffic jam. There had just been some sort of accident that looked like a simple fender-bender when we finally drove by it almost an hour later. It was a nice morning, though, so we got out and wandered the highway, making friends with the locals who were using their smart phones to find out what was going on. One was originally from L.A., and we laughed at the lack of road rage.
The detour along part of the Blue Ridge Parkway was a nice break from interstates. We took the time to stop and look around, and enjoy the beautiful afternoon.
Pre-Race
This was a two-transition race, which always complicates things. What this means is that you get out of the water and start the bike at one location, then come back to a totally different location to rack the bike and start the run. Logistically, the set-up is a pain. You have to check the bike into T1 (transition 1) the day before the race, then go back to it race morning to put your fluids and nutrition on it, and set up with the helmet/bike shoes/towel/etc. Saturday, we checked our bikes, then spent the rest of the day at Colonial Williamsburg.
Race morning we got to the finish area/T2 and got parked. Paula was doing the Olympic distance tri that was happening simultaneously, and we both got our run stuff set up and ready to go. Then we got in line for the shuttles to T1...and encountered the first "new race" issue: not nearly enough buses. They were allowing both the half and olympic participants to board, along with spectators and family, which would have been great had there been enough buses. (My race started 30 minutes before Paula's.) The longer we stood in line, the higher everyone's stress level got. Transition was supposed to close in less than half an hour, and the line was around the corner and down the block. Finally they moved all of us doing the half to another line and got us on the next couple of buses, then brought everyone else.
As it turned out, Paula and Shirley got there right behind me. I had just finished getting set up with my fluids on the bike, shoes, helmet, and race belt. My race was about to start, and I was relieved to hear they were delaying the start a few minutes, so I had time to hit a port-a-john. Thank goodness. I still haven't mastered the art of peeing while swimming, so waiting wasn't an option.
The Swim
I've done 60+ triathlons, and this was by far the most frustrating swim I have ever experienced.
The swim was in the James River, which is a tidal river. Apparently it can get very squirrely when weather comes through, and we had a rainstorm come through overnight Saturday. The course was a giant triangle, making two right turns around two red buoys. Paula's swim was a smaller triangle inside of mine, with two orange/yellow buoys marking her turns. There were yellow buoys guiding the way to the turns. Seemed clear enough from the shore.
The swim start was in waves, with the pros starting first, then younger folks, then older folks. I watched the first few waves start, and immediately was confused. People were WALKING most of the way to the first yellow buoy. Whaaaaa? A few were dolphin-diving, trying to make some headway, but the vast majority were walking. Very odd. My wave started, and a few people tried to swim/dolphin dive, but there were too many people walking to get any swimming space. I trudged out along with the rest of them.
The swim was ok for the first two or three yellow buoys, but we clearly were getting pushed around. I couldn't really see the red buoy, but was in a crowd of swimmers, so was hopeful some of them could see it. However, as we approached the orange/yellow buoy for the Olympic turn, it became clear that we were off course. Um, ok, now to figure out where we were supposed to be. A kayaker came through and pointed out the red buoy, waaaaaaay over there, about 90 degrees from our swim direction. Oh great. I couldn't figure out how the yellow buoys were in any way guiding people over there...maybe some had drifted? I don't know. There were probably at least 50 of us in that group. Sigh. Ok, I'll start heading out to the red buoy.
Only I didn't get anywhere. I swam and swam and swam, and every time I looked up, that damned orange/yellow buoy was the same distance off my shoulder. WTF. I was hit with a serious bout of frustration, and struggled to shake it off. A woman swam over to a nearby kayak and appeared to be quitting (she took off her swim cap and goggles and hung on). That's when I made the conscious decision to cut the course and simply try to get back to the line of swimmers that were on course. Apparently that's what most of us did, judging by the number of violet-colored swim caps I saw right there with me.
I swam for what felt like forever, finally spotted the second red buoy, and thought perhaps this hell was almost over. I made decent, if slow, progress, but at least I wasn't looking at that effing orange buoy anymore. I felt another intense wave of frustration, as I realized how pitifully slow my progress really was, then got pissed, then decided, "Oh what the hell, this'll be good endurance practice for Ironman. And besides, I paid $250 for this punishment, and drove 750 miles to get here. And I really want to ride my new bike. Suck it up."
Swam and swam and swam and...finally made it within maybe 50 yards of the second red buoy, then totally stalled out. Wasn't getting anywhere. After another few minutes of swimming, I confirmed this by looking at my Garmin. Finally, I checked the distance again, and had gone .84 miles. Hmmm. Ok. If I cut the course again (along with lots of fellow swimmers), I'll end up doing the full 1.2 miles anyway, and I'll get out of here sometime before noon. I've never ever cut a course before, but this time it really had become a matter of survival. The fact that not one of the kayakers was trying to herd us back on course was significant. Clearly the swim had devolved into such a cluster that they really just wanted people out of the water.
Imagine my surprise when I finally had the finish in sight, still a good 100 yards away, and I saw the backsides of people standing! How odd. Normally you swim until your hands are brushing the bottom, as that is much faster than walking in waist-deep water. Wow. Looks like everyone else was as beat up and tired of swimming as I was! Ok, I'll start walking too. It gave me time to pull the wetsuit down to my waist, and I can pee while walking, just not while swimming. Hooray! I joined the mass of walking, peeing swimmers, and happily made my way to shore.
Paula's swim started 30 minutes after mine, so I expected her to finish maybe 15 minutes after I did. I was concerned about her the entire swim, because these were unusually horrid conditions, and she's not used to that kind of challenge. Shirley met me at the shore, and I mentioned to her that I was worried. It was a quarter of a mile to transition, and once again it was clear this had been a tough one, not part of my imagination. Ordinarily in a race, people are running to get to their bikes and get out on the road. Not this time. Almost no one was bothering to run; they were walking and taking their time. One woman said, "I've done an Ironman, and that was the hardest thing I've ever done." Another normally swam that distance in 36 minutes, yet here she was getting out of the water with me after an hour and four minutes. Yikes. I normally take about 45 minutes.
Swim time: 1:04:14 [15-20 minutes slower than usual]
T1
Just as I was about to leave on the bike, Paula came up and told me she had been pulled. She was in good company. There were two people with her on the boat who had completed multiple Ironmans, and they were calling it a day. While disappointed for her, I wasn't surprised (it was THAT bad), and was able to relax, knowing she was ok. [She later told me that between the late start and the currents, people were out there longer than expected - no surprise. However, the ferry was coming, and they were worried people might get pulled under, so they hauled swimmers out of the water until it passed. They were given the option to get back in the water and continue, but most packed it in for the day.] Between the very long trek back to the bike and chatting with Paula to make sure she was ok, I had the world's longest T1 time, over ten minutes. Oh well, really not going to matter when I hit the finish line. Time to enjoy the bike.
The Bike
This was the third time I had ridden my new bike, but I felt comfortable that it would be fine, since I'd done 64 miles on it the previous weekend. Still, I wasn't completely sure how I'd feel in a race situation by mile 56. As it happened, I thoroughly enjoyed the bike course. It was beautiful, green, mostly good roads, some nice winding sections, and rollers that were just enough to make it challenging but not particularly hard. While not especially fast, I fell in love with the bike as I was passing people going up hills...and wasn't exhausting myself. Since the day had already started with a slow swim and slow transition, I decided to experiment and see how I felt if I didn't stop until the last aid station at mile 38. At that point I stopped long enough to stand up, take some water, and transfer the last of my protein/carb drink to the front bottle on the bike, where it's easy to access. Felt ok, but probably should stop and stand up every 20 miles or so. I think I wouldn't slow down quite as much near the end and would make up for any rest time.
The best part of the bike was around mile 50, when I passed some younger guy (wearing an uber-expensive aero helmet and using expensive wheels), going up a hill. And didn't see him again. Hehehe all that expensive gear didn't prevent him from being chicked by someone close to 20 years older. That made the last six miles fly by. Happily got off the bike after 56 miles, and left for the run.
Bike time: 3:26:24 [about the same as usual, maybe +10 minutes]
The Run
Ah, the joy of being a BOP-er (back of the packer)...start the run in the heat of the day. Nothing new there, I'm used to that. The run was hillier than advertised, but was fine. Thankfully there weren't too many stretches without shade, and the support was phenomenal. Wet sponges at some stations, ice and gels at most, and very supportive and enthusiastic volunteers at all of them. It was a two-loop course that made it easy to find your peeps near the end, and it was nice to see Paula and Shirley as I came through both times. I stopped and chatted with Paula for a minute, making sure she was ok with how her day had ended. She was disappointed but ok, so I could relax again for the second loop. It was very spectator-friendly, and the finish was noisy and supportive. I did my usual walk/trudge combo, and was definitely slower due to the heat, but still managed to pass quite a few people along the way. One woman and I kept leap-frogging each other and laughing about it. I knew I liked her when she passed me at an aid station around mile 12, shook her head, and said, "Oh holy shit!", referring to the heat. My sentiments exactly.
Paula joined me at the entrance to the finisher chute, and ran with me to the finish. Was handed a nice cold wet towel and an enormous medal. What a nice way to finish a long hot day!
Run time: 2:38:37 [~10 minutes slower than usual]
Total race time: 7:22:18 [anything under 7:00 is a gift, so not bad]
Post-Race
Got cleaned up, had a lamb burger and a beer, then relaxed for a couple of hours. We did an evening "ghost walk" at Colonial Williamsburg that night and thoroughly enjoyed it. Monday we walked ourselves silly at Busch Gardens, and managed to ride almost every coaster there before the heat/stomachs made us stop. This was an excellent venue for a destination race, and I truly hope they can get the swim issues worked out. This has the potential to be a truly kick-butt event.
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