Encinitas Sprint Triathlon Race Report

Okay folks, I'm under the clock. Literally. Remembter back in January...when I was challenged by my Other Half to take LESS time to write my race reports than to actually race? Well, I've got exactly 1:09:0? to write. So here we go...

ENCINITAS SPRINT TRIATHLON RACE REPORT.

We all knew that I was excited going into this race. It was tough yesterday - I just wanted to GO! And last night, well, that was hard. I went to bed after watching the Giro recap, woke up a few times, and finally decided that sleep was no longer possible at 2:51 am.

Yes, I woke up bright eyed and busy tailed at 2:51 am.

For a 6:52 am start. You do the math.

Regardless, I ate my usual pre-race breakfast of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and jar of baby food bananas. Yes, you read that correctly - baby food bananas. I blame Jen Harrison - but she was right when we discussed that there's just something so gross about a real banana. It's a texture thing. But they're so healthy...and really, the baby food isn't all that bad. So that too, was on the menu.

After getting dressed, surfing the web, sipping coffee, more web surfing, and looking for my watch that I never found (as I side note - I've NEVER raced without a watch, in particular this watch...its been with me since 2006), we were off. By 5:15 Nathaniel and I were rolling into Encinitas and figured that the Parking Gods must have been happy, as we got a great spot right near Roxy's Diner.

4 blocks from the transition area. Score!

Jen had warned me that I would need a VERY long warm up, so I quickly found my bike rack (Row 4!), confirmed that it was indeed the correct rack, got body marked, and set out for a long run. 3 miles + a few pick-ups later, my legs felt semi-decent. Not fast, no. Just....steady.

And strong. And solid. Perhaps a tad bit 'springy' - but I knew that would quickly be gone by the time I was running off the bike.

After the run, it was a quick 20-minute bike ride, where I was able to recon most of the course. The marine layer was quite thick, and it was at this point that I realized that wearing glasses probably wouldn't be a good thing if I wanted to see anything at all. I crossed my fingers and hoped that all the really big bugs were flying elsewhere and in sunnier places.

Finally, after re-wracking my bike, I wiggled into the wetsuit and walked down to the shore. I wanted to at least get wet...but didn't want to venture out too far a la shark bait (there - I said it!). Instead, I played in the waves, practiced diving under the surf, and found out the hard way that the hard packed sand under the water was EXTREMELY uneven. I chuckled under my breath as another fellow swimmer face planted directly next to me, only to find myself eating sand less than :10 seconds later. Classic.

Luckily, everyone around me was going down, so I was in good company.

The surf really wasn't that bad. The water was very calm beyond the surf zone. Just getting there was the hard part. Luckily the waves weren't that high. The morning surf report called for ankle to chest-high surf, but I'm sure a few were a bit bigger. At least they appeared larger as they drove towards my horizontal (and flailing) form. Tuck chin, hands over head, kick kick kick kick kick emerge breath!

Before I knew it, I turned around, caught a wave back in, and trudged up the beach towards the starting corral. After watching the first pro wave take off (where yes, several of them face-planted...it was a day for face plants, I swear), and the white-capped wave ahead of me run, I suddenly found myself lined up right in the front row awaiting my own start.

The waves were spaced 6:00 apart - so I was able to watch most of the professionals complete their swim before we set off. The current didn't seem that bad, and the race director warned that we should sight RIGHT on the yellow triangle in the distance, turn, and then sight RIGHT on the GIANT PALM TREE on the beach. As long as we headed for the tree, we would be great.

All right.

The final 3:00, 2:00, 1:00, :30, :10 count down... and suddenly, WE WERE OFF!

The Horn sounds and I run as fast as I can towards the surf. There is minimal contact between me and the girls next to me. I was grateful - first time doing a beach running start and I haven't been pummeled. I hit the waters edge and step step step PLOP! I face plant, my goggles come flying up, I've got sand in my eyes, and the girls that had been next to me are suddenly 10 feet ahead dolphin diving through the waves.

I pick myself up, quickly throw on the goggles and run (cautiously) out to sea. I swim strong and as bravely as possible through the waves. What seemed like piddly-little things from shore are suddenly monsters. I look up a few times and see a wall of water hurtling towards me. I duck under and kick with all my might - just like I've seen surfers do, and emerge unscathed. Again and again and again.

I know that the hard part is getting past the surf zone. And then once I'm out, I'm home free. It seems to take forever, but at last the wave surface height isn't so huge, and I get into a rythm. Immediately I spot three pink caps ahead and I work as hard as I can to bridge the gap. The swimmers to my right and left slowly fall away and I can no longer feel the tapping on my feet. A quick glance back while breathing confirms that I'm between packs on my own.

Like the lone zebra on the plain filled with ravenous lions.

I push the thought of sharks, and how they are oppourtunistic predators as far out of my mind as possible and re-double my efforts on cathing the trio ahead. Occasionally I see lifeguards guarding the course, and I think of them as guardians of the sea. They are wonderful and make me feel safe(r).

Soon, I'm rounding the buoy and heading back to shore. I'm still alone and I don't feel like I've made up any ground on the swimmers ahead. But I don't give up. I look up every few strokes and sight off the HUGE tree. Yes, it's as big as the RDs promised, but it still seems so far. I'm 1/4 mile out and between packs. On my own.

And then I swear that I see a shadow under me. But I can' be sure. It's probably just the salt water stuck in my goggles from my earlier face plant. But it's still unnerving. A few strokes later I swear that I see it again. I have brief flashes of bright red blood and scary things - but I keep going. There is absolutely nothing I can do at this point.

Besides - I know for a fact that bull sharks (which thankfully aren't native to these waters) can sense an increase in heart rate...and thus can sense fear. I wonder if Great Whites have the same sensory cues. All sharks are different...

FOCUS! RACE! CATCH THE GIRLS AHEAD!

Suddenly I realize the waves are getting bigger and I'm rising and then falling every few strokes. I'm entering the surf zone and if I time it right - I can catch a wave and ride it in. I look back every few strokes and kick hard to catch a big one - but it just passes me. I fall down the back side, the palm tree disappearing completely and work hard to catch the next one. This one I get! It works - and I suddenly find myself touching the sand with my hands.

I've made it!

I look behind me to make sure I don't get knocked over by the surf and half-run, half-gallop my way up the beach. It's not pretty - but at least I only face planted once.

I see the pink caps ahead and they don't seem too far. The sand is soft and I quick step through it, but if feels welcome on my toes. I find my wetsuit cord and unzip myself as I'm running, managing to get my arms out of the sleeves before I hit the steep walkway up the cliff to the transition zone. I know there's another pink cap girl from my wave right behind me and I want to keep her there. A few times I grab the railing to pull myself forward, figuring that I won't need my arms for the bike and run...

I thank as many volunteers as I can, sight my rack off the end of the port-o-potties, find the bike and pull off the rest of my wetsuit. This time I don't have to sit on the ground to get it off - I just get it off while standing up. The first time ever! But I know time is important - I can't admire my wetsuit handiwork. Wetsuit tossed aside, I put on my bike shoes, throw on the helmet, grab the bike and run out of the transition zone.

Clip clop clip clop clip clop clip clop....

My bike shoes rattle as I run in them. Nothing I can do about the no-bike-shoes-attatched-to-bike-frame rule out here. No matter that I've been practicing the fancy and uber-cool looking ITU-style bike mount. No time for that today. I cross the timing chip, throw my leg over the bike, shoes already on my feet, clip in and GO.

Immediately I put my head down. This is going to hurt and I don't care. There are two girls that I know of from my age group ahead - I passed one in transition. But I know that there were a few others hot on my heels, and I didn't want to give them the opportunity to pass me early on. 12.4 miles of biking... it passes by so fast.

I focus on the course, hit a few bumps, and am happy that I don't have any rear-bottle cages. The bottles would be LONG gone. Instead, the drink sits comfortably on my down tube - accessible for a few sips during the race. But I don't drink yet. I know my heart rate is sky high - no heart rate monitor needed for that one. I give myself 5 or 6 minutes before my first sip.

The course seems to fly by. I'm in the heart of residential Encinitas, and suddenly I'm passing the Swami's beach on 101. I see the two girls in my age group ahead, and I make it my mission to pass them fast and hard - without giving them an opportunity to 1) register that I'm in their age group and 2) respond to my pass. Decisive! is the name of the game.

I hammer forward, keeping my breathing steady and silent. My race wheels are the only sound as I power by, keeping my head down and gripping my aero bars. I hurt, but I'm also ecstatic. This is what it's about: making peace with the pain, embracing the hurt, pushing through, and finding yourself during the hard times. There is a certain joy, an incredible happiness of my being when I focus on the road ahead, using my legs to power me forward.

I work hard to the turn around and realize that for the first time I'll have the chance to sneak a peak at the girls behind me. True to form, one of the girls I had pegged to be a threat was hot on my heels - maybe 15 second behind. But I wasn't so sure.

I keep my head down and work the slight uphill, recalling Palomar mountain and all the rides I've done that have just HURT. And I'm grateful for those rides - because as much as it is hurting me right now - I know that IF the girls behind me want to pass, they'll have to work that much harder. Because I'm not going down without a fight.

Because I'm not going down.

I spot another girl ahead and am confused - was there someone else in my wave?

No matter - I will do what I can to catch and pass. Another target ahead and I work hard while turning inland towards the city blocks leading back to transition. I come up to her and suddenly see the "P" on the back of her leg. I've just passed a pro on her second loop and now I'm a little bit in disbelief. She's just spinning it out - getting ready for what will surely be a fast run.

I thank the volunteers at the turn, loop around the block without seeing any of my competition, and take my turn at loop number two.

I blank out, instead focusing at high power, high turnover, and watching in amazement my miles per hour. Anytime it dips below 21, I try HARDER to get it back up. And I do - the legs respond. I find myself back on 101 passing a lot of people. The course looks really great, and I'm really happy to see little if no drafting. It IS possible to race clean - and that makes me happy.

I hit the turn and notice that I've got about a 20 second gap on the same girl. She's still there, still lurking. But she hasn't bridged up to me and that gives me confidence. I redouble my efforts and call her bluff. Maybe she's saving herself for the run?

Briefly, I worry about how my run legs will respond, but quickly push the thought aside. I need to GOGOGO! This is supposed to hurt, supposed to be hard. Sprints are FAST - all out on every discipline. And the person who can put together the best swim-bike-run will win. Plain and simple. SO it was her job to catch me. But I was going to make it as difficult as possible.

Rounding the final corners into the transition, I think about being FAST and speedy. Sprints can come down to seconds... and I don't want to loose anything. I slip my feet out of the shoes, soft pedal half a blog, dismount ITU-style at the line, and sprint in. My bike seat is slippery with sweat and I almost loose my bike in the bushes - but I hang on. I know exactly where my rack is, by the festive lei that is draped around the corner five rows in.

I toss the bike on the rack, happy to see that its empty. The bike is racked at a weird angle, but I don't have time to worry. The helmet is off - I must have thrown it on the ground. Running shoes are on and I scoop up my hat - filled with my glasses, race belt, and gel.

Before I know it, and before anyone else can join me, I'm running out as hard as I can. I stuff my gel - unopened - in my mouth while I throw on my hat and put my glasses over the top. They are wet anyway...but I think it looks cool. I'm still holding my race belt - I haven't had time to put it on.

Suddenly the water table is RIGHT THERE and I yell 'WATER' and say THANKS! as loud as I can. A few sips and I'm going. The legs don't feel great - but they are responding. I strap on my belt mid stride and now I'm on in earnest. Quick uphill, left turn, slight downhill, slight right, and then a LONG stretch to the turn around point 3/4 of a mile down the road. I know the girls are right behind me and I've got very little time...

I must go now, and it must be fast.

I focus ahead and just run. Turnover, legs, go, go, go. Push past - but I'm not in a lot of hurt. My legs don't feel particularily fast - they are just there. I keep pushing, take a sharp right up a steep hill to the turn around and run down.

At the bottom I see the girl who has been behind me the entire time, and I realize that the corner is the perfect time to drop her. I throw in my first 'surge', focusing on lengthening my stride while keeping my cadence the same. And it seems to work. I relax into my stride and by the time I hit the first mile, I fee like I've found my groove.

Before I know it, I'm rounding a few corners and I see Nathaniel. They're right behind me I yell. He says something, but I don't know what. He looks great, and I find myself in a very surreal moment. I'm running HARD and in a RACE and suddenly the love of my life is right there. I'm hurting and he looks so cool, calm, collected. Very odd.

I make the turn past the finish line and head out for the second loop. Before hitting the water stand, I toss my plastic cup towards the bin: I've been holding it for the first 1.5 miles - I don't want to litter on the course. I miss the shot, but grab a cup from the first volunteer. He can't be more than 12 and is SO EXCITED to have made the hand off. I yell THANKS! take a few sips, and toss my cup towards the final garbage bin and keep going.

I am determined to HURT for the second loop. I've finally found my stride and my legs have come around. It took 10 minutes...but they are here NOW! I am passed by a skinny, tall kid in a 2XU suit with the number 14 on his calf. He is half my age and kicking my ass in the run.

But NO! I won't let him! Without thinking, I hang on his shoulder, letting him pull me as fast as he can along the course. Its not easy and I can feel the effort in my lungs - but its a good feeling. It's the feeling of hard work, of leaving my competition behind, of going beyond the pain and into the euphoric bliss of a race-induced zone.

Yes, it hurts. But I am above it now, floating along but working hard, resolved to DO THIS THING. His tempo quickens as he sees a fellow age grouper and I struggle to stay with him. I will not let him pull ahead.

We hit the turn around and I'm anxious to see where the other girls in my age group are. I don't see any for a while - maybe a few blocks. There was a pass - a girl in an AVIA kit has passed the girl that was close behind me on the bike. She's looking strong - but I know that she's run out of room. I will not let her pass me with less than 3/4 mile to go. Not today. No way.

I stick to my guy and resolve to keep going FAST. There are other age groups that started behind me - and I know that the ladies in this area are really fast. I redouble my effort and resolve. A quick left and suddenly I hear my name.

Go Marit GO!

I girl in a San Diego Tri Club jersey calls my name while running the other way. I don't know who she is - but am touched by her cheer. I held back emotions as I made the final turn. 3 blocks to the finish - I can see the banner.

But there's also another girl in a pink top. I think she's probably on her first loop - but just to be sure I pick it up and surge past her with one block to go. You just never know...

And then the line. I hit it and stop - grateful to have finished. I hear the announcer call my name and say something about this being the third fastest female time of the day. But I know there are fast waves behind me and many people still to finish. The volunteer offers to take my chip - but I don't want her bending over my sweaty and gross legs/feet.

My shoes smell like death, so I do the honor of handing her my chip while thanking her. I see three kids handing out medals and take mine with thanks.

I am tired, but feel elated. The post-race euphoria that is indescribable... I am happy, emotional, and just, well - so grateful for the moment. My second race back, and I'm... happy.

I see Nathaniel and give him a hug...

Overall it was a great race. I had such a great time - racing, thanking the volunteers, and just being out there.

Later, I met Jen and Stacey - Stacey being the SDTC athlete who yelled my name on the course. They were so fun to chat with - both happy with their races. It was fun sharing our race experiences and learning a little about them. THANKS again to Stacey - you are awesome! And I'm happy that you had a great race.

Overall, I ended up feeling great about my race - I didn't get eaten by a shark, I kept my bottles on the bike, and I managed to (almost) hang on the shoulder of a young lad half my age during the run. A great solid effort that reminds me of all the GREAT things about this sport. In the end, I finished 3rd overall - a pleasant surprise. The award? A GREAT watercolor of Encinitas and a beer glass that says "I AM FAST" across the top.

Fill it with beer, and I'll show you how fast! :)

Thanks to everyone for a great race and a super day. It was wonderful meeting so many volunteers and athletes alike. And yes - for those inquiring minds - we DID get donuts afterwords. But that deserves a post all by itself.

Congratulations to everyone racing this past weekend AND to the loved ones who support us in this crazy sport.