Jenn’s Pacific Crest Vision Quest
A Solo Triathlon Adventure!
Why Pacific Crest?
Well, the date, June 26th, was almost exactly two months before Ironman Canada (IMC) coming up fast on August 29th. Two months was deemed by many experts to be about the right amount of time between a Half Ironman and a Full Ironman to reap the most benefit without accumulating too much fatigue. The course was almost a mini-Ironman Canada with a biggish (over 2,000 feet) climb on the bike and relatively flat run. And the venue was in “nearby” Sunriver, Oregon. So sometime in late spring and without much further research I hit “submit” on the registration form and was officially committed. And who doesn’t love a little road trip? Plus the race was in Oregon, so it would be close, right? And it was an entire festival of distances including a marathon, half-marathon, Olympic distance triathlon, kids’ race and a 5K, so lots of people I knew would be there, right? Um no. Let the Vision Quest begin.
*** It Doesn't Look Like 365 Miles on the Map... ***
Flying Solo
I’d be travelling to the race solo or “unsupported” as they say, which didn’t seem like too big a deal at first. I mean really, how hard could it be to get from the finish line back to the start line by myself? My bike slid right into the cab of our truck and I could sleep in the bed comfortably. My husband Mark had been designated the stay-at-home kitty sitter for several reasons. Mostly we wanted to save his vacation time that would have been required for the Friday drive down (I have lots, him not-so-much) and I wanted to ensure he showed up at IMC without the dreaded Gear Bitch Burnout.
The Finish Line is Where?
My first hint that this might be a bigger deal than I had thought was when fellow Pacific Crester Josh mentioned that the start and the finish weren’t in the same place. Say wha? Hmmm, further inspection of the course maps indicated that the swim start at Wickiup Reservoir was about 25 miles from the run finish in Sunriver . Now that would have been fine and dandy except for resourceful me had decided to camp at the campground at Wickiup, rather than pay bookoo bucks to stay in Sunriver with the rest of the triathletes. So they’d be bussed as part of the official race protocol to the race start on the morning of the race. All I’d have to do is wake up and roll my bike through the campground. Smart, right?!? Except for when I finished, they’d be walking to their schwanky resort rooms and I’d be 25 miles from our truck with a bike and all the gear (including the soaking wet wetsuit) they’d kindly bussed BACK to the Sunriver finish from the Wickiup start. So, my options were to either reconsider my accommodation arrangements with less than two weeks to go or ride my bike back to the start after the race.
*** Bike Course, Note to Self: Start Not at Finish! ***
It’s All Part of the Plan
What to do, what to do? I took a look at my training plan and saw that the plan called for me to ride 75 miles hardish that Saturday followed by 8 miles easyish ride on Sunday. So, I rationalized, it made sense for me to ride back to the start after the race because 56.1 + 25 = 81.1 and I’d be just slightly above plan on Saturday. Then I’d bomb back home and attend the 555 Quadathlon (run, bike, swim drink) hosted by our friend Denise on Sunday and simply partake in the 12 mile bike portion putting me slightly above plan again. So really, this was all in the plan…. truly! Mark started to worry, Annette offered several times to go with me and forgo her Seattle-to-Portland bike training with Christine and Heidi. Several other friends first deemed me crazy, then offered to call me every hour to ensure I’d stay awake on the ride home. No, no, no, I insisted. I’d be fine and this was all part of the plan anyway, really!
Rollin’
Friday morning came soon enough and I headed out early. I’d packed everything the night before and Mark had set up the air mattress in the back of the truck. Plush accommodations, indeed! Well, to make a long story short, Sunriver, Oregon isn’t really that close. It looks close on a map, but if you add up 365 total miles (of which about 110 is a twisty windy mountain pass) to an accident on I-5 on the bridge in Portland, assorted potty breaks, a truck that can really only do 75 and a girl that gets motion sick and you have an eight hour drive. Oh well, I made it with plenty of daylight to spare.
*** Shwanky Accomodations! ***
Lay of the Land
That Friday afternoon in Sunriver I picked up my registration packet and checked out the out the race expo. There I scored the perfect accessory: a tri-top in blue, white and green. The key to the color scheme is that it would tie my blue and white bike with my green and white shoes. Oh how those perfectly fitting but clashing colored shoes had irritated me… they did not match my bike at ALL!
*** Race Expo Score ***
I then drove to Wickiup Reservoir and checked in at the campground. With plenty of daylight to spare I decided to drive the bike course. This took a lot longer than it should because every time I was sure the view couldn’t get any better and I’d stop to take a picture, around the corner there would be an even more gorgeous view. There was still snow on the sides of the road. Oh my, this was gonna be fun! Or at least pretty…
*** Bike View #1 of #10,000 ***
Ready to Race
Saturday morning came quickly on a great night’s sleep in the peaceful campground. I rolled through the campground to the swim start and racked my bike amidst the bustling of hundreds of triathletes getting ready for the start. Checking out the racks in T1 it was clear this was certainly not an amateur event. Lots of bling bling this, carbon fiber that, gadgets, and high caliber athletes! There would be about 350 participants in the Half Ironman but just 25% of them were women so there was a fair amount of testosterone swinging around as well. I said hello to Josh and his wife Eryn who was dutifully taking pictures and supporting Josh while wrangling two small children. Yes, moms are amazing. She even helped me out with sunscreen when I discovered my cute new top had a big keyhole in the back I couldn’t reach. Thanks Eryn!
It’s in the Sixties, Really
I had recently tested the Lake Washington waters at an uncomfortably cold 59 degrees and was wary of the lake temperature sign that read both 57 AND 62. Either way, I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to catch my breath. I donned my neoprene cap in hopes it would stave off some of the brain freeze (even more uncomfortable from the outside in, trust me) and soon enough we were off on the swim. I did struggle to settle into a rhythm but was relieved to find I could breathe fairly well. Seeing anything through perma-fogged goggles was another matter…. I guess when the water is that cold and your face is that warm no amount of anti-fog goo (spit) can overcome physics. I found myself rounding the final buoy a little disappointed I still hadn’t gotten my groove on but I gave it a good effort to the carpeted (red, no less!) exit ramp and finished a respectable fifth in my age group in 0:35:41.
*** Lake Temperature… Nippy Either Way! ***
Well Hello Again!
I had been reading a lot about race execution and knew that the key was to go reallllllyyyy slow for the first half of the bike and then pick it up for the second half. Apparently a lot of folks end up walking the marathon in their Ironman because they go too hard on the bike and I’m hoping not to. I planned on using this race to test that theory with heart rate target zones that were fairly low for the first half of the race and higher for the second half. I also gave myself permission to let it all hang out if I felt great for the last five miles. So I tucked my ego far, far away and set out on the bike going reallllyyy slow. The bike profile was pretty straightforward: Up for the first half and down for the second. I struggled to keep my heart rate down for the first thirty minutes but after that I was able to hit my targets. And, as promised by those race execution gurus, I got passed A LOT as we made our way around and partially up the side of Mt. Bachelor. At the half way point I let my heart rate come up and waited expectantly for something profound to happen. Nope, nothing profound and we were still climbing, but at least I was no longer getting passed. Then, once we reached the summit, something miraculous did happen: I started doing the passing. Zip, zip, zip, I smugly passed riders one by one that had dusted me earlier. I kept my head down and my heart rate up and reeled in dozens by the time we reached the flats into Sunriver. Guys did double takes as I flew down the mountain with speeds as high as 45 miles per hour. In analyzing the data off my Garmin I see that in one late (read downhill) thirty minute interval I averaged almost 30 miles an hour. And lo and behold, I did have some left in the tank to really push the last five miles even harder. I didn’t reel all those folks back in but it felt pretty darn good to execute according to plan and I rolled into T2 optimistic for a solid run and ninth in my age group with a time of 3:14:07.
*** Bike Elevation Profile in Green, Speed in Blue ***
*** Zoom! ***
Chugging Along
I set off on the run with a ten minute per mile target. This was the same target I had at the Grand Columbian in September of 2009, my only other Half Ironman race. There I had fallen well short of my goal after going, you call it, too hard on the bike. We had had nary a sunny day in the Pacific Northwest for all my 2010 training thus far and at Pacific Crest I found myself suddenly in 85-degree heat slogging out a half marathon. For whatever reason, though, I didn’t find it too hard. Right off the bat I hit my target and maintained that without incident for the first six or seven miles (more on that later.) Sweat poured down and I gamely countered with full cups of ice tossed down my (new and cute!) top at each mile’s aid station. By the next aid station it would have melted and so I’d toss down another cup. Then at about the half way mark I started to struggle with GI issues (it's later.) Bleh, I lost about three minutes, thirty seconds in port-a-potties for the balance of the run. Mental note: Get this figured out by IMC! In any event, I managed to maintain my pace (when running) but I couldn’t really muster anything much faster to make up the time lost. So I finished (upright AND smiling) knowing I hit my pace goal. Sure, the clock showed me about three minutes too slow at 2:13:41 but I’d have to settle for a personal victory on that one, if not on paper. Total time was 6:11:43 and eighth in my age group. Not too shabby for a shake out race!
*** Trying to “Bring It” after Six Hours of Racing ****
Regroup
Post race I had a chance to catch up with Josh who had a super-solid race. He felt he struggled a bit on the run and attributed it to the altitude. Altitude? Another thing I hadn’t considered. Turns out Sunriver is at 4,150 feet, not to mention the 2,000+ feet of climbing. Oh well, another hurdle unknowingly accomplished. I collected my gear (including that soaking wet wetsuit) and set off for a long evening ride back to Wickiup Reservoir. An hour forty-five minutes and 25 miles later I was back at the truck packing up. I took a quick “shower” in the lake and set off home at about 7:45 PM. A long drive and MANY phone calls later (thank you everyone!) I walked in the door at about 2:30 AM. Mark and Supervisor Toby had waited up with the help of a “B” movie marathon. They hit the sack shortly thereafter, their mission accomplished.
*** The Cervelo is Ready to Head Home ***
*** Mark and Toby Three Minutes After I Got Home ***
Lessons Learned
* A bit more research on new venues is always a good idea before you commit to a race. Take start and finish locations, for instance. Or perhaps the amount of driving required and maybe even take a look at the altitude!
* That being said, Pacific Crest is a GEORGOUS setting and this festival could easily be turned into a weeklong vacation for a family where there is something for everyone.
* Race execution plan executed!
