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| "Traditional" customization of the race shirt. |
Here's the (really) long-form race report. I've added a few headings so you can scroll down to the actual race report if you just want to read about the pain. Remember two things--you aren't required to read this and you paid nothing for it. (You get what you pay for...)
Saturday
Saturday was a busy day--kids' sports, brunch with an old friend, packing/prep for the race, just trying to rest and stay out of the sun. Horsetooth was my only "A" race of the season and I was serious about hitting it hard. As I pulled out of the driveway at 4pm to head up to Fort Collins for the pre-race meeting/dinner, I managed to relax. I was in the "funnel" that would draw me to the event without too many distractions.
Arrived at my friends Sandy and Dean's house just after 5pm. (Dean was my paddler--each swimmer goes with an escort, primarily for safety reasons.) and we relaxed and chatted for a while before leaving at 5:45 for the dinner (which was to start at 6). Just as we're leaving, I get a text from my friend (and fellow competitor) Jenny letting me know I'm late. (I know it's trouble when she calls me "mister.") Apparently they had changed the start of the event and I was working off an old email. We were probably the last to arrive, but worked out fine--the mandatory meeting portion of the evening began about 3 minutes after we walked in. Let's just call that perfect timing.
The meeting was longer (and more boring) than necessary, but it's part of the ritual and I was content just to be sitting down and immersing myself in the race. Afterwards, Sandy, Dean, and I stopped for some sandwiches (not a good sign when you're hungry an hour after dinner) and drove up to the start area. The race went from south to north last year but was turned around to go north to south this year so this was a valuable perspective that I hadn't seen before. We noticed right away that the contour of the start inlet and the shoreline beyond led to an obvious strategy. Once we got around that first point, the straight line route would take us out toward the middle of the reservoir as the concave shoreline didn't come back out to the next point for what looked like about 4 miles. Dean was very comfortable taking me along that straight line--definitely the shortest distance.
Back to the house where we watched home movies for a bit, then in bed a little after 10. Sound asleep by 10:30.
Sunday (Pre-Race)
Awake at 1:00am. Dang! Listened to some boring podcasts, tossed and turned, suffered with my thoughts of not sleeping. Finally dozed off again a little before 3am and then had the classic "missed the race start" dream. Alarm woke me up at my usual 4:44am. Haven't had that restless pre-race sleep in a long time. I took it as a good sign--this was a big event for me and my brain was clearly working on it.
Ate my usual oatmeal breakfast and we were off to the start, arriving a few minutes ahead of schedule. The air was already warming up and temps were very comfortable. Got the boats unloaded, got body-marked, hung out with Jenny and family, pre-race instructions, got our paddlers in the water, then went for a short warm-up. The water felt great--official temp was 72 degrees. This is a non-wetsuit swim and the reservoir can be in the mid-60s this time of year. We had been tracking it and were expecting a nice temp but actually getting into the water and feeling it was a relief.
I swam a few hundred meters and did a couple of pickups then lined up at the start. Traded a few good words and high fives with friends, and cleared my head. Ready and relaxed. With 30 seconds to the start, I looked over to notice that the majority of the field was on the south side of the little dock. We'd been told to be on the north side but the lines were better from the other side. Too late to move. We were off.
The Race
As soon as we started, I could see the line of faster swimmers begin to extend out to my right. It's a long race that I wasn't likely to win so it didn't really make much difference in the long run, but I was unhappy. I expected to be near the front of the race and this was a disadvantage. But I settled my brain and kept an eye out for their direction as I sighted for the line of paddlers at the first point (less than 1k out).
The paddler meet-up is a crazy thing when it goes as planned; mayhem when it doesn't. We had mayhem.
The paddlers line up their boats side by side in two lines (facing each other). Paddlers with faster swimmers line up at the far end, slow swimmers at the near end. Swimmers are supposed to swim down the middle lane created by the boats and the paddlers call out numbers as we pass through. Theoretically, by the time the faster swimmers reach the end of the lane, their paddlers just peel off the end and move out along with them. Great plan! (On paper...)
The paddlers lined up way too far out from the point and the lead swimmers smartly didn't bother going out the extra distance to the meet-up lane. The entire race passed by well behind both lines of paddlers. I was out about as far as anyone but never got close to the paddler lane--they were just too far out. I definitely should have made a bee-line for the point from the start had I anticipated how this would go down. Cost me a little time and distance, but there was nothing I could do about it but hope Dean would eventually find me.
As I mentioned, it was mayhem. Paddlers and swimmers everywhere. The paddlers were too dispersed to hear each other calling out numbers so they were just moving up and down the slowly spreading out line of swimmers. I decided just to go with the flow and hope I'd be found before my first planned feeding at 30 minutes. I spotted Dean up ahead before he found me, but didn't bother taking the time to stop and try to get his attention. I figured I'd keep an eye on him to make sure he was moving with the group and we'd hook up eventually. He was looking for me in the lead group but because I took the bad line out there, I was further back than expected.
We eventually hooked up about 5 minutes before my first feed and all was good. He immediately sighted the far point and began paddling a perfect line. When I stopped to drink, we talked for a moment and I made sure to take in the right amount. (This was a problem for me last year--my stops were too infrequent and I took in too little at each one. Bonking at 8k sucks. You can't exactly walk it in...)
My plan was simple: swim strong for the first hour, build to my max maintainable speed during the second hour, and then hold it for the last 30 minutes to the finish. Feedings (all Infinit drink) at 30 minutes then every 20 minutes thereafter. The feeding schedule would also help me keep track of time since I don't race with a watch.
There's not much to report for the next few miles. Dean did an excellent job tracking in a straight line. I drifted to my left a bit a times (I sometimes have this problem), but only had to sight ahead in order to get my bearings or keep an eye on the competition. I'd go 100 or more strokes between sightings. At one point I went about 500 strokes. I sang songs, counted my strokes, and generally tried to keep my mind off what I was asking of my body.
At my 1:50 feeding, I was approaching what I estimated was my goal speed and I was definitely working very hard. I was nervous about this point in the race. Last year, I hit the wall shortly after 2 hours. It was miserable. My training and focus were much better this year and I was pretty confident, but the memories haunted me a bit.
There was a small group of swimmers who had been ahead of me following the shoreline instead of taking the more direct straight line Dean was piloting. We had come together now and I was just behind. Even though I thought I was at my max, I dug in and found a little more. It was risky--I didn't know whether I could hold this new, higher pace to the finish but I just had to go for it.
At the 2:10 feeding I was right alongside the last person I could pass. Took a short feed and got back to work, not losing too much distance in the process. My 2:30 goal seemed unlikely at this point, but I was focused on the present situation. I finally passed her after another 10 or so minutes of work and she was not going to give it to me easily. When Dean signaled for the 2:30 feed, I waved him off. I was only about 10 seconds ahead and the finish was in sight. Plus, I had been working so hard, my stomach was turning and I thought I was going to throw up. I didn't just think it, I expected it. To the point of considering what I'd eaten that morning in anticipation of how bad it would be. But somehow, I didn't.
The race is a straight shot--point-to-point down the reservoir--for 6 miles. We swam past the finish line and then u-turned back to get the last 0.2 miles in. As I approached the turnaround buoy, I began to worry what the twisting and change of direction might do to my body. Cramping up was a real possibility--I was at my limit in every sense--and would have been a major bummer with someone hot on my tail. I decided to take a couple of backstrokes as I went around to try to keep my body more aligned. It worked and I was headed for the finish--flat out at this point. If she could have passed me, she would have earned it.
The finish area was confusing and I was headed toward a buoy from an earlier race (not part of our race). We had seen a picture of what we were looking for at the dinner the night before, but it was taken from the shore--the opposite of what I was trying to look for. Dean started squeezing me in toward where I was supposed to go but at this point, very little oxygen was getting to my brain and I wasn't moving over. He finally moved ahead of me a little and turned the boat in front of me. I finally got the picture, made the adjustment and took the last few strokes around the dock and across the line.
Then, it got even rougher. I was exhausted, emotional, and a little dizzy. My muscles were throbbing and my head was foggy. I was completely drained and felt like crying. I stayed in the water for a minute or two to try to get my bearings. I saw Sandy cheering from the shore. Lindsey walked down to greet me. I have no idea what I said. A few strangers high-fived me or patted me on the back. It was a blur for the next several minutes but I eventually regained my senses.
2:40:15. 11 minutes faster than last year but about 10 minutes off my goal. (I set an audacious goal.) But that was as fast as I could have swum. Maybe I lost a minute or even two taking the bad line at the start of the race but that was it. I swam to the maximum of my current ability and it felt great. This was the hardest I've ever swum and I left everything I had out there--no regrets. That's the way to race and I'm really proud of my day!
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| Looking good! (pre-race) |
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