Wildflower 2005 Race Report
In the spirit of the New2tri coming up, this race report is for all you BOPers and aspiring MOPers (me). You know- the people who have not actually swam the whole swim freestyle or have been known to coast now and then on the bike. You fast people can just read about how the rest of us live back there in the pack.
First let me start with what I loved about my first trip to wildflower. Let's see- the weather was great- low 70s, slight cloud cover, mild wind. UMMMM-ok the water was not cold and glassy smooth. UMMM- the camping was good. UMMM-- I think that's about it.
Cary arrived the night before with our new team uniform. The shorts are great. But when Steve Caswell could barely get the top on or off I knew there was no hope for me. The top is great if a) I don't zip it up b) I don't breathe c) I remove my breasts. I went for the wear last years top option. After a rousing pep talk by Lydia about pushing it when I get the chance on the flats during the bike and using my arms to pump up the hills on the run ( this should have been a huge warning sign) I drifted off to sleep in my nice cold tent.
After my usual pre-race breakfast which I don't usually eat in the freezing a__ cold, I was off to the races. ‘ My wave was second to last which meant waiting for 1hr 25 min after the start of the race. Fifteen minutes after our wave was the start of the mountain bike race, a fact which should have aroused more alarm than it did at the time. I was determined not to wimp out on the swim and set a goal of 45 minutes ( you may laugh but this would be a huge improvement for me) . So I positioned myself to the left and not completely in the back. When the gun went off everyone shot past me in 10 seconds and there I was, alone again. It took about 10 minutes to remember how to swim in a wet suit- don't forget to roll, roll, roll, elbow up up up, power from the hips hips hips, and then the relay wave swam over me like a pod of dolphins. They were very polite, no one whacked me and their pink caps were a lot easier to see than the orange buoys. I was finally feeling good, right on target with my pace, spotted the balloons for the exit and WHAM ran right into a wall of white capped mountain bikers. I don't know what these people were doing but it wasn't swimming. More like a cross between dog paddle and meandering about. It was impossible to get around them and there were so many of them you couldn't get through. I was swearing under my breath as they thwarted my reaching my swim goal.
I stumbled out of the water and up the long boat ramp to the transition area. I tried Chad, I really tried to stomp out of my wet suit but the world was spinning so hard I was worried I would fall over and break an elbow so I had to sit down for a minute. It soon passed, I quickly got my gear on, grabbed the bike, ran a long ways through a throng of mountain bikers to the bike exit, mounted and WHAM ran right into a wall of 20 something female mountain bikers. There are a series of tiny little steep hills in the first half mile and they didn't seem to have a clue. Not only were they mostly in the wrong gear but they were apparently unaware that there were other people on the course. They were weaving about all over the road and on one hill when they ran into a long course rider and knocked her over they all stopped at the top of the hill to look at her. I made it through unscathed only by pushing them out of the way. Thankfully they left our course at 1 mile and we were off. The first few hills were ok, short, not steep. But gradually it occurred to me that there wasn't much but hills. Up up up down up up down up down down up up up.
I must ¨ have missed the lecture in physics refuting the what goes up must come down part because we never seemed to come down enough. For those of you who have ridden the wooden valley loop clockwise (foxy's direction) the hills were like that long climb after the lunch stop- over and over and over again. There was a short mile or two at about mile 15 where you could drop into your bars and spin and a longer section from mile 26 to 34 but otherwise it was just one long climb after another- it got kind of demoralizing after a while. My go to song was David Bowie's Suffragette City- which quickly became Suffer city (Lean on me man cause you ain't got time to check out- out of Suffer city). (By the way- you never want to listen to children's songs just before a race- you don't know the definition of hell until your song for a long race is Soyuna Pizza.)
Because I was practically the last one out of the water I was able to pass a million people so that helped. My mission was to pass everyone I could find with a camelback, and I loved passing people with Zipp wheels. Nasty grade at mile 42 was like a 2 1/4 last stretch of Cantelow and at the top there wasn't even a down hill- just another mile or so of more of climbing (of course- why not) . The downhill that finally came was great- a 6%grade on which I achieved 43 MPH (white knuckling it the whole time sure I was going to die on the only fun stretch of the whole freaking bike course- but I didn't touch those brakes). Of course we had only 14 million (give or take) more climbs before the end of the ride but the last mile was another great steep swoop into the finish ( more on that later).
My run transition was better and after fisihing a rock out of my sock off I went. The first mile of the run is the same as the bike so I knew what to expect. I kept my feet quick up the hills ( I guess there is a point to all that jump roping) and started to feel better until mile 2 and guess what- more hills. Hills, endless hills. Hills as far as the eye could see. Hills where you couldn't see the top. The hill at mile 4 is where the race broke me. First- there was no naked aid station this year. What's with that? And the hill at mile 4 is one endless steep trail snaking into the sky. People were walking it faster than I could run. I would have just rolled over like a dog on the side of the road and cried uncle but there were too many people already over there whimpering and there was no room. I remembered there was something I was supposed to do with my arms but I couldn't really remember what.
I, and many many many of my compatriots stumbled to the top of the hill , walked jogged 25 feet and , what's this? , another hill. They just never seemed to end. At that point it seemed less like a race to me and more of a how much can I endure event. (Well I guess that is what triathlon is about but at some point during a race I actually like to run- call me crazy). Somewhere in the blur of the next few miles a lot of crazy people surfaced- the really small guy who ran the whole thing with a backpack and hiking boots, the 59 yr old running with a really tiny speedo who would spurt past me, then walk a really long time and spurt past me again- I got sick of seeing that speedo. Finally at the top of hill 5900 some lady told us it was all down hill from here. Remember that „steep swooping last mile on the bike- well that was our last mile on the run too. Down hill is an interesting way to put it- more like knee wrenching, bone jarring, get the ropes out and repel down hill. A large contingent just said F- it, my knees aren't worth this- I'm walking, but the rest of us just wanted to be done so down we went- barreling down to the finish. Hey at least the finish chute was flat. I was thrilled to finish in 6:40 and almost made it to the top 50% in my age group- missed it by 4.
Oh yeah- soaking my legs in the lake afterward was a good part of Wildflower, and I guess it was educational to ride a hilly course- and hey- what doesn't kill us makes us stronger right? Yeah right. I'm still eating my way through a huge burrito craving (amy) and my daughter is actually letting me sleep so I guess something good did come of it. Now- time to get back at it.