My Wildflower Triathlon Experience: A Short Story about The Long Course
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I’ll start this story telling with a notice that I am new to sport, new from the eyes of those who realize that mastery or even elementary knowledge of greatness in an endeavor such as sport, takes years or a lifetime.
Last season, on May 17th, is when I rented my first wetsuit, which was one of the final steps to me becoming a legitimate triathlete. I wrote a post about my first triathlon, an Olympic distance. If you check that out, you’ll have a more welcoming understanding of the story I am about to tell you, the story of my effort to complete my first half Ironman at the iconic Wildflower Experience Long Course (and music festival).
**And, spoiler alert: I DNF’d. Yet, it is still a story of triumph.**
Definitions
First, please allow me to share with you some key definitions.
Electrolytes: the “things” we (athletes) put in our water (or ingest in some other way), to help replenish what is lost by sweating. I use Skratch Labs, a popular brand with popular (and, seemingly rad) Founders.
DNF: “Did Not Finish” a race
Triathlon: a race by which one swims, bikes and then runs, back to back. Ending in running through a finish line. Olympic distance is a .93 mile swim, 24.8mi bike and 6.2 mile run. Half Ironman (70.3) distance is a 1.2 mile swim, 58 mile bike and 13.1 mile run.
Fuel: What nutrition and hydration you are taking in. A key part of enabling the human body to be able to perform endurance sport.
The Story
As legend has it, last season, I completed two Olympic level triathlons. The first one I completed was the Santa Cruz Tri and the second one was the Marin County Tri. When I started triathlon, I was not a cyclist nor a swimmer. My background in sport consisted of having a mountain bike as a kid, swimming in the local pool a ton for fun (think doing handstands and running and jumping into the water), and picking up casual jogging/running (#pdluvstorun) in ~2009. I’ve never been on a sports team, and prior to last year, never had a coach. Flip turns were new to me, zones, perceived effort, and maybe the biggest thing, doing more than 40 minutes of “as I pleased” aerobic activity, were all firsts.
The Race Report
A race report is what serious racers write after they race. It helps others learn from them, and helps them learn from the journey of the race. Offers them and others data points so as to use them to improve. A fellow Golden Gate Triathlon Club member, someone who welcomed me into triathlon early last year, Brenda Bettencourt, mentioned she was writing one for one of her races, and I never forgot that — so I thought I’d write one for you.
Wildflower Long
I had originally intended to race Wildflower Olympic because Coach Mikey O. of Purple Patch Fitness said it was one of his favorite races, namely due to the music festival element it has. But, when I went to sign up, I saw that the big party was on Saturday night and the OLY (Olympic) I was planning on racing was on Sunday. Because I am a light sleeper, I started thinking how I could race on Saturday instead of Sunday, so I could chill at the party on Saturday night. Wildflower Long was the Saturday race, and the only choice I had if that was what I wanted.
Wildflower Long is known to be a “tough course,” or as The Hungry Athlete put it: “The Wildflower Long Course is one of the most beautiful and one of the most difficult 70.3 half Ironman (HIM) distances around. Not only is it hilly, it can also be very hot with windy conditions.” I thought and I thought, and I became enamored with the idea of understanding what training goes into a half, and if I could even accomplish a half. The reality that this course was hard didn’t really matter to me because Life is hard, and I still do Life. So, then I had to find a coach.
My Coach
As my post about my first Olympic triathlon stated, I have a great coach, John Dahlz, in my life. He’s amazing. He’s fun. He brought me through my first Olympic distance triathlon, and I have amazing memories about that journey. But, a half Ironman requires different training an Olympic, so I needed someone else. And, I did know from my first coaching experience, that for me? Coaching and endurance sport feels like a very vulnerable space, and it requires massive amounts of trust in the relationship. My coach will see me when I’m learning many hard things about myself, dealing with many deep issues, picking my confidence up off the ground to find a way to engage in the work. My coach will have to school me in a way that you don’t let just anyone do. It’s a real relationship. And, I had to learn that.
Finding my Coach for Wildflower
On 12/28/2017, I did one of my Kung Fu Patricia moves of showing up to a cycling ride which was way above my skill level, but totally aligned with my enthusiasm level. I found myself surrounded by legit racers and other top of the line riders. I was unable to ride with these high energy people, but I was able to ride to the donut shop where they were going to end their long and tenacious ride.
At Johnny’s Donuts, that fated day, I was telling a rider the story of my desire to race Wildflower long, but that I was in discovery mode for a Coach. Long story short, I found a very skilled cyclist and runner who offered to coach me for my triathlon. To keep a long story not as long, I will say that he had a hell of a time tearing down the house of the limited person I thought I was, and helped me learn important lessons about personal psychology, knowing myself, being willing to work hard (very hard), being willing to enjoy the work and, of course, he gave me four solid months of some of the most challenging, most rewarding and intense training sessions I’ve ever encountered.
Why Did I DNF?
During the latter days of training, my Coach and I texted about my hydration and fueling plan. I knew the race would be hot (> 85 degrees), hilly and hard core. So, my plan was to add a small amount of extra electrolytes to my water, have plenty of Stinger gels (sugary goo that is your fuel) on me. When I told him that, he said that plan sounded good. What I didn’t tell him was that I was going to add liquid carbs into my water bottle as well. A LOT OF LIQUID CARBS and a lot of extra electrolytes. I did not really intend to absent-mindedly get creative with my hydration plan at the 11th hour. Yet, nonetheless, I did.
The problem with that conversation with my Coach, and with my tricking out my water against our agreed plan, is that my brain forgot that hydration and fuel is, literally, the (most) key component to endurance athleticism. So, I went to the campsite on race day weekend and the night before the race, prepared two water bottles with mountains of electrolytes and liquid carbs in them.
Race Day
I woke at 4:30a to fuel and ready myself for the race, which had its start at 8a, when the pros would launch. My wave was at 8:40a. I ate some white rice. Had a little coffee. Drank some water with a little electrolyte in it. Brought my bike and all my race gear to transition. And, then…raced.
Swim
That swim was hard. I’m a slow swimmer (and, believe I am because I keep saying it) and as this is my third race, I can say that I truthfully believe that there is a HUGE energy mass surrounding all of those racing within the start of a triathlon. It’s intense, a hundred people run into the water together and start flapping their arms and legs…some pulling on your feet, some just trying to see the buoy line and get to the finish like a water snake. I’m pretty methodical. I keep sighting, I keep breathing — but I’ve noticed now, three for three, I always feel like there is a huge force working (mostly) against me and not a lot of wind at my back. I’m not sure if that is my fitness level or nerves which make me feel this way, but this swim I felt it quite strong. But, unlike the emotions I had at the beginning of the ocean swim at Santa Cruz, I knew that I wasn’t stopping for any reason. I didn’t care what I felt like. And, so I swam and swam and eventually climbed out the water. When you get out of the water, you need to run up a very steep gradient to your transition station, as shown in the image to the left, to get to your bike, fuel and gear.
I ran up the hill and suited up for my ride. I pulled out of a small cooler, two frozen bottles of syrupy, electrolyte-y, liquid carbohydrate-y, non-Coach approved water, and put them on my bike. I shoved a small rice date ball in my mouth and got a move on. Almost the entire bike ride is up hill. And, they say hydrate early, so I started sipping my goo as soon as I was feeling comfortable with my pedal stroke and being on the road. Shortly after starting the bike portion and taking in “water,” I noticed a small cramping in my stomach, which went away about 30 minutes later.
At mile 7 on the ride, I heard a “PSST!,” the sound of an unwelcome flat tire. At this point, it was likely 82 degrees out, it felt like more but I’m not sure. So, I get off my bike and get to changing my tire.
Changing your tire in the middle of a hot day out in the middle of nowhere feels spiritual, like a burning bush should be somewhere, a tablet and the Voice of God.
People who rode by me were conflicted because they know that during a race, it’s each one for themselves. Yet, they wanted to help.
I changed my flat in about 14 minutes which is shameful, compared to how fast I had practiced to do it last year. But, I did it. Got back on the bike and realized that my water issue was a real one. I stopped again at the next water station and poured out half of a bottle and added pure water. That wasn’t enough — it was still way over kill with liquid carbs and electrolytes. About an hour later, I poured out almost all of both bottles and added ONLY water. And, at 80% of the water stations, I poured a full bottle of water over my head and onto my race kit. Which, was a move I’d make if I race it next year or at any hot race.
Was it nerves which made me veer from the plan of “an extra scoop of Skratch?” Self-sabotage? I do not know.
Nasty Grade at Mile 40
Here is where we get to when I transitioned from the woman who was going to complete Wildflower Full to the woman who completed the bike portion, sat down for a moment at her transition area, then sullenly, picked up her stuff and then let a tear fall behind the metal shield of the RV she was staying in.
Nasty Grade is the “big thing” at Wildflower Full. It’s one of the hardest and most educational things I’ve ever done in my life. Nasty Grade is “a nearly five mile grade which climbs 1,000 feet (300 m) from bottom to top of “Heart Rate Hill.”
By the time I got to this climb, I was feeling pretty hot, not awesome, but I didn’t know that I was going to DNF. That wasn’t even in my head. I did notice I was very hot and knew that hydration was critical and I was really listening to my body for safety. My feet were feeling hot, not like hot from the sun, but the bottom of them felt a slight burning sensation. But, I didn’t worry much about it.
As the climb started under me, I, for the first time, was getting to an edge I’d never met yet. It was getting hard. Because of my slow flat tire change and my inefficiencies of course correcting the hydration in my water bottles, plus, I’m assuming, allowing the challenge to slow me down psychologically, by the time I reached the harder part of the grade, there were people walking the hill. The fallen soldiers. And, I was unsure if I could complete the hill without walking.
This is also when I realized that a DNF may be in my future.
My feet started burning like fire. And, I could see the top of the hill. That was when I remembered so many hard workouts I had done during training, and my Coach. And, I said to myself, “If there is ONE thing I do, I am climbing this *&!$* hill.” I still cannot believe I was able to. It felt like there was no way that I could, but I did. As I told my friend, I even groaned going up that hill, “and the trees shook and the wind blew,” I told her. It was VERY HARD.
The thing about Nasty Grade though, is that it’s a very clever and and mean lover. You get to the “top” and feel like the celebration should begin, only to round a corner for literally 10+ more miles of a constant incline with a few descents, aka “rollers.”
It was during the last 10 miles that I decided to NOT STOP. Everything felt impossible. But, for me, a stop is the sign of total defeat. I did hydrate at each station and at around Mile 52 or so, I surrendered to the idea that I would be okay with a DNF, because when I stopped for that 10 second water sip, and then got back to cranking on my bike, I was dizzy for a moment. And, I felt dizzy was a sign to be careful.
The ride from that water stop to my transition mat, ~6 miles away, was the longest, agony-filled ride. I had two REALLY rough long, solo rides during my winter training which educated me for this a bit, but I’d never had a scorching hot, “Where the hell am I, and what have I done?,” type ride.
Eventually, I ended up making it back to home base and as I went through the “Ride In,” area to my transition mat, the volunteer (Thanks, Cal Poly volunteers!) says to me, “You’re welcome to still run, but we won’t have volunteers out there anymore.” And, that was when my morale to lace up and even try a few steps disappeared.
I found my way to my transition area, hung my bike, sat down. Listened to the famed Julie Moss (image pictured to the left), just a few hundred feet away, calling off finisher’s names over the loud speaker, and admitted my defeat. I felt like she was watching me, saying, “At least put on your runnies and try!” but I didn’t. I picked up my stuff, went to my RV and processed, at least to the level I could then, what journey I had just encountered on. Not just Wildflower, but my journey from the day I decided to give triathlon a try, which is technically April 19, 2017.
It was just yesterday, actually, when I really processed the understanding of all the hard work I had done, processed that I did not finish the goal I had worked so hard for. And, had a moment of understanding it all.
Overall though? I learned more from racing a very tough first Half Ironman and DNF’ing, I believe, than I would have learned from racing an easier, flat course and crushing it.
What’s next?
I’ve heard many women who’ve had children say that when they were giving birth, they were like, “I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN.” But, the second they see the baby, they are like, “I want another one.” As I walked back to my RV, in the midst of my humbled self, I was already thinking about what I’d do differently, and how I can rewrite the ending on the next one.
That’s when I said to myself: “Uh oh. I am one of them.”
One of them. Those that feel most comfortable enduring. It’s not the pain that is the radical part. It’s that it is truly a journey of learning who I am inside. The only way to conquer challenge is to get to know the inner voice and establish a relationship with it, that enables you to conquer. That’s what endurance sport gives to me: a relationship with myself, and with so many others. People I would have never been able to connect with if I haven’t gone on this journey. And, one more thing: Endurance sport is HUMBLING. #behumble
2018 Triathlon Season
This season is very much TBD. I hope to race an Olympic mid-season, and a more “reasonable” 70.3 at the end of the season, but this is a cliff hanger because I have many dependencies and shifting preferences, so please stay tuned.
If you’re interested in trying out triathlon, check out Golden Gate Tri Club. They are global, really reasonably priced, and offer a lot of educational opportunities. And, as a woman in triathlon, check out Women for Tri and be inspired by Moira Horan (Board member).
As always, interested in your journey and your questions so don’t hestiate to leave a comment!
Thanks for your time.
Patricia
