Hills or Quit: Rev3 Quassy
How I fared after a two-year hiatus from triathlon
There comes at least one point in every race where I seriously consider quitting. I think of quitting the race and giving up the sport altogether. In this regard, Rev3 Quassy was no different for me. I thought of quitting three times at Rev3—once during each leg of the race—despite following my race plan to the T.
I was so excited in the weeks, days, and hours leading up to the start horn, I’d forgotten entirely how miserable the experience can be. My only race thought for the swim was Swim hard. I did that, but probably too hard over the first 400 meters. I could hardly breathe by the time I reached the first buoy. Holy shit, I thought, I can’t do this for another half hour! I also got punched about forty times (probably) by flailing arms and legs of fellow athletes. I can’t speak for other age groups, but 40–44 year-old men swim like assholes who want the whole lake to themselves.
I also felt like quitting towards the end of the run. I planned to start patiently, hold my race pace until mile 10, then Run like hell. Like hell is right.
Mile 9 of the half marathon is basically like running up a blackboard:
It’s so steep I felt like I was running in place to keep from falling backward. It feels kind of like that scene from Titanic…
Not that one. More like this:
Beast of the East
It’s important to make this point about Quassy: the hills are a bitch. They are steep, numerous, and treacherous. There is so much climbing on this course, the joke is even the swim is uphill. Consider this perspective on the Rev3 bike course: though it’s half the distance of Ironman Wisconsin (the one I’ll be racing in September and which also has a hilly reputation), it has almost the same elevation gain at just short of 4000 feet. This means over the course of 56 miles of riding, athletes must also travel 3/4 of a mile up. Between miles 23 and 31 alone, there is a mostly continuous 800-foot climb. To put that in perspective, the New York Times last year devoted an entire article to its city’s skyscrapers towering 800 feet and above.
In short, that’s a shit ton of climbing.
The Quassy bike and run courses alike are challenges to even the best athletes. My goal for the second leg was to Bike smart. I had a power target and stuck to it when I could, but the severity of the hills forced me to hit spikes of 3- and 400 Watts. My quads ached, but that’s not why I wanted to quit.
Screwed
At mile 35, I entered a steep climb after a fast approach. Trying to maintain momentum, I quickly shifted from big to small ring.
Clunk! I’d dropped a chain. No worries—this has happened before. I quickly fixed the chain and hopped back on.
It sucks trying to clip in on an incline, especially during a race. I did this maneuver expertly, pressed down on the pedals, and… went nowhere. Except not quite nowhere. I couldn’t turn the pedals. The back wheel was stuck and I was falling sideways. I managed, somehow, to unclip on the side I was leaning; I caught myself at the last possible second.
For the second time, I was off my bike in the middle of the race.
Holy shit! My back wheel is stuck! I checked the chain I’d just reset. I inspected the crank. I checked the brake lever. I looked for debris. Meanwhile, my competition is flying past me. I tried turning the wheel harder and heard the squeaking of rubber on carbon. The tire was pressing into the frame. Somehow, the axle lock had come loose and the axle was no longer secured in the dropout. I’d gone over quite a few bumpy spots in the road by this point and if I hadn’t tightened the lock enough, it’s possible it had come loose. Dropping the chain meant it was no longer holding the wheel in place through pressure on the cassette. But still… why is the wheel not aligned? I’d just replaced the alignment screws a few months ago…
Damn. That screw is supposed to be straight.
There is no fixing or removing this screw during a race. What this meant was that I was going to have to align and secure my rear axle without the benefit of alignment screws.
Another rider passes by. Then another. “Hey buddy, you alright?” Gone.
I figured this could be done but if the axle were to come loose again on one of those fast downhills, I could be at risk of a serious accident. Let’s get it right this time, K?
What took three minutes felt like twenty. I tried and failed several times to set the axle straight. I’m never going to get this. More riders passed. I envisioned being the last one back to transition. I should quit now.
I lost track of the attempts, but at some point, I pushed the axle in place and my wheel was spinning. Holy shit! In seconds, I was riding again. I’d forgotten about giving up—until the run.
The Suck
Racing hurts and Quassy is no different—maybe it hurts just a little bit more. I’m not entirely sure how I kept going but I do know why: I thought of the pain I was feeling—in my lungs, in my legs, in my gut. Then I thought of what it would feel like to quit and it was far worse. Suck it up now or pay the price later.
I also thought of how grateful I am for the love and support of my family, for the good things that have happened in my life, and for this opportunity to challenge myself. (It’s an odd thing to have these thoughts while swimming, biking, and running your heart out.)
So I kept going.
Though I’ve completed nearly two dozen triathlons, it’s been over two years since my previous race. I had worried I might not deal with the race pain well, want to give up, or have some catastrophe with my bike. As it turns out, all three of those fears came true, but I was able to work through it. I’ve been reading Sheryl Sandberg’s Option B and she has taught me a thing or two about resilience:
You are not born with a fixed amount of resilience. Like a muscle, you can build it up, draw on it when you need it. In that process you will figure out who you really are — and you just might become the very best version of yourself.
I’ve exercised my resilience muscle quite a bit in the past year and I believe it’s made me stronger. I overcame race pain, a misaligned rear wheel, and some negative thoughts. I stuck to my race plan and managed a personal best at Quassy.
It feels good now to know that I did and I can, in fact, suck it up. Now I can’t wait to do it again.
For the nerds, here are links to my swim, bike, and run data for Rev3 Quassy. I’m doing Ironman Wisconsin on September 10, 2017. Follow me on my triathlon journey here.
