One of the hardest things about blogging has to be getting back into it after taking a long break. Firstly, you have to get over your feelings of self loathing ('Ben, you're such a lazy little turd..how could you have not written anything for over two years???), then you have to work out what to write about and what should be left out as you try to pick up the narrative thread of your athletic life.
In short: last year, I had a diagnosis of arthritis in my left hip that left me scared to run at all for a few months. But, with virtually no pain, I decided it would be OK to run a bit, to keep in shape and to be part of the Achilles community in New York, and to still do tri's up to Olympic distance, but I would no longer be doing things like grueling 18 mile training runs for marathons that can really beat up the body.
Earlier in the summer, I did the NYC triathlon for the 4th time, and decided that I didn't want my triathlon season to end there, so signed up to do a tri in Montauk, at the end of Long Island. This one definitely challenged me in ways no other triathlon has. I got through it - but pretty it most definitely weren't.
One way I now look at triathlons is that there are 3 different challenges involved, so my race report will be told through the lens of these 3 challenges.
Challenge 1): you typically have to get up ludicrously early. This one was no different; transition opened at 5 am, and while most of the Achilles team (including me) had a start time of 6.50, our fearless leader Kat had decided that we should get to transition soon after 5 to get bikes out of the van and do the countless other things that need to be done to get ready for the race. The evening before, I'd kind of balked at that time, thinking how grumpy and dysfunctional I'd be waking up at 4.30, and wondering what we'd be doing for nearly two hours before race start, but of course, Kat was right. We didn't get there until around 5.30, and the time seemed to fly by as we got ready, the morning sky gradually lighting up. Before long, we were hearing the national anthem and then being told to make our way down to the beach (on a lake, not the Atlantic!) for race start.
2): logistics, a.k.a. so much shite to remember for triathlons. I've never been one of the best organized people - the expression "I'd lose me balls if they weren't in a bag" could have been invented just for me - so triathlons have always represented a challenge on this front, bringing out my paranoia that I will forget but some small but crucial bit of kit (race chip, goggles, liner for leg) that would mean I wouldn't be able to finish the race. All for the want of a nail etc etc.
Well, I was doing pretty well as I did bring everything up to Montauk - but where I managed to screw up was in leaving my crutches at our Montauk base. This meant that after I'd changed into my wetsuit, my left limb wouldn't fit into either my walking leg or running leg, so I basically had to kind of hop to the start of the race from transition, leaning on my leg, with my handler Melissa helping me on the other side. I was annoyed at myself because not only was it slow and uncomfortable getting around, I was wasting valuable energy hopping around that I would need for the race.
3) Challenges of the race itself. While I've been feeling increasingly comfortable about open water swimming, this race did represent a particular challenge. Due to hurricane Joaquim around 500 miles away, there was a cold and blustery wind, blowing at around 20 mph. The night before, as I tried to get to sleep, I remember listening to the wind whistling outside, and thinking how much I didn't want to be getting up early to jump in a cold lake in these conditions.
But here I was, on the waters edge; our wave was off, and I gingerly lowered myself into the frigid water, inevitably hyperventilating but trying to calm my breathing rhythm. After a while I got into my stride, but found there were swimmers who were coming straight at me. It was an out and back course, and I'd gone off course so I was swimming in their lane. Cursing at the prospect of being hit - imagining being knocked out and my unconscious form being dragged out of the water - I swam a sharp left to get out their way. Next challenge: water in the goggles. This started to bother me; i've never really known how to deal with this in open water; this is when the first thought occurred to me that I should just raise my hand and quit. But the stubborn bastard inside me said no. Instead, one of the race volunteers on a paddle board let me cling on for a bit while he helped readjust my goggles. Off again, I finally reached the last buoy out, and was happy to turn round to face back towards the beach.
The swim challenge wasn't quite yet finished because it started to get so cold that I could hardly feel my hands and face; I started to feel very tired and that I was moving too slowly through the water. Another couple of times it crossed my mind that I wanted to quit, but I kept plugging away, and finally, after what seemed like the toughest swim of my life, I was on the beach and done with the hardest bit.
Melissa was there to meet me; I had about 5 layers on but was shivering as the cold wind blew over me. For the bike course, I decided to go out with the jeans I'd worn to transition to help stay warm. Not very sporty looking but hey ho, comfort is the number one thing. The bike course of 40 km was fairly hilly, and the wind made things interesting. One minute you could be going 8 mph into a head wind, the next 25 mph with the wind on your back.
The course wasn't too crowded, and I was able to warm up, so there were some bits of the bike course I was able to savour: in a couple of places we went right up against the Atlantic Ocean, bright blue in the morning sunshine, with beautiful huge white crested waves washing up on the shore. We went past the iconic lighthouse; at that moment I had a smile on my face; the early start and cold swim starting to feel like they were all worth it, after all.
Passing my Achilles teammates, many of them blind athletes on tandems, and shouting out words of encouragement to each other, I gradually made my way back to T2. Once there, I decided to take in some nutrition as I hadn't eaten anything on the bike, before strapping on the old running leg and taking off for the 10k run.
I hadn't done any brick workouts recently, and not many long runs, and this started to show soon into the last leg. There's no hiding from an Olympic tri if you haven't done the hard work training for it! After running for a bit, I slowed down to a walk, then decided to alternate run/walk for the rest of the distance. I didn't want to push myself too hard and wanted to enjoy some of the scenery. For last mile or so found the energy reserves to run through to the end, and over the finish line.
After crossing, it's always such an emotional release that always takes me by surprise. The pure feeling of elation at having accomplished another triathlon and overcoming all the obstacles along the way had me yet again with this strange, salty fluid in my eyelids.
Another first - I actually napped in transition area, before some pizza and gatorade with some of the Achilles crew - before another nap in the Achilles van - before another nap on the grass outside the Achilles van - and we were going back to our base, and then in the van for the 3 hour trip back to Manhattan.
This was a hard race, but because of this I'll always look back on it with pride at my accomplishment. As always, being around the incredible positive energy of the rest of the Achilles guides and athletes made it a great overall experience, leaving me feeling incredibly lucky that this organization and inspiring group of people are part of my life.
