As Nowra came into focus, I was feeling pretty good. In fact I was doing the jumping high 5s when I read my Coach's comment in the race plan as....
"As always get there in plenty of time and warm up well, you're pretty fit at the moment, so will be a good chance to dig in and have a crack."
For the first time I had moved away from, "Go out there and have some fun." to something a little more a kin to racing. I was happy. And as we got closer to the day I had some really solid sessions.
However, as usual my head got in the way. I started to go into self preservation mode. Well at least that is what I am calling it. My head starts to conserve energy for the day. I want to rest and sleep and not do much. I find I have no energy, or if I am doing a training session, a wee small voice in the back of my mind is saying, 'don't go to hard, you don't want to be tired for the weekend.' It's interesting to observe. Even the day before the race, we went out for a 30kms easy on the bike. It ended up as 40kms hard as I pushed two flat tyres around the route. Dopey couldn't tell she had a flat tyre, just wondered why the steering was stiff and the legs were working hard and not getting anywhere. For the rest of that day I felt under par. I felt like I was getting sick. We had 2 naps and generally just sat around on the couch. I did get my bike ready and pack my bag etc, managed to change batteries in my power metre and get my race wheels on, but it was all very much an effort. I skulked off to bed with the rain coming down in stubborn continual sheets of grey.
And that was the sound I woke up to race morning, grey, meeting brown roof tiles, heavy and mournful. I could have quite easily rolled over. And this is why having a Coach and friends and a husband who kicked me out of bed is so invaluable. The phone call from Coach the afternoon before, reminding me that I had ridden in rain before and I was ready to go. Friends who you train with and commit to racing with and push and cajole each other along the way in order to reach our goals and a husband who is there to literally kick you out of bed and do all the talking on the trip down the coast to race start.
We stood about in our race gear, bikes standing motionless in transition with rivers of water dripping from them. Huddled together under umbrellas, Big Gazza with an arm around me to keep out the cold. Even in summer the rain was starting to make me shiver.
With the bike leg eventually eliminated due to the safety on the roads, we headed river side. It was gross! The water was warm which was a relief, but sickly warm. 25.4 degrees and black silty soup. We set up for the start and I was there ready, head in front, girls all about me. At the hooter blasted I got a good start, but very quickly two girls came towards each side of me and I was squeezed out and back. Nuts! Again the dilemma, should I punch through them and smash or let them go and duck in behind. I chose the later. I had a pretty good line and only had to paddle through the weeds for a little while. Round the buoys in clear water and homeward bound. With about 250m to go though, I started to suffer. I had spotted who I thought was my main competitor in my age group. I saw her Kiama outfit and thought it was her. She was swimming really well and I worked hard to stay up with her. I later found out it wasn't her but another Kiama girl I don't know. It was good to work hard out of my comfort zone, but there is more work to do at the back end of the race in the swimming.
Out of the water and into transition. A quick minute while I tugged on shoes and a visor and off onto the run. Legs felt good. As I passed the swim exit again I spotted Roberto just exiting the water. WTF! I had made up 3+ minutes on him in the swim.
Running felt comfortable and this was the second or third time during a race that I didn't feel I had to stop and re-group the body before heading out. So I was very happy. the legs ticked along. Could I have gone harder? I'm not sure, if I went with the ebbs and flows of my body and brain, maybe. At times I lost focus and drifted off, only to bring myself back to the task at hand and keep the legs ticking over. I walked a couple of times, stopped for a quick stretch as the knees and ITBs got tighter. And at other times I felt I had some energy and pushed a little harder. I had a moment coming along the bridge for the last time where I recognised the negative thoughts. I had recently read an article that said that your mind sends you signals that things are hurting so that you slow down and stop. Its your bodies way of seeking self preservation.
We hung around for the Sprint Aquathon and the presentation. I picked up my silver medal, ecstatic that I had done so well. But when I later checked the multisport site, discovered that I had come 3rd. My only thought was that maybe Francoise had been mistakenly put in the male gender race... Or I had got it wrong. Either way I have the wrong colour medal. Nuts! But that has not dampened the experience on the day. It was a grey, but satisfying day.
My Age Group
AP10 Crew Girls
|Maddi and I post race|