The Triathlon at Pacific Grove

Saturday, September 9
  1.5k swim
  40 k bike
  10 k run

Beep beep!  Beep beep!  Beep beep!     *slap*!!

*groan* 5:00 am, time to get up.  Let's see, that was about 5 1/2
hours of restless sleep, following a night of roughly 6 hours sleep.
Oh, yeah, we're feelin' good this morning!  Time to go race.
Yippee.  Yawn.

Stumble out of my sister's house into the early morning Santa Cruz
fog.  Load up the car and, propping my eyes open as Skippy stuffs
pasta into my face, head south on Highway 1 toward Monterey and
Pacific Grove.

"This," I think to myself, "is going to be a race of survival."
I was coming off the Week from Hell, which had consisted of early
mornings, late nights, a tight schedule on an enormous project, very
little sleep, almost no training, and a cat that got herself gagged
on her flea collar at 4 in the morning and ruined the one good night
of sleep I might have had.  Oh, yeah, I was ready to race.

We arrived race site by about 6:10 and had to scramble to unload my
stuff while parked in front of somebody's driveway.  I hurried to
pull everything together, then sent Skippy off to park the car while
I went to check in.

OK, check-in's up there, then bike check over there, body-marking
down there...geez, I'll never get set up in time!  Fortunately, like
at Wildflower, individual transition spots were marked off, and
there was plenty of room at each spot.  *whew*  I was running so
late, I figured I'd no chance of nabbing a decent spot, so this was
a considerable relief.  Rack up the bike, start pulling all your
stuff out and.... wait a minute, where are your towels?  Aw, man...
You idiot!  They're in your other bag!  panic mode on...

Skippy!  Skippy!  Quick, is the car very far away?  No?  Thank god!
Can you do me a huge favor?  I left my towels in my blue bag, two of
them, a pink one and a smaller white one.  Can you go get 'em?
Please?  THANK YOU!

What would I do without Skip??  She runs off for my towels and I
continue with my setup.  By the time she returns, I've got
everything just about ready.  Because the body marking area was some
little distance away, I pulled out my own permanent marker and
exchanged services with a couple other gals in my row.  In one way,
that saved me a lot of time, but in another, it might have taken
more--- I think I did three other girls, and suddenly I realized,
"Hey, I've gotta get my wetsuit on!!"

By this time, I had already received a good-luck hug from Skippy and
sent her on her way to find some coffee and a comfortable swim view.
OK, time to pull on the old neoprene; hmmm, the air temperature is
so warm, kinda wish I'd decided to go with the longjohn 'stead of
the fullsuit.  Oh, well.  OK, where's my wetsuit tag?  Wh.... wait,
a minute...oh, no, not again!!  Aaaaaack!

Skippy, where is Skippy?  She has my race goodie bag, and that has
my wetsuit tag and my swim cap in it!  How in the hell am I going to
find her in this crowd?!

Oh, god.  Now *real* panic mode on.  Ok, calm down, go ahead and
spray the Pam on, take the wetsuit with you, go find her.  But
HURRY!

The first two waves had already gone off.  I was saved, however, by
the unique looped format of the swim, which necessitated a long 20
minute gap between waves.  Bumbling and disorganized as I was, the
Tri gods were merciful.  I found Skippy and heaved a heavy sigh of
relief.  Tag pinned to the QR, cap on head, I headed for the beach.

Deb M and Deb S stand amongst a group of tri-gals and consider the
water.  "I bet it's cold," offers Deb S.  "Yeah, but to you,
EVERYTHING'S cold, Miss 2% Body Fat!" I protest with a wicked grin
as I approach them.  It's Deb's trademark:  the water could be 80
degrees and she'd STILL wear her wetsuit and insist it was freezing.
It's part of the race ritual to tease her about it.  "Well, I'm not
getting in 'til I absolutely HAVE to," insists Deb M.  We stand
around and exchange the usual pre-race gossip.  Then Deb S
resolutely heads for the water.  "All right, I'm gonna get this over
with..."

As usual, she returns a few moments later assuring us that it is
brutally cold.  "Oh, my god, ice cream headache!  This is serious,
that is way too cold, I can't believe it."  "Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Oh,
it can't be that bad," we tolerantly reply.  "Well, just wait 'til
you get in there!"  "Ok, ok!  I'll try it."  I saunter to the
waterline.  Nonchalantly, I step in, one stride, two, three....

Uh oh.  My god!!!!!

Deb is vindicated.

Suffice it to say, I've never swum in anything that cold in my life.
Alcatraz was a hot tub compared to this!  It was supposed to be 58
degrees, but I'd be willing to bet it was actually colder.  BRRRRR!
And I had been wishing just a few minutes earlier that I'd chosen
the longjohn today--- ha!

"Yes, I'm afraid this time she's right" I solemnly assure Deb M as I
return to the sand.  "It's incredible, I can't *believe* how cold it
is!  It's worse than Alcatraz!" Deb S grins.  "See?  I told you!"
Deb M simply shakes her head and says, "Then I'm *really* not
getting in there 'til I have to!" She didn't have long to wait,
however.  We were soon lined up for the beach start.  "Good luck!"
was exchanged all around, and before I was even ready to start my
watch, the horn sounded.  We're off!

The Swim

Eeeeyow!  Geez, that's cold.  Just get movin', girl.  So what if you
can't keep your face in the water, just swim!  Deb hit it on the
nose when she proclaimed, "Ice cream headache!"  Perfect allusion.
Or, I thought to myself, the expression from that 7-Eleven Slurpee
commercial would fit as well:  "Brain freeze!!!"

A dozen strokes or so and I can finally submerge my face
comfortably.  It's just as well I'd had to keep it up at first;
needed to do a bit of navigating around the gals in my wave.  I
seeded myself pretty well, right in the middle, but we were a good
sized crowd.  No pummeling ;-) but we were tight.

100 yards into the swim and we're spreading out nicely.  Oh, whoa,
this is *cool*!  The swim is in the little cove at Lovers' Point,
part of the Monterey Bay Marine Wildlife Sanctuary.  This means that
the water is crystal clear and the marine wildlife is abundant.
It's *gorgeous*!  I spot starfish, anemones, urchins, and all manner
of ocean flora with each stroke.  Wow, if only the sun were out!
Reminds me of snorkeling in Maui.  Only, maybe a trifle colder...

I'm busy admiring the watery scene below when I realize that a large
part of it is no longer below but rather directly ahead--- an
enormous clump of kelp looms before me, its top just breaking the
ocean surface.  Swimmers on my right, swimmers on my left....well,
here I go, OVER it!  I vaguely recall hearing someone on the beach
mentioning the kelp out there, and the proper technique for
negotiating it:  grab and pull yourself forward.  Applying this
strategy, I successfully slog through the seaweed.  Hey, that wasn't
so bad!  It's kinda fun.

By the fourth or fifth clump of kelp, fun wasn't exactly the word I
was using any more.  Nope, I reckon, this isn't just a slight
oversight on the part of the race director.  This is Pacific Grove's
version of Alcatraz's infamous Sand Ladder!  My mind drifts back to
the Alcatraz telecast, and Frank Shorter proclaiming
(approximately), "It has become customary at major triathlons to
insert a unique feature somewhere in the course." Yep, this is it!
Alcatraz has the Sand Ladder, Pacific Grove has the Kelp Crawl!

My face grins in the frigid water.  Looking at it this way, the kelp
becomes fun again.  I imagine myself scrambling over haystacks as I
claw my way through each new clump.  Yeah, just another challenge;
piece o' cake for Tri Baby!

Halfway out to the turnaround point, I realize that I'm swimming
beside my friend Hilary, who always kicks my butt in the water.
This time I'm staying with her, stroke for stroke.  "Geez," I muse
to myself, "it *really* must be cold if I'm keeping up with Hilary!"
Poor, foolish waif--- she's out here with no wetsuit.  I almost feel
guilty in my toasty warm fullsuit.  However, the feeling quickly
passes as, after rounding the turnaround buoy, Hilary inexorably
pulls away from me.  Damn!  Guess I'm just a wetsuit wussy.

Heading for the beach, it feels like I've been swimming and kelp
crawling forever.  "And this is only the first lap!" I whine to
myself.  "We get out of the water and have to turn around and do it
all again!" That's the other rather unique thing about this swim;
it's two laps of a half mile swim loop, separated by a 25 yard dash
up the beach, around a stone monument, and back to the waves.  I
emerge from the first lap all wobbly-legged, and can't help laughing
as I stumble up the beach to the roar of the crowd.  Gee, reminds me
of Alcatraz!

I wheel drunkenly around the stone thing (it used to be part of some
original pier) and head back to the cold and the kelp.  "At least
this time I won't have to deal with a pack," I think to myself.
There's just one gal about 10 yards ahead of me, and another about 5
yards behind.  I half trip, half dive back into the water and set to
work.

With nobody blocking my path, it's easier to chart a course through
the kelp.  Geez, they should have provided a kelp chart as part of
the race materials!  I'm feeling warmed up and a bit stronger.  Out
to the buoy, turn around, head for home!  I catch the girl just
ahead of me and hang on her feet for a cozy draft on the way in.
That way, too, I can let her do the work of kelp navigation.  50
yards from the beach, I throw in a kick and pass her, emerging from
the water first.  We share the jog up the long, gravelly ramp to the
transition area, tearing off wetsuits and trading observations about
that blasted kelp!

Near the top of the ramp I hear Skippy cry out, "Go, Tricia!
Bullethead!" I bust up laughing, and hear a number of people in
the crowd do the same.  Grateful for the reminder, I tear the cap
from my head in time to avoid the dreaded Bullethead photograph as I
run by.  Skippy later told me that everybody in earshot was just
cracking up, they all understood exactly what she meant.

Into the transition area!  Chivalrously, the ladies' part of the t/a
was directly at the top of the ramp, so my spot was just steps from
the entrance.  In I fly, and struggle to remove the neoprene while
remaining standing.  In a moment I abandon this method and plop to
the ground, yanking desperately 'til a nice volunteer rushes to my
aid and pulls the suit clean off.  Wow, that was nice!  Wish I had
that at all my races!

I run the bike out of the transition area to the cheers of the
crowd.  Geez, there are a lot of people here!  And they're all so
enthusiastic, it's fantastic.  OK, now hop on and GO!

The Bike

Spin, spin, spin!  Warm those legs up.  Yeah, yeah, it's s'posed to
be flat, but don't let appearances fool you; drop a gear.

The bike is four laps, out and back along the coast toward Pebble
Beach.  The road is completely closed off to cars, so we have plenty
of room to maneuver.  I had initially feared that this "criterium"
style course would result in a draft fest, but the race proved
otherwise.  I saw no drafting myself, and I never had any trouble
getting around other racers.

As I head out on the first lap, I'm trying to figure out how far it
must be to the turnaround.  You know how your brain doesn't exactly
function at its most nimble in midrace?  Well, that was pretty much
the case here!  I never actually figured out that it was roughly 3
miles to the turnaround; I just realized it when I got there and
read my computer.  Duh...

The course rolls gently along a truly spectacular stretch of
California coastline.  The only part that could be called sort of a
"hill" is the last couple hundred yards to the turnaround.  It's not
much, but when you're hammering as hard as you can over a generally
flat course, that climb hurts.  Fortunately, the aid station is just
before the "climb", and it's manned by an exceptionally fine crew of
volunteers.  I've never seen such a well-stocked aid station on a
bike course before!  Water, Gatorade, PowerBars, bananas, oranges,
cheerleaders--- yes, honest, a dozen or so local high school
cheerleaders cheered and danced and pranced through their routines
for us right on the course.  Boy, talk about a community event!

I hit the turnaround and half grin to myself; yeah, this is my kinda
course!  No climbs, just a few rollers that I can totally power
over.  No surprises, either, since it's a loop; I know exactly what
to expect for the rest of the ride.  A little bit of a headwind on
the way out, but it's not *too* bad.  I doubt I'll ever even have to
get out of my big chainring!  Cool!  I like it.

The other thing I like about this looped course is the luxury of
seeing exactly where the competition is.  On the way out, I was
pleased to notice no women on their way *in* until I was about
halfway to the turnaround.  "Good," I figured, "I can't be too far
back, and I should be able to make up a little ground on the bike."

Heading in on my first lap, I continue to pass both men and women.
Yeah, this is nice!  Despite the overcast, I'm quite comfortable
creating my own "heat" on the bike.  I make the turnaround back at
the finish area and start my second lap.  I spy Skippy a hundred
yards up the road and holler joyfully to her as I zip by.  She looks
surprised!  "Hey, how did you get by me on the way in???"  She
catches a shot of my demented grin, despite being caught off guard.
Guess I just went by so fast I was a blur! ;-)

Second lap, I know the road now, know where to push it a little,
where to ease up and spin.  I'm mostly in my 53x17, here and there I
use my 15 or my 19.  God, it's so beautiful out here!  Despite the
cloud cover, the water is the most beautiful blue.  Jagged rocks
accent the coastline, and at the far south end of the course the
dazzling flat white beach of Asilomar spreads before us.  Simply
breathtaking.  However, I've got little breath to spare--- I'm
working here!

A quarter mile to the turnaround, I spy Hilary coming the other
way.  We shout encouragement to each other.  Hmmm, wonder if I can
catch her; she whips me in the water, but we're pretty even on the
bike.  If anything, I have a slight edge on wheels.  Hmmm....

Second turnaround, back in again.  Hey, there's Deb M!  "Go, girl!"
Another half mile or so and I spot Deb S.  "All right, Deb!"  Wow, I
don't usually make it out of the water very far ahead of these two;
either they had lousy swims or I'm just already smoking this bike.
I enjoy the chance to see my pals out here and exchange
encouragements.  Yeah, I'm likin' this looped course.

Last bike lap!  I'm doing well, and I'm feeling it.  I *know* I
should be saving something for the run, but, just as at Davis two
weeks earlier, I can't bring myself to ease up.  If a bike course
suits me, I just can't waste the opportunity to maximize my
strength.  To hell with the run!  Haul it!

Heading to the turnaround for the last time, I shout out a series of
"Thank yous!" to the volunteers at the aid station.  They really
were fantastic.  I only wish that I hadn't been so well supplied
on my own that I never actually took any food or water from them!

Heading in on my last lap, a gal pulls up alongside me a bit.  A
draft marshall on a motorcycle comes along and shouts something
sternly to her.  I guess maybe she had been drafting off of me or
was riding too close alongside.  She drops back and away a bit.
Well, if she *was* drafting, she sure picked the perfect target for
it--- I make a helluva draft!  The draft marshalls were highly
visible along the course and did an excellent job.  I was
particularly grateful to see one remind a rider ahead of me to stay
to the right when not passing or avoiding someone's draft.  I
*hate* it when riders fail to do that!

I ease up just a little on the last quarter mile, stretching my
calves and finishing up what's left of my water and Cytomax.  I
talk myself into slowing up a bit, just a bit; go ahead, drop a
gear, loosen up your spin.  You've really hauled out here, you want
to finish that run, give yourself a chance.

I come barrelling into the transition area, click out, and run for
my rack.  Ouch!  Spaghetti legs!  Well, tough!  Rack the bike,
change the shoes.  Two more gals enter my row as I'm yanking off my
cleats.  A race official says to us, "All right, you gals are 8th,
9th, and 10th right now!"  My god, you're kidding me!  I don't
think I've ever been that far up in any race!  Geez, I really did
have a helluva bike.  Inspired by this, I jam out on the run.  No
faking your way through this run now, I think to myself.  You owe it
to yourself to really try to run hard.  You've never been in such
a good position before.  Hit it!

The Run

8th or 9th!  8th or 9th!  8th or 9th!

That's my mantra as I begin the run through the transition area.
I'm gratified by the cheers of the crowd.  This race is fantastic!
What a great crowd!  I guess it's much more interesting for them,
too, with all three legs of the event being looped.  They get to see
more of the action.

8th or 9th!  8th or 9th!  How long can I hold on to it?  I head out
onto the run course.  "You're looking great!"  "Good pace!"  "Great
job!"  Volunteers and spectators cheer and shout.  God, if only I
could run!  In a hundred yards, the first girl passes me.  "Well," I
think, "here we go.  But I won't go down without a fight!" I force
myself to keep my pace strong, concentrate on keeping my arms high
and close to my body, but relaxed.  Keep the swing going.

Another 50 yards and I'm at the first aid station.  Water, Gatorade,
orange slices, encouragement!  On!

Like the bike, the run follows the coast line, but in the opposite
direction.  Where the bike loop took us south toward Pebble Beach
and back, the run heads north one mile to the turnaround right in
front of the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  The second aid station is here
on the uphill at the turnaround.

The beauty of the coastline here can't distract me from the pain.
I'm running hard; not hard enough to really injure myself, but hard
enough that I'd give *anything* just to be allowed to stop!  That,
however, is impossible.  There are so many fabulous, cheering
volunteers and spectators the entire length of the run, it's a moral
imperative to keep running as hard as you can!  I have no choice, I
keep pickin' 'em up and puttin' 'em down, pickin' 'em up and puttin'
'em down...

Runners continue to pass me; I just tell myself to relax and do my
best.  Don't fight yourself, you can only do as much as your body is
capable of; just do what you can.  My heart rate is hovering in the
175-180 range; I know that I can't push much harder and expect to
finish.  Breathe deeply, keep your cadence up.  Relax.

I hit the turnaround for the first time.  Again, the crowd is
fantastic.  In addition to the volunteers at the aid station, there
is a built-in cheering section in the line of people queued up to
enter the Aquarium.  I round the turnaround marker and hit the aid
station; water and Gatorade, a cup of water thrown over my
head....Ahhhh!  Since the aid station is on an uphill, it's pretty
easy to drink while I jog through.  I toss my cups, grind up the
steeper section at the top, then make the turn back toward Lovers'
Point.  Whew, a slight downhill here, you can recover.

Back to the start/finish area.  Starting to feel a little better,
but Dang!  I'm running so hard, this hurts!  3/4 of the way back to
Lovers' Point, a girl runs by me and taps me on the shoulder.
"Good job, Trish!" It's Maria Monica, another tri-pal, and probably
the best female triathlete I know.  She is awesome!  And right now,
she is in second place!  "All right, Maria!  Your second lap?"
She's past me now, but she flashes me a thumbs up.  "Go, girl!"
God, look at that girl *run*!!!!  *sigh*  Only in my dreams!

I continue my own determined plod.  Ah, the turnaround at Lovers'
Point!  Around the markers and back toward the Aquarium.  There's
Skippy, cheering me on!  "Skippy, this hurts!" I whine.  "Just keep
doin' that 'Trot, trot, trot'!" she tells me.  "You look great!"
After the race, she tells me that I actually looked like hell at
that point, and she knew I *meant* it when I said it hurt!

Oh, god, two more of these laps!  I'll die!  Well, here's the aid
station, refuel and recover.  I slow a bit but keep moving as I take
on supplies.  Water, Gatorade, orange slices.  Every aid station,
water, Gatorade, orange slices.  Overcast notwithstanding, I'm
*hot*.  I dump water on myself every chance I get.  Two more laps!
Groan!

The laps blend together.  Runners pass me, but not as rapidly as I
expect.  The volunteers and spectators cheer.  Deb M passes me, Deb
S passes me, we exchange encouragements.  I see friends on the
opposite side of the loop, Hilary chugs on by, and Jim.  At one
point, I hear the announcer back at the finish announce that Maria
Monica has just taken the lead, and I cheer "Go, Maria!" out in the
middle of the course.  A few minutes later, I see her headed in to
the finish on the opposite side of the loop.  "All right, Maria!" I
holler ecstatically.  "You've got it!"  God, that is so inspiring!

I hear the announcer call Steve Siltanen's finish.  "All right,
Steve!"  Again, I'm really just shouting this to myself, but maybe
my fellow RSTer can hear it "telepathically" or something stupid
like that!  Anyway, it was nice to hear another familiar name.  Good
job, Steve!

At last, it's my last lap!  At the final Aquarium turnaround, I slow
to a walk on the aid station hill.  I'm hurting now.  I take on as
much fluid as I can.  I walk to the top of the hill.  My heart rate
is up to 182.  OK, one mile to go.  Take it on home, girl.

I recover on that slight downhill once more.  OK, you can push a
little bit.  Come on.  Use your arms, increase your cadence, just a
little.

Halfway back.  Kurian Davis, finished with his race, is strolling
back along the course and spots me.  "All right, Tricia!"  I still
have enough energy to call out to him and toss a joke his way.  How
I managed that, I'll never know!

A girl catches me here.  I expect her to blow past me, but she just
pulls even and holds her position.  We gasp a few words to each
other.  I figure she's bound to leave me behind, but then I make a
decision:  "No." She goes a little ahead, I stay right on her elbow.
OK, hang on.  We hit a slight hill; I grit my teeth and chug up the
rise.  She falls back just a bit, then catches me as the road levels
out.  OK, about a quarter mile left.  Hang on.

There is another hill before the finish.  As we begin the slight
ascent, I start to pull away again.  However, it's longer than I
thought, and I don't see the finish line quite as soon as I expect
to.  All right, ease up, you don't want to kick too soon or she'll
blow right by at the finish.

I'm still ahead at the top of the hill.  The road flattens out, goes
around a slight bend, and look!  The finish is right there!!!  Kick
now!!!  As much as it hurts, as certain as I am that I am
about to spontaneously combust, I turn on the afterburners.  OUCH!!!
Over the line!  I did it!  I held her off!  OUCH!

I'm surprised, when I finally look up, to see the girl finish more
than 5 seconds back of me.  Wow, I thought she was right on my
heels!  I was sure she was going to blast me!  You mean I didn't
have to kick that hard?  OUCH!!!!  ;-)  We exchange a high five and
a hug after she finishes.  "Good job!" I tell her.  "I never would
have run that hard if you hadn't been there.  Thanks!"  "God, I
know, I wouldn't have either; thank YOU!"

My final time was 2:49:46, which really disappointed me at first.  I
knew my swim had been slow; my watch said 32:xx coming out of the
water, but I figured I could chalk that up to all the "Kelp
Crawling" and the beach run in between laps.  I heard a number of
people speculate, too, that the swim had actually been a little
long, so that made me feel better.  I'm almost certain the bike was
long by roughly a mile.  I don't know what my split was, although I
averaged between 21 and 22 mph.  The run, I have no idea!  I had the
gut feeling, though, that it was my best race 10k ever.  I just ran
*so* damned hard!  Boy, that hurt.

According to the results posted at the race, I took 6th place out of
15 in F 25-29.  I was pretty happy with that.  I missed 5th place by
something like 1:13, and I honestly can think of *nowhere* that I
could have made that up.  However, I heard from a friend who got the
local paper the next day that I had actually been moved up to 5th
place somehow.  Now I'm chomping at the bit to see the final
results!  6th was quite respectable, but to make top 5 in a race as
competitive as this one?  If it's true, I swear it will dumbfound
me.

So, the Triathlon at Pacific Grove.  My favorite race ever, hands
down.  Everything about it was near perfect.  First off, the site is
incredibly beautiful.  The course is fabulous, both in terms of
natural beauty and "raceability".  The fact that both the run and
the bike courses were completely closed off to cars was marvellous.
The looped format makes the race an excellent spectator event, and
it's enjoyable for the competitors as well.  The organization was
superb, and the community involvement and support impressed me
beyond words.

Lots of food and water at the aid stations, absolutely the best
volunteers anywhere, and lots of excellent food after the race as
well.  The "expo" at the race site was a perfect size, neither too
big nor too small, and a very low-key, laid-back atmosphere.  It was
nice to have a jazz quartet playing on the stage, a refreshing
change from the usual blaring loudspeaker music.  Even the T-shirt
was the best I've picked up all year!

Honestly, it's impossible to say enough good things about this
event.  I feel extremely lucky to have participated at the
inaugural Pacific Grove tri, because it was a relatively small event
this year.  I don't believe there were more than 400 athletes in all
(if that many).  I'm willing to bet, howver, that after such an
excellent first year, it will be *much* bigger next year.

I met a lot of really great people there, and every one of them
agreed that this was a fabulous event.  Only thing I can find to
grumble about was the fact that things were so "spread out" on race
morning.  Check-in, bike check, body marking, starting area,
transition area; they were all sort of far apart, which made for a
hectic morning for those of us unable to find lodging in Monterey
for the previous night.  I'm glad that my wave start was so late!

If you can make it, I highly recommend racing the Triathlon at
Pacific Grove next year, you will not regret it!

Cheers--

Tri-Baby