Return to racing

Prior to this May, I hadn't done a full triathlon since 2015.  With some pesky IT band inflammation and bursitis in my knee, I was sticking to aquabikes and swimming for a while.  After spending November, December, January, and most of February on a run/walk plan to return to running, I was finally able to do some real running by March.  Although it was a busy and stressful spring (hence the delay in writing this post), I couldn't wait to start racing again, just because I can.  And let's not forget the real reason to race:  to get such a cool T-shirt!

Xterra Jersey Devil May 6

I finally got a mountain bike this year, a Liv Pique 2, and I had this race in mind when I got the bike.  Xterra is a series of off-road triathlons with open water swim, mountain bike, and trail run.  This course in the Pine Barrens was the perfect first off-road tri for me, with a not-too-technical bike course.  I'm a fan of races like this that allow race-day registration so I don't have to commit ahead of time.  The day before the race, I tried to take the Pique out for a short easy spin, but the derailleur cable snapped and I abruptly rode home stuck in the hardest gear.  Debating whether I should attempt to race on a less-than-fully-functional bike or skip the race altogether, I got an offer for a house call from mechanic extraordinaire Colin McDonough who easily replaced the cable and got me ready to race.  Thank you Colin!

With a 9 am start and a race location a little over an hour away, I slept in all the way until 5:30 am and barely needed an alarm to wake up on time.  The drive down got a little creepy toward the end which was completely desolate:  no houses, no other cars, only two intersections without even a light.  As always, I parked my car and jumped on my bike with the transition bag on my back and headed to register.  After signing up, I went out to ride part of the bike course as a warm-up.  Pretty soon I found myself slipping in some soft sand.  Then as the trail narrowed winding downhill, I came to a spot with trees on both sides, and I was sure I couldn't fit through.  I dismounted my bike and walked it through just to see.  My handlebars fit between the trees with about 2 inches to spare on either side.  I got out of the way as a young kid rode by and assured me that this was the toughest part of the course, but there were also some sand trenches on the other side.  I didn't exactly know what "sand trenches" meant, but I would find out soon enough.  I rode back to transition, racked my bike, and went out for a warm-up run.  I headed toward the swim start, so I could see what the run in T1 would be like.  Not so great.  I wasn't concerned with how long the run was, but there was a stretch of rocky driveway that I just couldn't run barefoot.  I ran down to see the lake and part of the run course, then headed back up to finish my warm-up with some stretching and running drills.  I made sure my transition set-up was ready, and headed to the swim start. 

The photographer caught me at the most challenging moment in any triathlon:  putting on the wetsuit.  Especially for the first time in the spring season, it's a struggle.  After what felt like forever, I got in a quick swim warm-up, but I was still uncomfortable and probably didn't give myself enough slack in the shoulders of the wetsuit. 

A mass start was appropriate for a race this small (about 100 people), but the swim had a 90 degree turn after about 100 m on this 2 loop course.  I went out at a normal pace, which meant I was right in the middle of everybody at the turn buoy.  I choked a little and had to resort to breaststroke when there was no room to swim.  Eventually the pack thinned out, I finally got into a rhythm by the the second lap, not as strong as I should be, but ok.  The finish of the swim course is weird because you were almost swimming parallel to the shore and didn't have to go around a buoy at the very end.  This reminds me of "The Lifeguard Problem" we do in Calculus and PreCalculus, where you try to minimize the time to reach a certain point based on the swimming rate and the running rate.  Since most people can run faster than they can swim, it's faster if more of the distance is covered by running.  So I tried to angle in to the beach as early as I could. 

Normally, I have no problem running barefoot, but this time I left an old pair of sneakers by the dock to help with the long rocky run back to transition.  I took the wetsuit down to my waist while running, then took it and the shoes off back at transition and put on a dry pair of shoes for the bike and the run.

 

 Starting off on the same section of the course where I did the pre-ride, a few guys flew by me as I coasted through the soft sand.  Fortunately I was all alone briefly by the narrow part of the trail, so I went super slow and made it through without hitting any trees.  A few rolling ups and downs, and a couple sections alternating between gravel paths and sandy singletrack.  Eventually, I discovered that "sand trenches" mean sections where the trail was worn down into a V shape, so the center of the trail was much lower, and sand was piled high on either side.  The center of the trail was the best path because the sides were loose sand at an awkward angle.  Finally a fallen log, which the race director warned us could be hopped on the far right side or dismounted to cross, which is what I did.  I was in a pack of four at this point, and I called out that I was dismounting and stayed all the way to the left side, where the log was about two feet off the ground.  Two more people behind me did the same, but the guy behind seemed impatient that we were slowing him down.  I was relieved when another guy yelled out, "well maybe you should swim faster next time." 

The second lap was even better, as I kind of knew what to expect.  I got passed right before the narrow part and just grazed a tree with the side of my handlebar, but I held it steady.  I got a lot of encouragement along the way, and everyone was communicating to help each other ride safely.  As I started to panic coasting into a big puddle of mud, the guy behind me kindly yelled at me to keep pedaling.  This was when it really clicked for me that I get better traction in mud or sand if I pedal continuously rather than coasting, which is my natural instinct (like when your car hits a patch of ice or starts to hydroplane in a puddle).  The last section of the bike was a smooth gradual incline where I could see people out on the run course already, so it made for a good sprint to the finish of the bike.  For a quick transition, I chose to bike in my running shoes, so I just had to rack my bike and take off my helmet (Liv Infinita SX MIPS).  I felt great being back on my feet.  I felt strong and fast. 

Looking back...  these photos illustrate everything that's wrong with my running form that has caused knee problems.  I spent the last six months trying to correct my running form, and I think I've made some decent progress, but these photos don't show it at all.  Of course, I'm pretty tired at this point in the race, so maybe it's normal that my form is not great.  My arms are crossing way over my body, my foot is angled so that I'm landing on the outer edge of my foot with the toes angled out, and there's way too much of that awkward kick out to the right side in the back part of my stride.   All things to keep working on. 

But at the time... I was in the moment, having a blast, going through the woods, trying not to trip over stuff, navigating some wobbly boards through the swampy parts, jumping over logs, throwing in short bursts on the little climbs.  I would push myself really hard to catch another runner, then ease off until there was a section of trail suitable to pass someone.  The course passed by the finish line, and the last half mile or so had sections of smooth terrain that were great for pushing the pace, broken up by a little section with some logs to jump over again, then a smooth stretch to the finish. 

1:51:30 must be the longest "sprint" I've ever done.  But I loved every moment, even if just for the sake of spending a cool spring morning in the woods.  From a very interesting, new-to-me type of race, to a very familiar race...

French Creek Triathlon May 20

Our annual family reunion at French Creek did not disappoint.  Volunteering at the kids' races Saturday, staying in the cabins, and hanging out with family made the weekend complete.  

Since most of the people staying in the cabin were volunteering on Sunday morning, I was probably the last one out of bed, but still had plenty of time to load up my transition bag and go for a warm-up bike ride ending at transition all before sunrise.  I set up my space on the "bike out" side of transition, got in a warm-up run, then headed to the lake for a warm-up swim.  Only as I started to put my wetsuit on did I realize that there was a big gash in the leg of the suit since the last time I wore it.  So I swam with part of my thigh hanging out, oh well.  

The swim start felt a little tight.  At the very beginning, I felt myself getting squeezed between two strong swimmers, so I backed off to give myself more space, but I backed off a little too much and couldn't hang onto their draft zone.  Since my swim training was pretty limited in the weeks leading up to this race, I just tried to settle into a rhythm and stay relaxed.  While the course has long enough straightaways so swimmers get spread out before the turns, the only issue was passing people from previous waves, which just requires sighting and awareness.  On the way back, the big yellow arch at the swim exit was a great addition to the race.  However, I focused so much on sighting directly toward the exit that I actually swam right into one of the buoys without even seeing it.  I felt pretty tired getting out of the water, but that's the difference of not having consistent swim training.  If I swim every day, I don't actually go that much faster, but I'm able to swim the same speed without getting quite so tired.

The bike felt good.  The roads were wet and this was my first time racing on carbon wheels, so I didn't ride as aggressively as I could have, especially on the downhills and turns.  I also didn't spend much time in aero, partly because of the nature of the course doesn't have many flat straight sections, but also because I'm still getting used to the feel of the Avow.  I passed a few women along the way, and especially felt strong on the climbs, which were so daunting just a few years ago.  It's amazing what can happen with a lighter bike, learning how to get out of the saddle, and just practicing hills all the time.  

Out on the run, I realized this is the most running on pavement I had done in years.  My return-to-running plan was all on soft surfaces, but I had gradually started to re-introduce pavement when I would run with the middle school track team I coached.  Even though I had done a little bit of hill training, the first mile of the run was a tough climb.  I felt pretty good by the turn-around, but I realized my lead was not that big, so I tried to pick it up on the hill coming out from Scotts Run lake.  The nice long downhill made up for all that suffering.  As I came back toward the finish, I called out to my 10-year-old niece Keira to race me to the finish.  I think she tried, but couldn't keep up for about 200 m.  Keep practicing, Keira.  After the race and hanging out by the food, I had a nice cool down run with my sister Colleen exploring some of the trails along the lake and splashing through some mud.  

I'm proud of another win in the female sprint at French Creek, and 1:22:15 is my best time on this course.  However, my run was only 22:22 for a 5k.  Although this is not an easy course, this is motivation to get my run a little faster.  Since then, I did a local 5k at ETS in Princeton and went 20:52, so it's coming along.  I'm looking forward to a few more sprints and 5k's this year!

Kenny Trifecta

Kenny Trifecta aka Mega Crush the Losers

A while back, I had the idea of a sisters relay versus our brother, John Kenny, in a triathlon.  We would have almost no chance of beating him, unless he was out of shape and we all had the race of our lives, but it would be fun to tri.  Well, the idea of racing our brother morphed into the idea of a relay for the Philly Tri, with our brother spectating.  Although Keira used her nine-year-old imagination to create the unsporstman-like team name "Mega Crush the Losers" (making an acronym for Maribeth, Colleen, and Laura), we went with a more conventional name, "Kenny trifecta."

We started our weekend out with a Saturday morning swim at Upper Merion.  I drove through downpours and flooded streets to get there, but the sun came out and we had a beautiful morning by the time we got to the pool.  I just did 3k, and used fins for the entire main set, a mix of stroke and IM.  Next stop Wawa for some hoagiefest replenishment, and off to packet pickup on boathouse row. It's always good to be back in Philly and to linger by the river for a while. The expo is also a good excuse for new gear.  Since MB picked out the American flag bathing suit, I went with option #2, a purple and black suit to match all my other Liv gear in purple & black.

In the afternoon, after stretching and rolling on the lacrosse ball for about an hour, Colleen and I went for a short bike ride.  For me, to loosen up before the race.  For Colleen, to test ride my Brava in case she wants to borrow it to do her own triathlon eventually.  The Horsham powerline trail is always nice for a short traffic-free ride (if only it could have been built a decade or so earlier).

Sunday morning, we found out the swim was cancelled due to rain the previous morning.  This took MB out of the race, which was a bummer since this was supposed to be her big comeback, but ultimately I believe it was the right call by the race directors, as the currents were strong and potential for bacteria and debris in the river increased.  The last time the swim was cancelled at Philly (2015), they did a time trial start on the bike, which took a really long time, and left us racing in the heat of the day.  I was glad they changed it to a run-bike-run, for a quicker start.  However, this meant that Colleen had to run 2 miles, then wait around over an hour while I biked, then run another 4.2 miles.  She was very adaptable and did this, even though we only found out about 10 minutes before transition closed.

My bike was racked in the relay section, near some PDS colleagues and right next to Dave Lowry, with his stacked team Auria.  So, while waiting for the runners to come in, I had good company to chat with in transition.  I also did some lacrosse ball massage against a tree for my shoulders and hips (definitely looking like a bear scratching my back against a tree), stayed hydrated with my Gu hydration drink, and tried to catch some shade.

Anticipating Colleen's arrival from the run, I moved to the opposite side of the rack, away from the crowd of relay participants.   We handed off the chip and off I went, struggling a bit to run in bike cleats over the grass, and I realized I didn't secure the splash guard on my water bottle, so it was splashing all over and continued to do so anytime I went over a bump during the race.  As usual, I gave myself some extra space beyond the mount line.  I got into aero and started passing people right away on the first flat section on west river drive, then off to the first climb, which starts gradually up the ramp to the Strawberry mansion bridge, then levels off, then turns into a steeper climb.  After the loop on Chamounix, a cyclist who had stopped on the left side of the road was getting back on the course, and I passed her on the right in a narrow space between her and an official on a motorcycle.  Winding down the hill, I came out of aero and just tried to control the speed and lean into the turns without using the brakes.  Around the turn to the ramp, someone in front of me lost a water bottle, which I had to dodge.  At the bottom of the ramp, turning back onto west river drive, the cyclist in front of me was hugging the left side of the turn, so again I found myself passing on the right, and trying to maintain my speed close to 30 mph for as long as possible after that downhill.  The officials were hanging next to me for a while, so I was pretty sure I was getting a penalty, but I don't think I did.  After that, I tried to be more mindful of passing on the left, but sometimes it makes more sense to do what seems safe than what is proper.

Crossing the Falls bridge always reminds me of that dreaded addition to the Philly marathon course.  On a bike, it's a tough space to pass, with sharp turns on and off.  I think I would have been better off slowing and staying behind rather than trying to pass on a turn and going wide.  The hills on the Kelly drive side always seem tougher, and the flat sections seem longer and lonelier.  But down by the art museum always feels more lively, despite the sneaky subtle incline.  Coming back on the other side of the river, you catch a glimpse of the pros on their run, then turn up for another hill.  It starts off gradually, then turns and gets steeper.  I did brake a decent amount on the downhill heading toward transition, near where they had bales of hay to cushion the fall in case anyone went into the ditch (didn't want that to be me).  Then past my fan section, catching a glimpse of my dad as went off to loop #2.

On the second loop, I felt myself stalling a little bit at the top of the first climb.  I had to remind myself to get my cadence back up as the road flattened out.  Around the circle, I stayed in the big ring this time, but that made it harder to get my momentum coming out of the turn.  Mostly the same on the second loop, except more slower riders on their first loop to navigate around.  For the second loop, I went to the small ring a little sooner on most of the climbs.  I typically found people passing me early in the climbs, then I would pass them back near the top.  I've definitely gotten better about pacing myself, because it used to be the opposite.

Dismounting safely, I passed Kristin at her volunteer post, then went on to the most painful part of the race:  running my bike back into transition.  We need to research the rules of triathlon relays a little better.  I racked my bike then removed the timing chip.  Perhaps we could have saved time by have Colleen remove the chip while I held my bike, but I'm not sure if that's allowed.  Once I swapped my helmet and bike shoes for sneakers and a hat, I went out to greet the family and go cheer for Colleen on the run.  She came through her first loop so quickly, almost as soon as I got to the run course.  You could tell it was hot, but she looked strong.  When she finished, I thought I heard the announcer say my name (I guess I was listed as team captain), which was a weird way to announce a relay finish.

We got some delicious food:  fruit & yogurt, kale salad, pasta salad, beets, and hard boiled eggs.  Philly Tri has definitely improved their post-race food over a couple years ago.  Then of course, free beer, an IPA from Conshohocken Brewing Company.  When we checked our results, Colleen's combined 10k time was 45:10, with the first part being significantly faster, but still pretty solid on both legs.  My bike split was 1:10:56, a good PR over all the years I've done this course.  I definitely had the more fun and scenic part of the race, though.  We hung around to be called up to the podium for first out of one in the female relay division.  Where are all the other female relay teams, people?

Casco Bay SwimRun

Gearing Up

Back in February, Rebecca and I signed on to race Casco Bay SwimRun (the first "island to island" race in the US).  Since we live over an hour apart, we didn’t train together regularly early on, but each trained on our own within the constraints of the injuries we’ve had in this past year and all the other races on our calendar.  We got together once in June for a 5000m pool swim and 3 mile run, giving us a sense of how our paces would match up.  In the last few weeks, we got together for three swim-run specific workouts using all of our race gear, two in the ocean at Wildwood Crest and one at Marsh Creek State Park.  I also did a few swim-run specific workouts on my own, alternating quickly between intervals such as 10 minute swim/ 10 minute run for about an hour, using some of the gear including shoes and pull buoy strapped on. 

The swim-run race allows for a variety of equipment, such as paddles and fins.  However, whatever equipment you take has to be carried for the entire course (about 4 miles of swimming and 10 miles of running broken into short segments with about 18 transitions).  The course must also be completed as a team, staying within 10 meters of your teammate throughout the entire course.  We opted to swim with the shoes on, so a pull buoy helps prevent the feet from sinking.  Also, swimming with shoes on, I have found that you don’t get much power from the kick anyway.  We did see a few teams swimming with fins, but that would add to the transition time and could be difficult on the rocky shores.  I opted not to use paddles because I have had shoulder pain in the past from swimming with paddles, so I have only gradually re-introduced them into my training in small quantities (no more than 300 m per practice so far).  Also, since I am a slightly stronger swimmer over long distances, it helped to even out our speeds by me not using paddles. 

Here is the gear we carried with us:

•           Wetsuit cut above the knees and elbows (Huub amphibia for me, Head swim-run wetsuit for Rebecca)
•            Innov-8 X-talon 200 trail shoes  (super lightweight, grippy trail shoe)
•           Pressure bandage (gauze and an ace bandage in a ziplock bag), maps, whistle, compass—all required by the race, but fortunately we didn’t need to use any of these
•           Nutrition—Gu chews for me, cliff shot blocks for Rebecca, and some protein smash packs to share
•            Paddles and compression socks for Rebecca only
•           Swim tether (belts, carabineers, bungee cord, with much preparation ahead of time to adjust it to the right length)
•           Cap & goggles
•            New wave swim buoy provided by the race for visibility and carrying gps tracking device
•           Bib number provided by the race (basically a tank top worn over the wetsuit) 
•       Pull Buoy with a strap to attach it to the leg

On our transitions from swim to run, as practiced, Rebecca unclipped her tether and handed it to me (since my hands were free with no paddles) to wrap around my waist and clip to the belt.  I also opted to carry the New Wave swim buoy because it was easier for me to handle with my hands free.  As a trade-off, Rebecca carried our timing chip, worn around the ankle.  Around the 2^nd or 3^rd swim entrance, the timing chip fell off.  Fortunately someone behind us saw it drop, so we picked it up and stuffed it inside the wetsuit.  Also, Rebecca tried to carry some extra body glide, but when I asked her for it during our run on Peaks Island, it had fallen out.  We both ended up with some wetsuit chafing, but my neck looks horrible right now, even several days later.  I also got chafing near the front of the armpits.  I think I had too much slack in the shoulders of my wetsuit, which is a trade-off for having enough space to rotate the shoulders comfortably. 

Race day

After a 4:30 am wake-up, coffee, and breakfast, our morning started with a warm-up bike ride, about a mile, from our accommodations in Munjoy Hill (Eastern Portland) to the ferry terminal.  After locking up our bikes, we boarded the ferry.  Heading downstairs, we found a section with enough room to do some stretching an warm-up during the 45 minute ferry ride.  Through the fog, we got to see some of the course and key landmarks.  Originally, there was supposed to be a half hour delay for the fog to lift, then they said the race would start on time 7 am.  Getting into our wetsuits and getting ready felt frantic, but we made it, and I think the race actually started closer to 7:15.  After getting off the boat, we were standing around in the back of the crowd.  Fortunately, Rebecca led our way through the crowd to a more reasonable place for us to start near the middle. 

The first 1.2 mile run on Chebeague Island was mostly on roads.  I was struggling to keep up with Rebecca at first, as we wove our way through the crowd.  I felt the pull buoy strapped onto my leg slowly slipping down toward my knee, and before I knew it, the buoy was on the ground.  I called out for Rebecca to stop, and pulled it up higher, onto the thickest part of the thigh.  Having trained running with the pull buoy numerous times, I was surprised by this race-day mishap.  My only explanation is that my wetsuit was still dry, and I hadn’t practiced running in a dry wetsuit with the buoy.  I guess it wasn’t sticky enough to hold in place. 

Toward the beach there was a little downhill, and Rebecca continued to lead the charge while I hung on.  Because of the crowd funneling onto a short single track section near the dunes, it slowed to a walk while we got the tether ready for our first transition.  We started swimming right away and started passing teams who were walking out into the water further.  This first swim is a sandbar that was only underwater because it was close to high tide.  Typically it might have been advantageous to do dolphin dives in this section, but this is not something we practiced with all the gear and tether.  High tide was expected at 8:40 that day, so we were expecting water to be flowing into the bay at this point, pulling us from right to left.  We were aiming a little bit to the right, but I didn’t sight quite often enough during this first swim, so we did a little bit of zig-zagging.  There were other teams all around us at this point, so the more important thing was to avoid crashing into or getting tangled with other swimmers.  The water was shallow enough that we could see the rocks on the bottom for most of this first swim, except a little bit in the middle where the water was deeper. 

The short run on Little Chebeague was a grassy trail.  I turned my ankle (without any pain) early on while trying to get some Gu chews out of my pocket.  The front zipper of the wetsuit was difficult to access with the required orange bib worn over it, so after this, I didn’t go into the pockets unless I had plenty of time and a smooth running surface.  As we approached the beach, there was a wood boardwalk, and Rebecca’s feet slid out, but she managed to keep her balance.  Then we slowed it down to be careful on this section. 

On the swim from Little Chebeague to Long Island, we started to get into a rhythm, and the crowd spread out enough to be comfortable.  The first run on Long Island was our first introduction to the hills on the course, not huge hills, but noticeable rollers.  This was a cool section with rustic island homes and piles of lobster traps on the side of the dirt road. 

The transition from this first run on Long Island to our next swim was very rocky.  Unfortunately, this was a very rocky entry to the water, so I slid down in a nearly seated position.  We mistakenly thought some of the lead women's teams were right in front of us, so our competitive instinct kicked in, and we pushed very hard through this section.  This swim across Shark Cove was the roughest water we encountered in the entire race.  There were noticeable waves flowing toward the shore (left to right).  Training in the ocean was definitely helpful preparation, as the waves were not quite as big as the Jersey shore.  Another short, slow, and treacherous journey on foot over the dunes (aka the “nubble”), and we were back into the water headed to Vail Island.  The course map shows a run along the beach, but we were advised in the pre-race meeting to enter the water as directly as possible and swim at an angle to Vail.  I think we were close to high tide at this point, so there was not a significant current to account for here. 

Vail was by far the most dangerous part of the course, about a half-mile scramble along the jagged rocky coast.  It started to rain lightly, adding to the slickness from ocean water and some kind of slippery algae-like growth in parts where the rocks held water.  I tend to be overly cautious on wet rocks, having broken my arm hiking on wet rocks years ago.  I felt bad as Rebecca had to wait for me a few times, and other teams passed us.  The scenery here was amazing, almost reminding me of Ireland, but I tried to stay focused on the footing and not look around too much.  I started to feel the strain on my right hip, as the direction we were going meant that the right leg was usually at a higher elevation than the left leg.  Rebecca provided great encouragement through this section, and I was just happy to be back in the water soon enough for a short swim. 

Video of Vail Island

Exiting the water back onto Long Island, we quickly grabbed some hydration at the aid station and got onto some serious running through a quaint neighborhood.  Some of our male competitors complained that we weren’t supposed to be running so fast as we passed them. I pulled out the old trick from cross country where you pass on both sides (one person on the right and one on the left) to psych out your opponent.  Oops, sorry. 

The swim from Long Island to Peaks Island was the longest swim of the whole race, at nearly 1700 yd.  This was the easiest one to sight because we just had to stay to the right of the small island (Pumpkin Nob) close to Peaks Island.  There was a current moving from left to right, and we started out swimming on the left of a team of men.  I thought we were going to pass them, but we ended up swimming side by side for a long time.  In retrospect, I should have dropped back and drafted off them.  Since we were blocking the current from them, I think it made it easier for them to keep up with us, and I wasn't able to pass them.  However, it did prevent me from swimming off course, as I would have swum right into them if I had allowed the current to push me sideways.  As we approached the small island, we passed more swimmers on our left, and again only had a narrow path to swim between other teams.  We also passed some folks with fins here.  As we approached Peaks Island, we swam through a huge patch of seaweed.  Here, I was glad we trained in Marsh Creek with lots of plant life so I didn’t get too freaked out by swimming through stuff.  As we stood up, loads of seaweed were stuck in our tether so we had to untangle it and lose that weight we were dragging around. 

Peaks Island had the longest run of the whole course, about 3.5 miles.  Preparing for this race, this part was my biggest concern since 3.5 miles has been my longest training run in the last month, due to my knee issues.  The race turned out to be much less painful than most of my training.  The first stretch of Peaks Island was on roads, so we used this time to settle in and get some nutrition.  As we turned right onto the trails, I was in front at first, but quickly asked Rebecca to take the lead and set the pace.  She did a great job of calling out cues for the terrain and turns (rocks! roots! right!).  The first part was a single track grass trail with thick brush, so there wasn’t much room to go off course.  However, the course was marked very well with tons of pink ribbons.  Once we got further into the woods, the trail was less clear.  It reminded me of a “Ron Horn” race (anyone familiar with Pretzel City Sports knows what I mean).  It looked like they intentionally made the course go where there was no trail.  Eventually, we returned to the road and ran by some beautiful waterfront properties with carefully tended gardens.  The whole neighborhood came out to cheer us on.   Running for this long in a wetsuit started to get hot.  We ran by some bikes on the side of the road and had the temptation to get on and ride.  Toward the end of this run as we started to fade, we had to stop and dig some nutrition out of Rebecca’s pockets that she couldn’t reach.  After a little run along a rocky beach, we were back in the water at last. 

All of the swim exits on the course were marked with a yellow banner and had volunteers wearing orange shirts, so I sighted toward the yellow and orange.  I was swimming strong and sighting often, right on my target.  We started to separate from other swimmers and had a volunteer kayaker right next to us.  I kept looking toward the kayak every time I breathed to the side, and got no response or intervention from them.  Once I was close enough to see clearly, the yellow and orange that I was sighting toward was a boat in someone’s backyard, so I stopped and looked around.  Rebecca pointed to the yellow banner, which was a few hundred yards away.  I redirected and swam through a bunch of lobster traps to get there, a little frustrated that the kayaker didn’t get in front of us and stop us sooner, and very frustrated with myself for sighting the wrong point. 

We carefully went up the slick boat ramp onto Cushing Island.  On the smoothest running surface, a nice dirt road, I suddenly felt my knee lock up.  I couldn’t complain too much, because this was our 2^nd to last run and fortunately the first time I felt any knee pain over the whole race.  I eased off and went carefully, especially over the rocks entering our next swim toward the tower on House Island.  I thought we were supposed to aim to the left of the tower, but Rebecca yelled for me to aim right, so we did and followed other swimmers out on some very steep and slippery rocks.  This part of the course was ambiguous, as we had an option to swim around the island an additional 300 yards to the swim exit or exit early and do a rock scramble along the shore.  We followed other swimmers over the rocks, which were nearly as treacherous as Vail.  I took it very carefully, as my knee was about done at this point.  It didn’t hurt that bad; it was just hard to get it to bend.  After the official swim exit, we entered the fort (from the War of 1812) and saw passageways into earthen embankments and ran through a tunnel made of stone.  We skirted around the yard of the only house on the island, and back along the beach toward the final swim.  Volunteers were very helpful telling us that the current was pushing everyone from left to right, so I sighted often and aimed a little to the left of our target.  Onto the beach thinking we were done, there was still a steep staircase to run up before a sprint to the finish. 

Since I didn’t wear a watch, I had completely lost track of time and was pleasantly surprised to see 4:14 on the clock.  I estimated between 4 and 5 hours, depending on conditions… how rough the water would be, how strong the currents, how treacherous the terrain.  I think the water was calmer than I expected, but the sections on land were more challenging and slower than expected.  We ended up as the 6^th female team and 22^nd overall (out of about 120 teams).  All in all, I am proud of our teamwork, leaning on each other’s strengths, and nearly seamless transitions. 

The finish line celebration was great, with a sprinkler to rinse off, free beer (Pale Ale and IPA from Funky Bow Brewery), and great food (veggies and pasta for me, lobster and mussels for most, and some sweet blueberry cake).  There was lots of happy chatter about the course.  The only downside to the post-race was waiting in the heat for the crowded ferry to get back to Portland.  Then, before we could truly rest, we had to ride our bikes back up the hill, which may have been the hardest part of the day. 

Later that day, we rode our bikes into the cobblestone of the port area and explored the city.  The next day, we took a relaxing recovery ride and the Back Cove trail, a gravel trail around one of the inlets. We had to get the biking in somewhere, to make it an unofficial triathlon weekend.  After the bike ride, I went to collect shells from the beach, the same place we did a chilly pre-race swim on Saturday.  Without a wetsuit, I made it less than 10 minutes in this water.  

All in all, this was a great fitness challenge, a fun new style of racing, and a unique opportunity to literally race together with a teammate.  This is not a race for the typical triathlete overly concerned with splits and paces, but more for the adventurous trail runner/open water swimmer.  It has elements of real open water swimming that most triathlons shield their participants from, having to sight from up to a mile away and understand the effects of tides, currents, and waves.  

Since I was racing and couldn't think of a good way to carry a GoPro, I personally don't have many good photos or videos of the actual race, but here are some links with great coverage of the event:

Drone videos

Photos

Many thanks to the race directors, Jeff Cole and Lars.  Putting on a race of this length is no small feat, and especially considering that this was the first year for this race, it was an extremely organized and well-run event.  Thanks to all the volunteers who kept an eye on our safety throughout the course and staffed the much-appreciated aid stations.   The course was open for 6 hours, so these folks spent a long time out there supporting us.  Thanks to all the sponsors, especially New Wave swim buoys and Funky Bow Brewery.  Thanks to the local community who welcomed us into their Maine island paradise and cheered us on from start to finish.   Thanks to Travis Mills for his service to our country, and the Travis Mills Foundation, charity partner for this event.