First of all I should say I am indebted to Peter and Janelle Rimmereid for giving me a place to stay on Friday night, even though they were out of town. That made preparation so much easier (driving six miles in the morning rather than over an hour was very helpful). Also, it was great to see people I haven't seen in awhile--Wapo people, seminary people, and all of that. Doing this with familiar friends certainly helped.
With that, let's get to the race. When I arrived at Ox Lake for the start I went through the normal routine of checking over the bikes and warming up, which is usually pretty uneventful. However, if there's one thing I've learned from things like this it is that something--usually little--always goes wrong. This time the problem was more than a little one. When I got around to testing the road bike, checking shifting and all that, I ran into a serious problem. When I accelerated or put a lot of pressure on the pedals the chain was slipping on the gears quite badly. The chain was brand new, which could mean only one thing: the teeth on the rear cassette were worn down. This was something the bike shop had told me was not a problem, but now I was finding it most certainly was. Unfortunately, there was no way to fix this. I would simply have to ride with slipping gears. My best leg (the road bike) was starting to look a lot more challenging.
The other thing was the humidity. It wasn't super hot--right around 72 degrees at start time--but the humidity was around 75% and it meant almost nothing was evaporating. And the thing is I sweat A LOT. It's something we Scandanavians struggle with--we are very white. So, that would prove to be an additional challenge.
10k road run
As always the race started at much too fast a pace. I ran with a group (not the lead group, mind you) that did the first and second miles at 7:10 pace, which considering the hills was blistering (both for me and for most of the others). Some of them were relay runners, but several were individuals like myself. I hung at the back of the group, aware we were running too fast. However, I felt pretty good. The legs were good and I was probably pushing myself around 75%, which was only slightly harder than I would have liked.
Predictably, the times slowed down. My mile times went from 7:10 and 7:10 to 7:35 and 8:00, then a bit over 8 minutes for the last two miles. My goal time was between 47 and 48 minutes, which is about 4 minutes slower than my personal best. I wanted to leave plenty of energy for the next three legs, so I consciously slowed down for the last couple of miles (especially mile 5 which was largely uphill). I even let the small group around me put a little distance between us. I could have closed down the gap, but I knew this was most definitely not a sprint. So, I finished at the back of a group of five--four of which were individuals. My time? 47:50... I was pretty content with that.
10k mountain bike
I knew this was going to be a tough leg. It was much harder than I thought. The elevation change was tough--lots of big hills, some of which also had sand that made riding extremely difficult. The only time I had ever "mashed the gnar" (that's for you, Evan) was prior to my buddy Jesson's wedding last year, which was considerably easier only because of the superior bicycle I was riding and--I can't stress this enough--the clip pedals. I discovered very quickly that riding a mountain bike without clip pedals is just tough. The hills are just awful. Hear that again: awful. Also the shocks, while good, were not good enough to save my back from taking a serious beating.
As the ride went along I felt worse and worse. My back was tightening up. Two guys who I had passed earlier came back and passed me, and I was focusing mostly on not being in pain. I never thought I would have a fast time, but my time was becoming slow, slower and slowest. This leg just never seemed to end. When I finally came out of the woods I was just so thankful to get off the bike that it didn't really matter how fast I finished, but the clock showed I was slow. Right around 0:38:00.
25k road bike
Remember the state of my bike? Well, yes, it sucked. I mean, I'm a good road bicyclist. I'm no cycling star; it's not like I'm going to average 24 mph like some insane triathletes do, but 20 mph is in the picture on a good day. Also, the Ngede course is absolutely made for my strengths. It is filled with short little hills that are absolutely in my wheelhouse. I could have gained a lot of time here (last year when I raced this course as part of a relay I finished with the second fastest time on the longer 40k bike course in spite of crashing and losing 2-3 minutes fixing my bike... and my injuries). Unfortunately, my slipping gears killed any chance of a similar performance this year. I wasn't going to empty the tank--what with the tough trail run yet to come--but I planned on having a very solid, 19+ mph ride. That simply was impossible given the mechanical issues.
So I was a little frustrated. But here's the thing: I still passed people. I passed one of the guys who had passed me on the mountain bike. My time wasn't fast, but it wasn't a complete disaster. I didn't keep up a 19 mph pace, but I did average 18 mph over hills... so considering the situation I wasn't unhappy. But on the other hand, I expended A LOT more energy getting that 18 mph than I otherwise would have. So, that's all I have to say about that. This leg: 51:30.
"5k" trail run
The first thing you need to know about this is the "" around 5k. This was NOT 5k. It's funny/cruel that the two big races I did this year--the TRF tri and Ngede--both advertised their closing runs as "5k"s and neither was particularly close to accurate. The TRF tri was actually 3.28 miles--or 5.3k. Ngede was even more cruel. I was told afterwards that it was more like 6.2k. That's a whole freaking 1.2k extra... over AWFUL hills.
About a half mile into the "run" I realized there was no way I would be doing anything approaching running up some of those hills. I have talked with long distance trail runners before who told me that many people walk up steep hills to save their legs, and I quickly decided that was a good philosophy. At first I was walking up sharp hills--anything that looked over about 4%--then it slowly became every hill big or small, long or short. This course was incredibly hard. It would have been a tough route if it was the only thing I was running, but after three events it was deathly hard.
I felt miserable. My only brief encouragement was that I wasn't getting passed. In fact, I passed two people in front of me over the course and I saw two more a bit ahead though I never could make the pass. Clearly, this was miserable for more than just me. It was almost cruel. Scratch that, it was. I finished right around 36:00 at an average pace of 9:22. That seems slow... and yet, not at all. I walked a lot. My "run" was more like a painful slog. I was just happy to be done. So happy. It was just incredible to no longer be moving forward, whether on a bike or my two feet.
I finished in 2:59:10.
Three hours was a goal of mine, but I realized on the final leg that the time no longer mattered. Neither did it matter who I finished before or after. All that mattered was doing it. After the finish line I struggled to cool down. I overheated like crazy. The humidity meant that little of my sweat was being wicked away. Eventually, I got ice packs on the neck, forehead and arm pits and slowly started to come back to normal. Food started to look attractive again. I was starting to come around.
So, the big question is what's next. Truthfully, I don't know. I'm not sure if I'll be back for Ngede next year, or if there will be another big challenge on the horizon. My next race is in two weeks. There is a half marathon run/bike/rollerblade from Hallock to Lancaster on September 8 with an additional 10k option. I think I will probably run the 10k... or possibly make up for my poor cycling performance by crushing the bike ride. Other than that, there are no firm races on the calendar. I plan on improving my fitness over the winter, then we'll see what next year has in store!
Til then, happy duathlon-ing!
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