This weekend I went to Appleton because it was the Green Bay Duathalon weekend.
For those who need review, a Duathalon is a 1.1 mile run, followed by a 31.1
mile bike ride, followed by a 3.1 mile run. Why do we do this? Because we like
to prove that we can. Because we have various degrees of insanity. Because we
like to be cold, sweaty, and generally miserable. There is no why. There is
just do.
Actually, because I can pretty easily do all of these things, I like to do it to see how far I can push myself. You see athletes on TV all of the time pushing themselves to extremes. (Well, maybe not the Green Bay Packers last Monday...that was pitiful). But in everyday life, how far do you push your physicality? How far can you walk before you legs hurt? How far can you bike before your butt feels flat? These are entertaining questions to me.
Last year, at this time, I would not have thought I could ride my bike 30 miles. Now, I think I could do 40 or more. But I think I need a new bike. Off topic, but true. And a new iPod. Also off topic, but also true.
Anyway, when I was sent the email about the Green Bay Duathalon, it was immediately after my Fox Cities Triathalon. I was exhausted and sick, and the thought of 30 miles of bike ride made me break in a coughing fit. (Or maybe it was the pneumonia.) But as I recovered, I returned to my training routine and found myself having difficulty getting movitivated without a goal like a Triathalon to train for.
So I kept returning to the idea of the Duathalon. 30 miles was only a little more than the 22 of the Fox Cities Triathalon. I ride my bike 10 miles from my home to work 2 days a week, so I can do that pretty easily. The course was not hilly (according to the information provided at the time). It was a good time of year, not too cold, not too hot, before the snow flew and the fall colors would be good.
So, I talked myself into it. I sent in the money and announced to my family that I would be competing. Running a 5K was something I had neglected in my training, so I had to ease back into that. I ran on the bike path near my house. I hadn't run since the Triathalon (Late June), so the first 4 miles I ran on my house in early August was excruitiating. My butt hurt. My calves hurt. My thighs hurt. But as I continued to run at least 1 time a week, things began to improve. Near the end of September, I was making good time on my run (less than 10 minutes a mile) and could ratchet it up near the end. My body stopped hurting so much, and I felt better.
Of course, the second part was the biking. I live right on a bike trail, so I spent my Sunday afternoons working up to 30 miles. My bike odometer is stuck on kilometers, so I figured that 30 miles is roughly 50 kilometers. At first it was painful to bike for 2 1/2 hours or 3 hours to get that, but my bike path is not paved and I had no motivation to go fast on these training rides. It's different when you are in a race. Towards the end, 30 miles wasn't so bad. I could maintain a speed of 24-27 km/hour (16-18 miles/hour) so I thought I might be able to get my time close to 2 hours for the bike portion.
I'll never been a competitive athlete. I just go too slow. But I'm not in this to win, I'm in it to finish.
I went up on Friday and spent some of the weekend with my family. Saw the incredibly cute nephews, spun them around on the front lawn. Saw my sister's very nicely (almost) remodeled cabin. Picked up my race materials, got my bike checked because it was mandatory.
A word about the bike check. I have an old mountain bike. It's fine. It's big. It's heavy. It's a commuters dream. I could bike through snow, rain, probably even hail. (Okay, maybe not hail) It is not a racing bike. Others might sneer at it, but it works. They put a little air in the tires, but that is all it needed.
I went back home and was just tired. I knew I had to get to Lambeau Field pretty early on Sunday, so I went to bed at 9:30. I woke up several times throughout the night and woke up before my alarm the next morning. (5:20AM)
Got dressed in my bike leggings, a t-shirt and my sweatshirt. Mom made me oatmeal and coffee and I had a banana and part of a donut. Before the Triathalon in June, I kept having to visit the bathroom because I was so nervous. I hoped I wouldn't be like that again. I was on the road around 5:45.
I hate driving in the dark. I hate driving when you have to use your defrost because otherwise your windshield fogs up. I thought I'd mention that because both happened that morning. It was cold and dark, and my only solace was that not many people are insane enough to be driving up Hwy. 41 at 6AM. The only people who were all had gorgeous racing bikes strapped to their car, and I had an inkling where they were all going. The drive was uneventful. I got to Lambeau Field and started to unload.
It was really really cold. I was glad I had neglected to remove my winter coat from my car when preparing for this weekend because the sweatshirt I was wearing was too light. I was even more glad to find a pair of gloves in the pocket of my winter coat. I didn't have a hat, but I was glad for the gloves.
I rolled my bike out and to the parking lot behind the Don Hutson Center, where the bike racks were. This is known as the transition area, and it is where you transition between the run and bike and bike and run portions. I forgot my water bottles and had to back to my car to get them.
I then realized I had to go to the bathroom. I had such problems finding a bathroom that I (briefly) considered walking to a nearby Express gas station. However, I found a Midwest Sports Events person who pointed me in the direction of the porta-potties. The line for them was 15 minutes long. There were only 4 of them. Let's see...500 competitors and 4 portapotties. The Resch Center wasn't open for bathrooms, only for registrations and bike checks. Poorly managed. If I were in charge.... it would be different. Some racers used the nearby Best Western bathroom, but I felt a little weird about that. So I waited in line and eventually did my thing. I only had to go once, compared with about 4 times before the Triathalon. What can I say? When I'm nervous, I have to pee.
By the time I was done, I only had a few minutes until 7AM, when the Duathalon was supposed to start. I grabbed by iPod and threw off my winter jacket. I kept my gloves on though. I was in the third wave to run. Waves are how they stagger the start of the race so people don't trample each other. 1st wave would start their 1.1 mile run at 7:00, 2nd wave at 7:01 and my wave at 7:02. Waves were approximately 100 people each. I stretched until my wave was up.
The run was around Lambeau Field, but I can't say I paid too close attention. I'm a slow runner. Methodical. But when you get in a pack, you feel compelled to try harder. So when I heard the "beep" that they use as a start gun, I ran quickly, but stayed to the left side. Others ran by me, but I was running pretty good, much faster than I usually do to start out. I usually start out running a 11 minute mile and then go faster near the end, ending at under a 10 minute mile. I knew from the beginning of this one that I was going to end up doing quick one from the outset. People passed me, this is true, but for me, I was doing outstanding. Turns out, from the final stats posted here http://www.itiming.com/media/gb_du04/gb_du_age04.pdf that I would end up running a 9:50 mile. (I'm 34 years old) Very good for me. Better than my other runs. Like I said, you really get motivated to move when you are trapped in amongst other fast movers.
But I felt it when I got to the bike transition area. I was shaking. My fingers were fumbling when I tried to unlock my bike. (I lock my bike because it doesn't have a kickstand and it won't fall over if the tire doesn't move.) They didn't seem to want to grasp my sunglasses. My water bottle didn't want to open. I had to pry it open with my teeth. Most of the other racers had left in advance of me, but I was just so out of sorts that I didn't care. I'm not in this to win, I'm in it to finish. According to itiming (which is based on a chip strapped around my left ankle) I took almost 3 minutes to get out of that transition area. A vast improvement over my Triathalon transition of almost 10 minutes, but I didn't have a life-threatening swim to recover from either. I was just shaking so bad.
Once I got my bike out and on the road, I started to relax. We headed out Holmgren
Way (a street that parallels Oneida, which kind of goes "behind" most
of the Main Drag sort of establishments on the way into Green Bay. ) The good
thing about having a run before the bike is it thins out a lot of the racers
from the normal participants. The people near me were going slow too. Actually,
a little too slow. As I started along, I found myself able to pass a lot of
them pretty easily. I was going between 27 - 30 kilometers an hour. (18 - 20
mph). It helped that it was flat, it helped that it was calm, and it helped
that I was still hyper from the run.
The route left Green Bay and went across the bridge into De Pere. There were a lot of cops and volunteers to hold back traffic for the race. I always try to wave or say thank you to them because it really is a thankless job. If I didn't like getting up that early to race, can you imagine how it must be to just stand and point that early? As I rounded a corner into DePere, I saw a racer laying next to his bike on the ground with a cop directing traffic around him. An ambulance siren was coming. Thanking my lucky stars that wasn't me, I moved on.
The course paralleled the Fox River but it was extremely foggy, so we could see very little of the river. It was cold, and my sweatshirt wasn't terribly thick. I could not imagine how people who raced in their biking shorts or biking jerseys must have felt. I was chilly, but I knew that once I got a little sweaty and once the sun got a little higher that I would feel okay.
As I proceeded down the course (which was terribly scenic, lots of fall colors) I was struck by the grand houses and by the smell of manure. If I spent that kind of money for those kind of houses, I think I would want to have someplace that didn't smell like that. But that is just me. The route took us down this lovely scenic little country road. Lots of colorful trees and lots of big houses. But then we were directed to a highway. I think this is probably because the rich people who owned the homes in some of these scenic roads didn't want bicyclists on them. So, we'd be directed on and off the highway. The highway was very boring. The scenic roads were much more interesting.
Throughout all of this, I was going great guns. This is when I was passing people left and right. I feel kind of weird passing people, as I'm always afraid they'll get offended or something. It's dumb. I don't get offended by people passing me. About the 10th mile, I started to realize I couldn't keep up this pace as my right hamstring started to ache. So I had to slow. And some of the previous people that I had passed caught up. And it was okay. The course had become sort of hilly, so I alternated between 18-20 and 23 - 25 kilometers/hour. (12-16 mph). The fog had become to lift over the river, so we could see the other side. I glimpsed bicycles on the other side. The thing I also noticed about the other side was how much higher it was than my side. That meant a big incline coming up soon.
I knew that the turn around to go back would happen over the bridge at Wrightstown, and I also knew that the Wrightstown bridge was kind of sloped up, so I had a pretty good idea where the incline would be. I also knew that there was a rest stop in Wrightstown somewhere, and that is where I might be able to find Gatorade. Convinced the ache in my leg might just be a lack of fluids, I sipped on my water bottle and hoped to get a little Gatorade in Wrightstown to give me a few electrolytes.
I kept looking up the river (which we were now pedalling right next to) for the river, and not seeing the Wrightstown bridge. At the marker for 15 miles, I knew we were about half way done. Where was that stupid bridge? I kept pedalling. At about 18 miles, the bridge came into view. Evidently, the meandering route we had taken to get out of Green Bay was going to be more direct on the tail end of our journey. I was glad, because my right hamstring really hurt now. As I turned onto the Wrightstown bridge, I was glad to see the church on the other side where the rest stop was.
I don't mind hills too much, because I live near Madison, which is built on many hills. I like standing up while pedaling too, so getting up the incline wasn't bad. I was really happy to see the church rest stop. They gave out water bottles, and cups of Gatorade. Some wonderful volunteer gave me a Zone bar. These are little chocolate flavored chunks of energy. They also taste like cardboard. I ate half of that, but gulped down the Gatorade. And coughed. And coughed. And coughed. Another woman stopped for a Zone bar and Gatorade, and she kept coughing too. The warm air in our lungs didn't like the cold air outside, I guess.
Pedaling after the rest stop was better. My leg didn't hurt as much. The view was more scenic on this side, because it was higher. The homes on this side were bigger and grander. (Lost Dauphin is the name of the road. Even the name of the road is grander). I remember being told by a friend from college that Lost Dauphin has a fair number of NFL players living on or near it. I'd believe it. These are mansions, folks. Sitting on hills overlooking the Fox River. If I wanted to buy a mansion, I don't think I'd buy it on the Fox River. Maybe out by High Cliff, where you can swim. But swimming in the Fox River? Yuck. It smelled a lot better over on that side though, so that is why the houses are so much better on that side....they are paying not to smell anything.
The sun was higher and it was starting to warm up. And the course wasn't as hilly. As we continued down Lost Dauphin Road, we ended up entering DePere. It was a more direct route back into town, and I soon found myself back on Holmgren Way. I had slowed to 23-24 km/hour (15-16 mph). As we continued on, I remembered that the course was 31.1 miles, so it would be more than 50 KM on my odometer. I was feeling pretty good.
I stood and pedaled standing up and my leg wasn't bothering me at all. I passed a bunch of people who were clearly struggling to complete the bike leg. I felt pretty good. I saw the next leg runners and realized that I wasn't done yet....there was still the run. 3.1 miles to be exact.
I got into the transition area in just over 2 hours. Very good time for me. Remember my training took me 2 1/2 to 3 hours to complete 30 miles on my bike. I really must have been moving during the race. They had water for those that needed it, but I felt pretty good, so I only drank a little before heading out on the run. By this time, I didn't need the gloves anymore...it was warm.
My legs were tired but didn't really hurt. I ran a good portion of the 1st
mile, but then took a break because I had a lot of 
snot in my nose and needed
to get it out. It's the human condition. You sweat because your body needs
to release water and cool you. I think you get snot while exercising to try
to encourge you to breath. (It's just a theory.) Of course, I didn't have a
tissue or anything, so I did a very unladylike thing and plugged one nostril
and blew. Plugged the other nostril and blew. What can you do? You got to get
it out somehow. I could breath a lot easier once I was all "cleared up" and proceeded
to trot at my slow run. I was tired, and I alternated my run with short walks.
I did most of the 2nd mile at a run, and saw we were coming up to the Resch
Center.
I thought we were almost done. But then I saw the sign that said 2 miles. Dammit. They were going to have us run around Lambeau Field again. That would be the last mile. Talk about a let down. I walked a little, then convinced myself that I could run the last mile. I brought myself to a trot and started around the stadium. I must admit I did slow a couple of times to catch my breath before starting up my trot again, but I did end up running a great deal of the last mile.
And when I turned from Lombardi Avenue to Oneida, and saw the turn that would take me to the finish line, I was very happy. Relieved. Tired. I continued to trot and made it across the finish line in just over 32 minutes for the last leg. 2:54 for the whole thing. Pretty good.
They take pictures of you during the race to sell to you later. (Of course, people who are saavy enough with computers can figure out a way to get them from the website for free.(he he he). They also try to write your numbers down as you cross the finish line to keep track of who crossed in what order. My number was pinned to my back. So my picture will probably be of me turning to show my number to the official at the finish line while running. It promises to be a very odd photo. As soon as I have one, I'll post it.
(Pictures added 10/27. I told you the picture of me crossing the finish line would be strange.)
Sara.