So how did Operation Go For Broke go? Goal achieved. Surprisingly successful day. Pretty damn pleased with myself. And filled with gratitude for local races with tri friends to chase. Now for the deep dive into how I blew myself up on the bike and found a way to run the run.
Be Powerful First, Then Fast
I found myself in an odd position. Where were all the women at?!?! Seriously, folks, the field was overwhelmingly male. I found myself waiting in the swim corral with 4 men and 1 woman from On Pace Triathlon Training Club (one of the local tri clubs). And I was known as the strongest swimmer. What the what?!?!!
I’ve been in a swimming funk for awhile now. I lost all swimming mojo after Coaching Camp soon before 70.3 Chattanooga, when I was brave and got in the Endless Pool for The Coach to provide feedback on what wasn’t working in my swim. That was … so forking out of my comfort zone. Not surprisingly, I let the critique throw my brain into a tailspin. Overthink much, J-Ho??
Five weeks after that experience, I’m in the swim corral talking about peeing in my wetsuit at IMLOU 2018 and I innocently ask one of the guys, “So what are your thoughts?” Without skipping a beat, he said, “I’m thinking my strategy is to draft off you the entire swim.” Another guy chimes in with “Heck, I’m hoping to hold onto a leg and have her pull me along.” I thought to myself, “Fork, they are right. I’m the strongest of today’s group…on the swim. Yeah but, you’ve lost your swimming mojo.”
That's when I moved up in the swim corral. Operation Go For Broke is NOT about playing small and staying in your nice, warm, tidy comfort zone of swimming easy peasy with friends on race day. Nope, that’s not an option today. Not gonna do it.
Photo Credited to Lesa Jasinski, MSE Racing
Photo Credited to Rob Smejkal, MSE Racing
Got busy swimming and went out too hard, collected myself at the first buoy and settled in, counting the buoys. There was some traffic until the sprint turnaround and then at the olympic turnaround. More touching than at 70.3 Chattanooga. I kept my arms wide, told myself that person(s) was zigzagging and that I no longer swim like that. And then I found myself swimming with the strongest swimmer in my group. Yep, that fired up my competitiveness. I could see him every time I went to breathe. Bubble, bubble, breathe, still there, bubble, bubble, breathe, still there. I focused on my stroke, reaching far out in front and keeping the elbows high, finishing far back, And I pushed the effort up a notch. When wind made for a choppy back half, I took a mouthful of lake water and took an extra breath. Still there. I decided to surge ahead and try to break away from him. Bubble, bubble, breathe, not there, bubble, bubble, breathe, not there, bubble, bubble, breathe, THERE! I decided this was actually a great thing and made him my rabbit on the swim. I’d surge, he’d surge, I’d surge, he’d surge.
After making the turn toward the swim out at the last buoy, I pushed the effort up another notch and went all out. Traditionally I keep my competitiveness to myself. Today I yelled to my friend Beard, "I beat Larry out of the water." I looked back and said, "Oh shit, I've got to go.” Larry was all of TWO SECONDS behind me.
Win the Swim to Lose Transition
Yep, Larry passed me in transition while I got gravel out of my toes and off my feet. I'm ok with that because it prompted me to hurry and get out on the bike. And it seemed fitting that I’d eat crow on the heels of my strong swim.
Check out the “Extreme Challenge” part of the Innsbrook Triathlon. In my mind it was the gravel hills. This is from transition (on the left) to the top of the dam (on the right) where the bike and run courses started. Oh and then there were the 3 gravel climbs on the run course back up to the dam. We’ll get to that in a bit. First, the real fun of the day…THE BIKE!!!
“I Get to Do
Stupid Things
Today”
Photo Credited to Rob Smejkal, MSE Racing
It took awhile for the legs to get onboard. I found myself riding like I used to, going for high cadence as if that were magically efficient. When I tuned into my body, I felt all this was doing was elevating my heart rate without yielding increased speed. "Stop that!” I barked at myself, “Go back to doing you. Comfy cadence with strong full pedal strokes."
That competitive fire got going when a guy passed me early on. Operation Go For Broke is NOT about playing small and staying in your nice, warm, tidy comfort zone of telling myself that getting passed on the bike is “as it should be because I’m a strong swimmer and weak cyclist.” Nope, that’s not an option today. Not gonna do it.
I passed him. He passed me. “Oh hell no, not today,” I said to myself. I passed him. I looked back and couldn’t see him. I passed a young woman on an uphill with flat pedals. “Good morning,” I said to her. And to myself I said, “Remember all those people on flat pedals who passed you on race day.” And then she passed me back … still on the uphill. Eating crow again, I said to her, “Left turn ahead.” And then … wait for it … wait for it … the guy passed me AGAIN. This time it was definite. I had burnt my biscuits.
I watched as he got smaller and smaller on the horizon. And I remembered what I said earlier this year about Lionel Sanders, a pro triathlete. “Someone teach that guy how to swim efficiently, please.” I wondered who Mister 159 was. He seemed even in a helmet and sunglasses familiar to me. The Universe loves me. It sent me a great man whom I did a swim analysis several weeks ago with to be Mister 159. Well done, Jason, well done. If I hadn’t been sucking wind, I would have yelled, “Go, Jason, drop me like a bad habit.”
I set my sights on chasing down Miss Flat Pedals. I refocused on my hydration and fueling plan (a bottle of skratch with nuun caffeine every 30min, swig of EFS Liquid Shot every 15min, licks of Base Salt every 5ish miles). I’ve learned the hard way how important nailing your bike hydration and fueling is. I knew if I was going to catch Miss Flat Pedals that I had to get back on track and not get distracted. In the back half of the 25-mile ride, I saw her. I was patient. I stayed steady and strong. I passed her and debated what to say. “Good work, finish strong,” fell out of my mouth. I heard a simple “You too.” Ah, that’s the spirit of triathlon right there.
With 10 miles left, my true bike rabbit showed himself. I heard someone behind me say, “On Pace.” I replied with “I don’t know who this is. I can’t see you.” BAM!!! Alan rolls up and passes me on a climb. I was so jazzed to see one of my On Pace buddies finally. And I gave chase. The descent was a screamer and I let my joy loose. This is HUGE for me. After my wreck on a big descent in Babler State Park, I braked on more descents than not and would get through them by yelling, “I’m ok!!” over and over … until I’d give the brakes a little squeeze. Operation Go For Broke is NOT about playing small and staying in your nice, warm, tidy comfort zone of giving away free speed on race day. Nope, that’s not an option today. Not gonna do it. And damn if that wasn’t so freaking fun! It was so fun I told the entire world, including the volunteers at the approaching intersection. God bless Beard’s girlfriend for knowing it was me well in advance of seeing me.
The next climb I looked up and saw Alan had dropped his chain and was getting off to fix it. When I rolled by saying, “I hate when that happens,” I said to myself, “See, J-Ho, even strong cyclists jack up their shifting at times. No one is perfect. Shit happens.” Whoa, whom have I become?
I looked down at the bike computer to see we had all of 8 miles to go. “Now’s your chance to widen the gap. Get busy, J-Ho, gooooooo.” I biked hard. I got busy.
I got caught. With 6 miles to go, Alan pulled in front of me and I settled in behind him. J-Ho 2.0 said, "See, you have no business passing Alan. This is where you belong. Tuck in behind him and do not pass him." J-Ho 5.0 answered with "That's bullshit. That's who you used to be. We're done playing small. You have no choice. It's Operation Go For Broke. You have to pass him and drop him right now."
While rolling up beside him on Stracks Church, I said, "Today I do stupid things, like pass Alan on the bike." He smiled and we both knew he'd be catching me on the run. I geared down and floored it. I felt like a freight train engine, so strong, so powerful, a workhorse getting the job done.
I came flying onto the dam with a speed check sign flashing up … 22mph. "Holy shit!” I yelled in front of spectators of all ages. “I'm speeding inside the resort!!” Technically the speed limit is 23mph, but that’s splitting hairs when I’m setting bike speed PRs. As I approached transition, I yelled, “I'm coming in hot!! There’s no telling where this bike will go.” I dismounted at the line and asked MSE Lesa if she could see Alan. She said no. I knew it was only a matter of time before he arrived and definitively dropped me.
Win The Bike
To Be Dropped For Good
I know, you’re sensing a theme here too. The Universe loves repetition.
After hobbling down the gravel hill to the gravel transition, I struggled to rack my bike. My favorite physician’s husband, having completed his race, reached over and put my bike on the rack with a calm, “Here, let me help you.” Instead of explaining USAT rules, I said, “Thank you, David.” and flopped down on the gravel to put on my running shoes.
And that’s when it happened. Alan came into transition.
I thanked him for being my bike rabbit as my goal was to blow myself up on the bike. The man called me “fast.” And then he was gone.
I was mentally scattered. I grabbed my frozen bottle of water and my handheld bottle of Skratch and nuun. Looking at my transition, I had a feeling I was forgetting something. I grabbed my hat and race belt. Nope, still feel like I’m forgetting something. I said out loud to myself, “Oh for fuck’s sake, J-Ho. Just go already.”
And there on the ground stayed my big Spring fruit and oatmeal, my tried and true run fuel.
Finding Ways
to Run the Run
Photo Credited to Rob Smejkal, MSE Racing
Up the gravel hill to the dam, my brain couldn’t figure out how to put on the race belt with both hands full. “Run,” a volunteer told me. “I need a third arm. Really just the hand,” I said, “Run, J-Ho, run and figure this shit out.” I remembered to stow the frozen bottle in center jersey pocket. Hat and belt on, I got down to business.
Problem: Mental fatigue. Solution: Caffeine and calories!! Caffeinated Spring to the rescue. Drained the handheld in the first 1.5 miles. Shit, I should have drank that 4th bottle on the bike. No worries, aid station ahead for refilling bottle with water and my supply of skratch and nuun caffeine. Shotgunned my stash of pickle juice and got back to running.
The grassy uneven trail was hard on my proverbial achilles heel, commonly known as left ankle and arch. Operation Go For Broke is NOT about playing small and staying in your nice, warm, tidy comfort zone of walking, trotting or otherwise going easy peasy to avoid pain. Nope, that’s not an option today. Not gonna do it.
So I ran. It wasn’t fast. But I was running. I didn’t like it. But I was running. I distracted myself with encouraging my On Pace peeps. Alan and I shared the suffering high-five. You know the light touching of hands as you run by each other unable to say a word.
Then the dry heaving started. Problem: Stomach revolting. Solution: Dry heave and keep pushing calories and fluids. Melted bottle of ice, EFS Liquid Shot and Base Salt (handy that they were still in my jersey pocket) to the rescue.
Photo Credited to Rob Smejkal, MSE Racing
Ah, there she is. The infamous hill, out of the valley and up to the dam. And I started walking. To be fair, I had planned to walk the first one and that would be the only walking I’d do on the run. "Hey!! What are you doing?!?!” I turned to see what the commotion was all about and saw Laurie (we met biking the Highway F hills during Ultramax 2018). My answer: "FUCK!!!" She countered, "You know you like that hill,” she said, “Now run!!" God bless people who hold you accountable. Thank you, Universe, for sending Laurie to call my ass out.
I ran up the next 2 climbs and tossed the empty ice bottle at my car. It's not littering if you have to run by your car 4 times in 6 miles and will pick it up on your way out of the parking area. Same as Doctor David helping rack my bike. It’s not a penalty if there are no USAT officials on course to give you said penalty. Shrug.
MSE Tonya greeted me at the top of the dam, asking if I was on my second loop. I couldn't speak but held up one finger (my pointed finger, people). Then I saw a couple walking back to the parking lot. And I heard, “Good job. Keep going.” A second after running by them, I realized they were John Brandt’s parents. I think of him, a high school triathlete who lost his life after being hit by a car during a long ride (a century I think) with a buddy, every time I see a turtle on the road. I yelled, “Go, John Brandt.” And I immediately hoped they knew I meant this as “Your son is not forgotten.”
I kept trucking all the way across the dam to the turnaround near transition, which incidentally was really close to the finish line. Focus, J-Ho, eyes on the prize…aid station ahead. I tossed water on my head and chugged another.
God bless the dam and its flat pavement. It felt sooooo good on my left arch. I was able to run better, stronger, maybe even faster the second loop than the first. I chalk that up to pushing the EFS Liquid Shot and Base Salt.
While refilling the handheld at the Chris & Karl aid station, she kept saying to me, “You’re doing so good. Really.” I got back to finishing the grassy uneven trail section wondering what the heck she meant because I was seeing people even less frequently now. I told myself to focus on getting back to the gravel road. I eagerly watched my total mileage grow knowing I was almost off that hot mess of trail. As I came out of the woods, a high school athlete asked where the turnaround was. I told him to keep following the grassy trail to the aid station and that’s the turnaround. Then it occurred to me that he had to have been on his second loop and should have known where the turnaround was from doing the loop once already.
I was so grateful for gravel road and then suddenly I was at the climbs back up to the dam. While walking up that first climb, I looked up to see the high school tri club coach. Instead of yelling at me to run, he asked if I had seen a kid in an orange kit. I told him yes and that he was a bit farther back as I saw him when I was exiting and he was entering the woods. I was relieved someone was concerned and watching for the young man.
I walked up this time faster than the first time. More belching and dry heaving. Nevertheless I told myself, "Harder. HARDER!!!" I focused on fast feet and breathing. Then the route went to the finish line on the gravel descent back to transition. Goal became go hard but do not slip on the gravel. I could give the cheering spectators only a thumbs up. I crossed the finish with more dry heaving. With my hands on my knees, I took off my own timing strip and then heard, "Here's your medal." I looked up and saw Grete standing before me. Damn if John and Grete didn't surprise me by coming out to see me finish.
“That Person Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.”
I swam hard, biked like I was doing the aqua bike, and found ways (yes, multiple) to run the challenging course despite the sun and heat (God bless the lower humidity). No med tent. No puking. Operation Go For Broke completed.
While standing there socializing, Sally told me they are calling my name, that I’d placed. That shit never happens for me. So my response was “For real? There’s got to be a mistake.” I indulged them and walk up to the podium, pointing at the lowest step labeled 3. “Where are Number 1 and 2? I’m third, right?” Master Timer said, “No, you are first and Number 2 and 3 are not here.” In true J-Ho form, I yelled for all to hear, “You must be drunk. Triple check the data.” Ever patient, Josh said it was indeed true. Ever skeptical of good things, I asked him how many people were in my age group (I didn’t even realize the age groups were by decade at this race). He said four and I came to accept that the person being unreasonable was indeed me, myself and I.
“That person does not live here anymore.” That mantra came to me during a challenging swim workout sometime this winter. J-Ho iOS 1.0 does not live here anymore. Neither does J-Ho iOS 2.0 and 3.0. Nor even J-Ho iOS 4.0. We’ve leveled up, folks!!!
Just like The Queen, commonly known as Queeny Park, the challenging routes and courses are the most rewarding and fulfilling. It’s not about my finish time nor my place among my age group. It’s about doing hard things. It’s about finding a way over and over and over again It’s about facing the next challenge and the next one and the next one. It’s about playing chess, knowing every move doesn’t have to be perfect and that few moves are unredeemable.