My Vineman experience began by investigating new “local”
triathlons. I was interested in doing
another Ironman (as I aged up this year into the 50’s and had planned this
since my last IM). Vineman is the oldest
independent full triathlon. It was
purported to be a friendly, well run triathlon and it completely lived up to
its reputation. It is also beautiful,
cheaper and more available than the Ironman branded triathlons. What did I have to lose? It sounded like the tri for me. I signed up before my job started and started
training.
Training when one is not working is easy. Juggling a 50-60 hour work week, sleep,
single living, and training for IM is not so easy. After struggling with trying to figure out a
good training scheme and honestly, not having enough time to even plan my
training, I settled on trying out a trainer.
Mimi Winsberg is a local psychiatrist and IM triathlete/mother in her
40’s who has celiac dz (gluten intolerance and thus GI issues). She was a great inspiration, source of advice
and support. I would recommend her to
anyone seeking an online/phone coach. It was fun to follow her races and know
that she “got it.”
Finally, the day before the race arrived. I mentally planned everything, down to where
I would store the car key, what socks went in which bag, back up goggles. I thought I had it down and would go for a
quick ride the afternoon prior. Of
course, nothing goes according to plan.
I was late leaving SF and had to park for a while so I locked my bike to
the bike rack, planning that I would ride later that day and unlock it…
By the time I left SF with my sister( who has recently
undergone mastectomy for breast cancer) and my niece, 9 year old Alma, the
traffic leaving the city was intense.
The 1.5 hour drive took more like 3. I arrived at registration for the
penultimate race debrief, set up my run transition and left at nearly
eight. No time for a bike, much less
cooking dinner. I had a delightful pasta dish in Healdsburg and got to the
rental cottage at 9. I had invited
another mother and child pair for Friday night to both help Margaret and help
entertain Alma while I was gone. They
arrived at 9:30. It was closing in on 11
when I finally drifted off to sleep to the sound of the Olympic ceremonies in
the next room.
I woke up at 4, packed and drove to the race start 45
minutes away. I got there a good hour
before the race start, despite the traffic.
I was ready! Except when I
realized my bike was still locked to the bike rack and the key was at the
cottage… I called Margaret (who is not allowed to drive yet) who woke Carol,
the other adult. She agreed to deliver
the key. 20 minutes later they called
again to make sure they had the right key before leaving. I knew then I would miss the start. I checked with transition: I could bring my
bike in until the transition closed. I
set up what I could of my bike transition and got my body marked before running
back to the parking lot (1/2 mile down the road from the start). The key arrived after the start.
I am so lucky to have been able to race at all. I am lucky I invited folks to support my
sister. They wound up supporting me as
well. I am lucky that I got my bike to
transition before it closed. I got to the
start… my goggles had fallen out in my racing back and forth. They gave me an extra pair. I asked if I could race… “Just get in and go”
they said. So I got in the water,
started my Garmin, waited a few more seconds for the last fellow to round the buoy
and off I went. I had the advantage of
not having a mass start, the disadvantage of having no one to draft and having
to swim by the clots of the slowest swimmers.
Only a few people passed me. The water was warm. It was about 3-5 ft (I
am guessing) deep and lovely. After the
first loop, my goggles were so foggy, and the fog on the river was dense enough
it was hard to see. The second loop
seemed to whiz by and soon I was arriving at the finish. I stood up, pushed the
lap button on my swim time (1:06?) really?
I had just finished my fastest 2.4 mile swim. I knew my time would not be reflected on the
official results.
My bike transition area was a little bit of a mess, having
racked my bike and tossed things down so I could make it to the start before
they could say I was too late. My transition was slow. I could not find my
gloves. I shoved the excess of my gear into the transition bag. Oh no. GI
issues hit… (stress is a trigger for me). A trip to the porta potty before running out
of transition.
The bike ride is a beautiful, no, stunning, course. Rolling
hills, wine country, untraveled roads.
After only about 8 miles, I found a biker down. I stopped.
He had what I think was a corneal abrasion and needed medics.
Fortunately the race officials on the motorbikes called for them. Apparently,
he had given the medics an \ ophthalmic anesthetic before the race! I got back on my bike and continued
racing. I am really proud of my bike as
I think I raced better than I ever have on my bike as well. Gi issues meant I needed to stop once more at
mile 18 and wait in line.
The course covers many miles of rough surfaced roads. This means flats for many. I stopped for one woman who forgot to pack
her CO2 cartridge, and later another who had flatted both front and rear with
no tubes, asking for 650C tubes. I stopped again. Each stop was only a few minutes, and I
caught back up to many of the folks I had previously passed. I kept thinking that I should “Pay It
Forward.” Many folks had let me race today: the key deliverer, the transition
fellow, the goggle loaner, the race officials. I hoped I could keep other folks
racing too. I kept the effort and attitude of race throughout despite the
official clock. I had one more pp line
wait on the ride at around mile 70, but my GI issues seemed much better.
The run is three loops on quiet farm roads. Lovely.
I was lucky it was only in the upper 80’s and not in the 90’s or
worse. My run started at 3:30. The first
loop went well. The second loop was
going well and I had only a bit of foot pain, and not as terrible as my 25k
trail runner earlier that year. My GI
issues had resulted in 2 stops, but long waits. I kept running and racing. On
my way back, I heard that someone was confused and dehydrated. I stopped to
help. He was young (30’s?) the smell of
fresh vomit permeating him. Volunteers
near, medics called, sublingual potato chip and coke sips… and I was off and
running again after only a few minutes.
Somehow the combination of heat and the memory of the odor made me feel
sympathetically queasy. (I routinely take care of folks who vomit, so I think
it is odd that it effected me). I
thought I would soon toss my own cookies if I kept running. I walked. Drank
coke, then thought : GI issues = potassium loss and downed some bananas. Run. Walk, Run and eventually I was back
running. This time for good… Just putting one foot in front of the other, and
making it to the next aid station. Last loop went well. As soon as the sun went down and the ice down
my shirt and in my sunscreen sleeves and shorts was no longer required, I felt
like a million bucks, picked up the pace and finished.
The spectators on the course were tremendous. Many telling
folks they would be there for them until the close of the race at 11pm. The folks I had invited to help Margaret met
me and drove me back to the car and I had dinner waiting for me on my
return. The little girls had made their
folks “swear” to wake them when I returned so they could hug me. It was a lovely ending to a delightful race.
I finished, that was my goal. Eighth in my age group. I own that
place. If you cut ½ an hour off my time
for my delayed start, I would have been 7th. Either way, top ten… icing on the cake.
The best part of the weekend? Learning that my sister had only
5mm focus of infiltrating ductal carcinoma. … Associated with 95% 5 year
survival. My race? Peanuts compared to hers.
Represent.
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