Last year was great. Every step I took, every mile I pedaled, every yard I swam was an accomplishment. No matter what happened at a race I could look back and say, "I survived" and that was enough to keep me happy. Well, let's just say, year 2 of triathlon is a bit different. I still manage to find a reason to be proud of myself at the end of each workout or race but I have definitely become a bit more critical of my performances.
Pace goals
Now I "know" how fast I should go during a race because I can look up my times from last year. I review my performance, then say, "I can do better...much better". Last year I approached each race with the "go hard" goal. I didn't start setting pace goals until the end of the season when I realized that if I used my Garmin during a race, I might have a reason to push myself forward. I also continuously look up race results and find that my run pace is usually VERY out of place for where I'm ranked overall. I'm honored to place where I place but quite ashamed that I only end up there because my bike goes fast.
Leading the race
Often times the sprint women start first. When you're an okay swimmer and a strong biker, the race is a BLAST for the first 70% of the race. This is how it goes for me- I start the swim with 1 wave of all the women or I start 3 minutes after the older women. Usually I swim faster than the people that don't have any training in swimming and slower than the swimmers. So I'm on my own. I finish the swim and beat many of my rivals out of transitions due to the fact that I take my wetsuit off in the water. Then I hop on the bike and catch the swimmers. Next goal is to catch the older women that started before and close that 3 minute gap. At motor city I caught all of the women and was the first human being to enter T2. You know how scary it is to be by yourself? At this point everyone is looking at you like, "where the hell did you come from?" "oh shit, you're in the lead". I drop off Igor, and head out to run. I start the run KNOWING I'm not a strong runner. Last year I thought that at any moment I would bust out 6 min/miles. I used to build myself up during the run, telling myself that if I want it bad enough, I'll win it. This year I calculate the wave start (3 minutes before me...if they're passing me I'm still 3 mins ahead... if I run 1 min/mile slower for 3.125 miles the gap is closed...). When my heart rate rises I think, "oh no, don't go too hard now... pace yourself". Last year I pushed, pushed harder, pushed harder. Now I'm too afraid to hurt! I used to think that if I was leading a race, I had a good chance of winning. Now I just wait to get passed and watch the podium slip away.
Injuries
I really can't decide if I hurt more last year trying to make my body into a swimmer, biker and runner or if it hurts more this year trying to push beyond my limits and continue training at a high volume and intensity. I'm realizing that many people are REALLY fast when they are in perfect condition but RARELY are we in perfect condition, nor are our competitors. It would be nice if we could treat each race as if it's the only race of the season but it seems like many of us have bigger goals and are merely inserting races into our training schedules, not training for these races. I feel like it is important to focus on our pains and injuries in order to prevent them from getting worse but I really try to avoid using them as excuses for why I didn't perform the way I wanted to. I can't remember the last time I started a race without a laundry list of lingering aches and pains and a slew of prepared excuses for why this race won't pan out the way I want it to.
The fast people
Eventually you find out who the fast people are and start thinking about them as you're planning out your races. You look for these people at the beginning of a race and start to wonder if they're in better shape then you are. Like I said, last year I wanted to survive a race. Eventually I had a new goal- beat Kellie Kource. (she was my main competitor for the sprint series). Soon, I wanted to perform better than I did the race before. Now even though I know that my goal shouldn't be the podium, I can't help but want it and I'm scared that there's going to be a moment when I question doing a race because I know the "fast people" are going to be there. I don't want to be afraid to face people stronger than me, I want them to motivate me.
The "local" race scene
Last year I felt good about winning a sprint race. Soon it turned into, "I bet the stronger people raced olympic distance", then I started thinking, "being a big deal in michigan doesn't mean you're strong nationally". Now it's pretty much "no matter what I do, there will always be someone better". It's good to have a realistic view of how you perform, and also good not to get a big head. HOWEVER, do you know how cool it is to think you're a big deal? Ignorance is bliss. Sometimes the reality checks are depressing.
Men vs. Women
Recently I started comparing myself to the men on my team. Okay, not really recently. This is how I've been training since the beginning but recently I've been questioning how big the gap is between the strength of a woman and the strength of a man. I can finish 5 minutes after 15 of my teammates and be first female overall but the 15 in front of me didn't even podium finish. I don't like walking away with an award and them going away empty handed when they finished faster than me! So, I often wonder if I should really be feeling guilty or not. Maybe even though I finished after them, I DID accomplish something great because there truely is a difference between men and women.
Course and Conditions
I have learned my strengths and weaknesses. I have also learned that big hills hurt and running in grass isn't fun. Seaweed in the lake is gross and a long run out of transition is tiring. A flat course means a fast bike pace and a shoreline swim means I have to breathe on my left side. A shallow course means their will be walkers. Pot holes suck and short loop bike courses can get congested. Races with a longer big leg work in my favor, headwinds suck, tailwinds are great unless you're realizing you HAD a tailwind only after turning around and discovered a headwind. Non-wetsuit swims means that I might have to use my legs and don't have the "I wasted $500 on this thing" advantage. Non-numbered racks means I can get my favorite spot, T1 at the bottom of a hill means I have to make sure I have my bike in the right gear before I rack it, T2 at the bottom of a hill means I need to make sure my brakes work. A hilly courses means my weight is not in my favor. A disc on a windy course works with and against me at the same time. A hot day means I may dehydrate quickly. A swim towards the sun means I might have a hard time sighting. A single female wave start means I will know what place I'm in while racing, multiple waves means I might not push myself because I won't know if I'm in the lead or not. A shady course helps keep me cool and prevent dehydration, a trail run means I might get my shoes dirty. ALL OF THESE THINGS go through my head when preparing for a race!
No longer a beginner....
Year 2. Someone called me "experienced" and another teammate said I was "a seasoned veteren". I miss finishing a race and saying "I'm new". I miss riding my road bike with a non-aero helmet thinking, "I don't need all of that expensive stuff". Now not only do I want it, I have (for the most part) convinced myself that I NEED it. There are THOUSANDS of dollars spent for SECONDS on the course. Is it worth it? Last year I would have said no. This year- ABSOLUTELY!
This blog has been all over the place so I'll make sure I summarize...
I am happy. Really happy! I am just noticing that year 1 was all about overcome initial obstacles. Year 2 is more complicated. Year 2 is calculated. Year 2 requires you to be smart. Year 2 also requires a new level of motivation. The initial beginner support is gone and now it's up to you to find a reason to race. You must listen to your body in Year 2. You must also accept that you won't always be racing at 100%. If you're training for something bigger than the race on Sunday, then you must learn to treat your races as training days in a competitive environment. Year 2 is a mental fight. Remember the important stuff and stop worrying about everything else. Year 2 is a different challenge, and so far, I'm diggin' it.
Gotta go set up the lab for the 7 o'clock ride. A hard ride the day after a race. Being sore isn't an excuse, I must try my hardest.
Bam
Bam
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