Party Pace Wins The Race: Philly Marathon 2024 Race Report

So there's been a theme to 2024 racing, and it's this: I sign up for a race WAY too far in advance, by the time said race is approaching I don't really feel like training for it, I put in the bare minimum, and then I go out there and have the absolute time of my life (and sometimes also a fast time as well).  So it's really only fitting that Philly, which I contemplated not even starting because I truly didn't train for it, ended up being one of the most life affirming, soul filling, remembering why I do this days of my life.

Let's back up for a minute - back in early December of last year, I found myself with FOMO seeing people's Philly posts, because my two experiences at Philly had been WONDERFUL. I also found myself having a few beers with Andrew on the couch, and next thing I knew I found myself saying "should I do it, should I sign up for Philly?" I feel when I get into these states Andrew is now aware that these are entirely rhetorical questions, and so he nodded gamely as I hit submit on registration for a marathon that was almost an entire year away.

Many things happened between then and now! I trained for Boston (acceptably, if without a great deal of excitement), ran Boston (poorly, and hotly, but generally happily), crammed in a training cycle for Sea to Summit (running very minimally), rode my S2S fitness into 70.3 New York (happy for the season to be over) and....OH RIGHT, I'm registered for a marathon. To put the insanity of that into perspective, I ran between 22 and 28 miles per week the ENTIRE summer, I ran more than a half marathon distance a total of twice between Boston and October, and there were a total of 6 weeks between the half iron and Philly, the first of which I spent completely knocked down for the count with sickness. The prospect of running a marathon seemed utterly ridiculous. 

Initially, I thought I might drop to the half, but then I managed to miss that deadline so I was committed to the bit. Then I thought I maybe would just skip the race altogether, but I'd roped Brittany into the weekend and couldn't really abandon her when this whole stupid thing had been my idea in the first place! So I formulated a plan. I would do a couple of a long runs to make sure I wasn't going to actually injure myself going to the start line, and then I would run like a long run until I didn't feel like it anymore. If that meant dropping out at 15, fine, if that meant jogging the whole thing, fine, but I had to go to the start line because I made my bed and now it was my responsibility to lie in it. I honestly believed in the weeks leading up to the race that I would drop out and not care. But somewhere along the way something wormed its way into the back of my brain that was like a) you're not a quitter, and b) what if, for the first time in your life, you actually really and truly just do a race for fun? Like, not just "having fun" at Boston because it's hot and you have to let go of your goals, but like start to finish having a party? The more I pictured how that race might look, the more attached to it I became. Sure, I would have moments of light panic when I considered the fact that I still needed to run 26 miles at any pace, something I felt woefully unprepared for, but mostly when I pictured the race I pictured this glow of fun, of living it up with the crowds, and of just being totally free from any thoughts having anything to do with time. In short, I thought: fuck it, we're doing this. And so, I prayed to the running gods and to my own spirit that I could pull one more race out, one more time, to finish out the year. 

I flew to Philly on Friday and met up with Brittany; as one of my best friends from college being with her always sets the tone for a great weekend and this was no exception. We hit the expo where we bought AMAZING Gritty shirts, caught up over lunch where we both ordered soup because it was freezing and raining outside, and ended up having a nice chill night at the hotel watching Boondock Saints. On Saturday, Brittany was racing the half, and naturally there was nowhere else I was going to be but out on the course cheering like a crazy woman. I remember thinking that one of the negatives about running the full in Philly would be that I couldn't cheer for the half because I'd be too worried about saving my energy. Well, the benefit of running the full like a party is that I wasn't going to let that stand in my way of bringing the energy out to the course, and I had a BLAST - I hung out at mile 7 for about an hour and a half with my speaker and megaphone, going wild, then ran over to mile 12 to cheer some more. I had forgotten how hard the Philly spectators go - my favorite thing was when I was jogging over to my second cheer spot for my "shakeout run" (lol) and saw a group of girls straight up taking pulls from a bag of Franzia, lol. I tried really hard to control my tendency to either be squatting or jumping around while cheering as I felt neither of those would be conducive to the next day, but I think as a result I committed even more energy into my arms and my voice, lol. Some people commented on my energy and I kind of wanted to be like this is not even me at 100% capacity, hahaha. There is truly nothing I love more than cheering for a race! I was proud of myself for drinking a whole bottle of water and eating a sleeve of graham crackers while cheering; when cheering is life you still need to carbo load!

I met back up with Brittany and we headed out for lunch at the aptly named Marathon Restaurant, where I had a turkey club (obvi) and an apple cider mimosa (less obvi but delicious) before we headed to what turned out to be the GREATEST pre marathon experience of my life - going to see Wicked! First of all, the movie was amazing. Second of all, I drank a giant Icee for the first time since I was probably 14 because #carbs and it was amazing. Third of all, I got to spend the entire 3 hour movie ensconced in the most AMAZING recliner (seriously when did movie theaters get such incredible seats?) which was also HEATED. This was extra wonderful because my back was bothering me from whatever nonsense I had been doing cheering in the morning, and being able to put my feet up and also have essentially a heating pad on my back while watching this spectacular movie was the best. I didn't think once about the marathon during the entire film - absolutely perfect.

We went to Wilder, a pizza restaurant near the hotel for dinner, and even though the service was a little bizarre I had a great cocktail (because one must always have prerace cocktails when in Philly) and great pizza. We then stopped by a coffee shop so I could get some cold brew for the morning and grabbed some beer at a bodega so I could have my traditional prerace nail painting beer. I was in a weird and giddy mood, weirdly excited about this completely atypical challenge that I had presented myself with. I started trying to fall asleep around 9:30, and while I was woken up by our neighbors having a conversation that seemed as if they might be in the room with us (the female counterpart squealing "STAAAAHP" at something her boyfriend had done was particularly jarring) around 11:30, I generally slept pretty well. 

I considered an alternate alarm song given the vibes of the race, but in the end I stuck with good old Thunderstruck at 5 am, and it was time to party. I actually was a little thrown off because it has been SO long since I did a marathon that didn't require a super early wakeup and a bus ride out to the start somewhere - the last loop course I did was Baystate in 2017!! Kind of wild, and I also realized halfway through my morning breakfast routine that I actually needed to cut to the second part of said breakfast routine, lol. Had my coffee and half a naked juice, a banana, and a couple of sheets of graham crackers, braided my hair, put on my party pace singlet and got my glitter on my face (I bought face glitter for this race, in case we needed more indication of my mindset), played "What The Fuck Is Happening Here" and giggled with Brittany yet and then left on a quote from Boondock Saints..."I'm fuckin' fine. I'll catch you on the flip siiiide..." 

I walked the darkened streets towards the start area, at one point laughing as I had myself a little rave party underneath a flickering streetlight. I was prepared for the security lines, having dealt with them at the half in the past, and was actually pleasantly surprised that the non-bag line at the entrance I'd selected was very reasonable. I waited about 10 minutes, during which time I also got to have a dance party to Animals which was blasting out of the start area. Totally fitting for a party pace kind of day. Once through the airport security, I filled up my bottle (realizing I was an idiot and hadn't even put my electrolytes in it as planned, oh well). Hit the porta potty, wandered around for a bit, and then decided to get in the porta potty line again as the minutes ticked down towards the start. I figured I had plenty of time, but after 20 minutes of waiting in a seemingly unmoving line I gave up and headed towards the corrals. As it turned out, the lines for the porta potties on the other side of the corrals were much shorter, and I ended up jumping in over there without issue. I headed into the corral, deciding to move back from my assigned corral B to corral C as I wasn't interested in contending with people trying to run under 3:30 which I had no intention of attempting. I immediately spotted a man in an amazing hot dog suit, and I knew THAT was who I wanted to stand next to lol. 

It was actually surreal standing there in the corral, knowing I had a marathon in front of me. Throughout the whole day I really actively tried to never think about the whole distance and to just take it one mile at a time, but facing the starting line sort of put what I was about to do into the spotlight. But I also felt weirdly emotional, and so grateful to be in the position I was in. It probably didn't help that when I first started my playlist, Defying Gravity came on. There was something about doing this race, in this way, that felt so utterly freeing to me. Throughout my athletic career I have always cared about performing well and placed that at the forefront, with all the mental challenges and heartbreak that came with. And that is meaningful, and important, and was the mindset that made me into the athlete that I am today. But over the last couple of years, I have realized more and more that what is REALLY important to me, deep down, isn't the numbers and the accolades and the high placements - it is the joy. It is doing hard things, sure, but it is doing them in a way that makes my heart soar. Standing there and knowing that whatever happened over the next few hours I was doing it my way and doing it for me was really special.

And then I watched a little kid standing on the grandstand next to me blow an air horn, a big smile on his face, and then I was running. And the next 3 hours and 39 minutes were some of the most spectacularly joyful hours and minutes of my entire athletic career.

The first 10K of the Philly course is gloriously flat and fast, and gloriously lined with spectators. From the moment I stepped across the line there were walls of people with enthusiasm radiating out even at 7 in the morning. I looked at my watch a couple of times in the first half mile just to make sure I wasn't doing anything stupid (rule #2, don't be an idiot) and then after seeing that I was right in a nice 8:15ish area, flipped it to time of day and never looked at it again. And then I grinned, and grinned, and grinned. I kept seeing groups of spectators on the sidelines see the person that they were there to see, and just watching those reactions was so beautiful. From the gun I started finding all of the "tap here for power" signs or cubes or what have you and whacking them with everything I had. Somewhere in the first few miles we made a sweeping left turn and I came around it with my arms out wide, airplane arms or you're doing it wrong. This was nothing if not an airplane arms day.

Despite having found a porta potty so close to the start, I found that I needed to pee almost immediately once I started running. I kept thinking I would stop when I saw a porta potty without a line, and I kept thinking that over and over until about mile 20 when the urge to pee finally disappeared, lol. During the section running along the water, "We Built This City" came on my playlist and I started doing the stupid little hand dance that I learned back in Madison all those years ago, because we built this city on rock and rooolllll. One of my rules for party pace was that I needed to partake of ALL of the adult beverage stops that I could find, and I was very excited to find a beer stop already at mile 4! Truly, Philly spectators know how to throw the absolute best party (ahem, FRAMINGHAM, take some goddamn notes!) I grabbed a cup of some kind of light beer and slammed it, then immediately nearly ran into a tree branch hanging out into the road and just started giggling. And then I took my first Gu, naturally, because just because you're having a party you can't totally throw fueling out the window! LOL. 

We were rolling down a street of brownstones now and I was just grooving - the math I was doing on my watch told me that I was rolling a little hot at right around 8 minute pace, but I was just having too much fun to care. We passed a church with a full on gospel choir outside that gave me chills, and shortly after I saw a woman with a MOO DENG sign (a literal cutout Moo Deng that said "You can MOO it!") I SCREAMED "MOO DENG!!!!" probably greatly confusing anyone around me who is not familiar with the internet's favorite hippo, lol, but seriously props to that lady for an absolutely amazing sign.

I truly wish that I could bottle the feeling of the downtown miles, 5-7 or so, because when I tell you these crowds were better than Boston, better than New York, better than ANYTHING I have ever experienced, I am not joking. The absolute wall of sound, of energy, of hype radiating out from these people, lining the streets with not a single gap, universally sending vibes that made my crazy cheerleader heart sing, was absolutely incredible, and I absolutely ate it up. I was making eye contact, pointing, slapping more tap here for power signs, throwing high fives, soaking up everything. At one point someone cheered at me and I cheered back at them and we made eye contact and it was Olympian Alphine Tuiliamuk!! I literally spent the next several minutes thinking about how I had just had a cheer *moment* with Alphine and how freaking cool that was. Somewhere in this stretch "Dancing On My Own" came on my playlist which just felt so perfect. Everyone else could do whatever they wanted...I would be here, at this incredible party, dancing on my own. Man, it was just the best, the best, the best. Pure and utter joy all the way around. 

Soon enough I was up to the 7 mile mark and the point where I'd been cheering the day before, and right around there I heard or saw someone offering up shots of FIREBALL. For a split second I thought "yikes, mile 7, it's too early," and then I thought "THIS IS THE TIME TO DO THIS!" and I ran right on over there and shot back that fireball, to absolute roars from the group offering it, and do you know what, it tasted SO GOOD. I spent the next mile or so feeling the warm glow of possibly the alcohol, but most definitely the vibes of the crowd, just grinning as I headed into the next section of the course around Drexel University.

I remembered this section sucking both times I ran the half; there's a decent hill around mile 8 that I recalled really taking it out of me. But the fun thing about running party pace was that hills don't feel nearly so bad when you're not trying to run goal half marathon pace! Also, shout out to the Philly course for placing all the major hills in the first half! After the hill there's a stretch that I remember being quieter but this time it was decidedly more rowdy. I had a little banter with a guy holding a sign that said "Motivational Sign." ("Love the creativity!" lol) and then found another group handing out beer, which I naturally partook of gladly. Even further back in the pack than I was used to being, I was still surrounded by people who were generally taking the race pretty seriously, so it seemed like the alcohol stations got an extra kick out of someone coming over to take them up on their offer when not many people were. 

We headed past the intersection where the half turns off and out towards the zoo; now I was in a section of the course that I didn't know, although I did know it featured some hills. I couldn't believe I was already 10 miles into the race, running faster than anticipated, loving my life, and feeling GREAT - I knew the feeling might not last, but I was gonna ride the train as long as I possibly could. There was a long hill leading up towards the zoo, but thankfully I had the distraction of an out and back section, which meant I got to cheer for runners coming the other way, and that was how I kept myself entertained for the next couple of miles. I saw Jenna and gave her a cheer (even though she ratted me out to the GBTC coaches when I was trying to run incognito, lol) as well as another GBTC guy, and just generally kept trying to keep the hype train going for the runners who were definitely running a lot faster than me.

The zoo section was quiet as far as spectators were concerned, and I sort of zoned in on my playlist for a bit as there wasn't much else to focus on. It was around here that I also definitely started to notice that I'd been running for awhile - it just wasn't feeling as easy as it had at the start. Well, I told myself, if it doesn't feel like party pace anymore then you should slow down! As it turned out I actually didn't slow down that much in this section at all; in fact, I ran a super consistent race all the way up until about mile 21, at which point I slowed down but only a little. Kind of wild, really! (It's almost like when you pace yourself and keep the effort appropriate in the beginning you have a stronger race overall, WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?!)

I was jamming to my playlist, awaiting my next snack at mile 12, and debating what to do with my sunglasses (I ran the majority of the race with them on my head because I decided to wear my darker lens pair and it actually wasn't sunny at all!) when Pink's song "I Am Here" came on. For some reason this one hit me RIGHT in the feels. Nothing else matters because I am HERE, I am alive, I am loving every minute of this stupid shit that I put myself through on purpose. The line "I can think of one thousand places much worse that this" really hit at a moment when I was truly starting to feel a little tired - sure, this might be a little hard, but isn't it actually kind of wonderful, when you really think about it?

We wound our way back to the other side of the out and back, and once again I decided to channel my energy into hyping up the runners on the opposite side, even getting a few high fives from those on the out stretch which was really fun, and I think was a first for me! Someone running near me commented about my good vibes which delighted me - he said something to the effect of "I just want to keep running by you, you've got such great energy!" which is truly the greatest compliment someone could ever give to me. I'm not sure I could have kept this up if I was truly running at race effort, but at the current pace it was the perfect distraction and soon enough we were heading over the bridge towards the second half of the race.

Running over the bridge was one of the only moments I can remember where I thought like, oh, the second half of this might be hard. I definitely could feel the work of the last 13 miles, and I just didn't feel as at ease anymore. But I kept reminding myself that if the pace was too much, I just needed to slow down! I think in hindsight I realize that somewhere along the way I decided that not only did I want to run party pace but I wanted to see how fast party pace could be. In my mind I had pictured literally stopping, walking, etc - or if I had REALLY note cared I would have stopped for the bathroom, or whatever, but when it came right down to it I still wanted this to be a race...just an unusual sort of race. Guess tigers can't completely change their stripes after all...lol. 

We headed into the park which I remembered from the half, but either the marathon course is actually different or I'm misremembering it because there was another long out and back stretch where we were facing runners going the opposite way that I definitely did not recall. It was another quieter section in terms of spectators, so once again I decided to channel any thoughts I was having into hype train for the runners on the opposite side. It was once again a solid distraction and a way to keep myself from putting any attention to how I was actually feeling - honestly, another huge perk of the Philly course in my opinion! The spectators in the park itself were more scattered, but those that were there were excellent - there was a group blasting some techno, which I'm always here for, and one lone random man who was yelling like a maniac which I also approve of because I too am typically a lone random woman lol. 

There's a glorious downhill that I remembered from the half as you head back down towards the river, and I threw in some more airplane arms because my legs were rejuvenated and the vibes were high. I can't remember exactly what song was playing at this point but I think it was a solid techno banger and I just floated down the hill, having so, so much fun. Now, I CAN tell you what song was playing next because it was Crazy Bitch, a song that has always cracked me up and been an anthem of my training since my first half marathon way back in 2007, but much to my dismay my headphones decided to die right in the middle of the song! This made no sense (I had literally fully charged them the previous day and they usually last 6-7 hours) and was super annoying, but did make for something of a distraction as I fiddled with my phone, turning the headphones on and off, and eventually gave up and realized that they were dead. I decided that I still needed music so just let my phone play out of my bra - half the time I couldn't even hear it because the crowds were so loud, but I still really wanted my perfect playlist to match my perfect party! 

This was around mile 17-18, and the point where my legs DEFINITELY started to feel the fact that I hadn't actually trained for this race. The good news was, the hard part came exactly when I suspected it would, and I was ready for it. I was honestly just grateful to have felt completely amazing for 18 miles - if I had to find a way to gut it out through 8 more, that was survivable. I laughed at myself internally for ever thinking I'd drop out at 16 - or at all. I knew now that I could make it, and I WAS going to have fun doing it, no matter what.

We were once again on an out and back stretch, this time with the opportunity to cheer for the elites and runners leading the race, and of course I took that opportunity and ran with it. A man in front of me seemed genuinely confused at my ability to have the energy to shout encouragement at other runners while running, as he put it "sub 3:40 pace yourself!". I couldn't quite tell if that was a compliment or an underhanded desire for me to get away and stop annoying him with my perkiness, but either way it made me smile even bigger at the way I was getting to combine all of my favorite things into one amazing marathon day. By this point I had finished my bottle that I had brought, and so started grabbing some nuun from the aid stations because I realized I hadn't been drinking a ton. I think I got away with a bit because the weather was great (low 50s and overcast) and I probably should have finished my bottle sooner, but honestly it was kind of great not having to deal with the aid stations until the second half, and I'd be tempted to run with my own bottle again in the future - it really didn't bother me at all!

I had heard things about the party that was Manayunk and I was VERY excited to get there, but I was delighted to discover some great party atmosphere on the way as well. There was one group of spectators that I'm convinced was just blasting a playlist of Kesha's greatest hits, as I heard Kesha both on the out AND the back. There were confetti cannons galore although none exploded directly over me (the only thing that I wished for and didn't get out of this race!) The spectators were just IN it, in a way that I just feel like I've never experienced to this degree. I kept smiling, kept vibing, waving at people throwing a house party on their balcony, hitting more tap here for power signs, and despite that fatigue starting to set into my legs, continued simply having a blast.

I saw the mile 21 sign show up on my left before mile 20 beeped on my watched, so I knew we couldn't be too much further from the turnaround. It was at that moment that RUMBLE SLOW came on my playlist, aka my absolute FAVORITE pump up song. Mile 20, Rumble Slow, I don't care if you're tired you don't fucking let up. I let that carry me into Manayunk, which was EVERYTHING that I had heard about, and then some. It was like being dropped into a raging party where everyone is absolutely stoked that you're there, and are committed to you having the absolute best time ever. I immediately spotted a beer stand just after mile 20 and grabbed a cup to raucous applause, throwing my hands in the air and waving my empty cup like I was dancing in the basement of some house party 20 years ago. The roads were narrow and the crowds were right up to the edges, the wall of sound so loud I had no chance of hearing whatever song came next, and I couldn't have cared less. I high fived, I pointed (for some reason pointing at people and WHOOing was my default setting) I slapped more "tap here for power signs", I smiled and smiled and smiled. I can close my eyes and picture coming around the turnaround completely enclosed by these crowds, their energy surrounding me as if I was a rock star, a celebrity, the coolest and most fun person in the room. Oh my God, it was so joyful, so magical. I felt like I was floating; I felt like the grin on my face probably looked ridiculous with how hard I was smiling. I don't actually feel like I can adequately describe the colors, the sounds, the energy in words, but I can see it when I close my eyes. These are the moments I want out of life, that I want to savor and cherish and hold onto and seek out as often as I can - I am doing something hard, but my God, I am having the absolute time of my life.

I found some more beer just after the mile 21 mark and took a short walk break because a) I was getting kinda tired! but more importantly b) it was a very full cup of a DELICIOUS IPA, which normally would maybe be problematic but in this setting was so delightful that I shouted back "AN IPA?! OMG THANK YOU!!" I used this short IPA time to rally my strength; I had 5 more miles to go, and I knew it wasn't going to be an easy 5 miles, but I also knew that I could do this, and I could do it with the same attitude and joy and personal party that had taken me the past 21. I just had to keep holding on. I would also like to say that there was something utterly MAGICAL about "Shots" coming on my playlist just after I had drunk this beer - the ultimate party song that immediately brings me back to Reach the Beach, the place where I actually learned that racing *could* be fun. I thought of my team in that moment and I'll honestly be grateful to them forever for the gift of teaching me that I didn't have to give up the party just because I also wanted to put in the effort. 

As we left Manayunk there was a quieter stretch near a freeway, and hilariously the song that my playlist chose to project out into this silence was "Good Afternoon" from the lesser known Will Ferrell Christmas movie Spirited. It's a ridiculous song where "good afternoon" is like a curse and I was dying laughing inside wondering what anyone around me who could hear this marathon playlist selection was thinking. It was sort of wild to me that I was somehow here at mile 22 of a marathon - the most utterly unexpected mile 22 of my life, and yet I can tell you I felt better than I have at mile 22 of at least 10 other marathons. There was fatigue in my legs, sure, but that was it. No hydration issues, no fueling problems, no cramps, no heatstroke, no pain. Just fatigue, and happiness, and letting them blend together for just a few more miles.

Soon I was back in the out and back, passing the Kesha crew, partying my way back to the last 3 miles on the river that would lead me home. A couple of shirtless dudes were hyping up the crowd next to me and I got in on it, telling them how much I loved their vibes. "Fuck yeah!" one of them said, "you know, if it's not fun..." If it's not fun, why do it. I've said those words a lot in the last couple of years, and I really have meant them, but they've never run more true than in this moment, when somehow on my 20th try I was turning this distance into something more than just an obstacle to be faced or a battle to be won. Why was I doing this? Because it was fucking FUN.

And that's about when I took another shot of fireball!!

It was mile 23 and I saw another crew advertising their beverages, and at this point I mean what else was there to do? But the funniest part was that I ran over to get my shot, the group was going wild, and then the girl who actually GAVE me the shot was utterly horrified when I actually took it! She literally went "Oh NOOOOO!" as I shot it back and then called after me "good luck!!" I was absolutely cracking up, but she shouldn't have worried because once again fireball tasted...weirdly amazing? And I mean come on, it's mile 23, there are only so many horrible things that can happen when you only have 3 miles to go. By this juncture I knew I was slowing down and the tin man lead legs were starting to come on, but I kept trying to convince myself that I could always slow down instead of walking. I did take a quick walk break shortly after the fireball shot to work out a little calf spasm, which of course was when I saw BRITTANY and I was like OH NO she can't catch me walking! So I started running again and then shouted "I had a fireball shot!!!" at her like a little kid who has done something slightly naughty and is really proud of it haha. 

My watch was cruelly beeping my mile splits almost half a mile before the official mile markers, but at least I'd sort of gotten used to it so I was just thinking of them as two discrete checkpoints - OK, you get the watch beep 24 and then you get the *real* 24. And oof, by this point my legs were really ready to be done running. It was taking a lot more effort to bring the party but I continued to do so even when the fight became real - more high fives, more WOOs at everyone who WOOO'd at me (so much yelling, it was so great), more waving my arms around, more smiling. Under the bridge at mile 25 there was a literal drumline that felt like it was practically shaking the bridge, the perfect sound to bring you home. I still was sort of dumbfounded that I actually was about to finish this marathon, and not only finish but finish in a very reasonable time despite (or perhaps because of!) the absolute party that I had had. 

One more mile, my legs tying up, but I knew this finishing stretch from the half and I kept telling myself to hold on. I could only intermittently hear the music coming from my phone at this point, but in a brief moment of quiet I suddenly realized that the song playing was once again, Defying Gravity. And I damn near burst into tears right there, running towards the finish line. Something has changed within me, something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game. Too late for second guessing, too late to go back to sleep, it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap... Today those lyrics meant exactly what I'd said this race would be about from the start - a chance to do a marathon my way, in a way that filled up my heart to the brim. For so many years I truly believed that if I wasn't racing a marathon, aiming for a PR, running to the absolute best of my ability come hell or high water, that I was doing it wrong. That it somehow meant less if I wasn't shooting for my best. And yet, this day, this marathon, this moment, didn't felt like it was any less. In fact, it was everything I ever wanted - effort and joy and fight and fun all wrapped up into one wonderful package. I was in the arena, but I was playing by my own rules, and I'll be damned if it didn't feel just a little bit like flying.

Over the hump of the little hill, wondering when I might be able to finally see the finish line, and laughing as the guy next to me grumbled that we had already run 26.4 miles. I took it all in, the city skyline, the crowds still lining the course after all this way, the finish line arch ahead. I remember thinking once that if I ever didn't think running a marathon was a big deal anymore, that's when I should stop doing them. One could argue that the way I approached this marathon meant that I'd reached that point, that I no longer respected the distance in the way that I once did or should. But running down that finish chute, finishing this distance, it still felt like as big of a moment as it did 15 years and 20 marathons ago. And this time, just as then, it was lit from behind by a complete and utter sense of joy. 

I crossed the line and finally looked at my watch, which I had been ignoring for the better part of 3 hours, and was aghast to see a 3:39 lighting the screen. Absolutely beyond my wildest expectations between the (lack of) training, my approach to the race, and simply my current level as a runner. I felt torn between laughter and tears of joy as I realized that I had run 5 minutes faster than I had run at Boston in April, a race that I'd actually trained for, and while yes I had aimed to make it a fun run had included nowhere near the exhilarating joy of this day. The thought that actually did make me well up a little bit in the moment (and still does a bit as I write this now) was the fact that here in my 20th marathon, I had run nearly the exact same time as I had in my first. I felt the years roll back and could practically picture little 22 year old me, with no idea what lay in store when she decided to set off on this journey of being a marathoner. I was so proud of her, for who she had pushed herself to become, and I was so proud of me, for allowing myself to loosen my grip on that picture of success and to find my way back to why I love to do these hard things. And through all of those years, all of those races, a thread: joy, and exhilaration, and doing things that make you come alive. I'm not sure when the marathon is going to call me back, though I'm sure that it will, but there's something that felt right about closing out this chapter of my running career with bookends that fit just right. 

I wax poetic about Boston constantly, and after running it 11 times it clearly has a large chunk of my heart. NYC is without compare when it comes to big city energy. There are good things I could say about all (well, *almost* all) of the marathons I've run. But Philly...man, oh man. All 3 times I have participated in this marathon weekend, I have left with the fullest and most joyful heart. That's what made me sign up for this race in the heat of the moment almost a year ago, that's what always makes this race near the top of my favorites list. And I just could not be more grateful or delighted that Philly is the marathon I chose to give myself the gift of freedom, of joy, of 26.2 miles of party pace, nothing more and nothing less. You bet I'll drink to that.

Philadelphia Marathon 2024

3:39:29

83/518 F35-39, 610/4821 F, 2810/12340 OA

PR for most beverages consumed in a race :) 

Ironman 70.3 Jones Beach 2024 Race Report

Let's flash back to May of this year, when I received an email that Ironman 70.3 New York was "almost sold out"! Having recently changed my plans out of doing 70.3 Wisconsin due to a variety of logistical issues, I was immediately intrigued - intrigued enough that after checking the date and reading the words "completely closed highway bike course" - I signed up. Perhaps one of these days I will learn something about signing up for races SO early...but this was not that day. After Sea to Summit, my motivation to train pretty much hit rock bottom. I cobbled together a couple of long-ish rides (one 50 miler...one very hilly 45 miler...do we count a couple of 35s?), one long run + Reach the Beach, and continued with my casual 1x/week open water swims. In summary, I was doing absolutely NOTHING that any sane coach or person would look at and say, yes, that woman is training for a successful half iron triathlon. Hell, I barely felt like I was *training* at all! It got to the point that when my hotel abruptly cancelled at the beginning of September, I had half a mind to completely bail on the race. The more I looked into the logistics, the more complicated and time consuming it seemed, and did I really want to spend all this time and effort to do a race that I was in no way prepared for? Well, in the end, the amount of money my idiot self had paid for said race won out, I found a new hotel, and I decided if nothing else the race would be penance for my failings and a reminder to actually consider whether I REALLY wanted to do a race before I hit the registration button.

Well...that's not exactly what happened?!

With a Saturday race we drove down to Long Island on Thursday afternoon, making a clutch last minute realization that we could take the ferry as opposed to battling NYC traffic. I ended up just eating a turkey sandwich and a hot pretzel on the boat for dinner, and we stopped at a brewery on the way to the hotel to grab a beer before we checked in (and to make Andrew feel like he was getting *something* out of the trip lol). I had ended up booking a Hampton Inn about half an hour from the race site that seemed to hit my intersection of affordability and location, plus apparently all Hampton Inns are now dog friendly which was CLUTCH! We took advantage of the free breakfast which was honestly excellent before heading down towards check in. 

I learned from reading the athlete guide that Jones Beach was not dog friendly (making the fact that I forced Andrew and Topper to come along on this little adventure even stupider lol) so I ended up dropping Andrew off at the end of a bike path to spend a couple of hours walking to the beach while I dealt with check in, bike racking, and doing a shakeout swim. On the way I was able to get a nice bike course preview of the Wantaugh Parkway, which was hilariously flat for this New England gal. I arrived at check in and the village, with all of the fanfare that the Ironman brand brings. I HATE myself for saying this, but the hoopla that surrounds these bigger events does add something to the race experience for me - nothing against smaller local races, which I also love! But there is something to be said for this *experience* with a store and signs and branding that just somehow makes it feel like a little bit bigger of a deal. Now, in this particular situation, that was a little bit concerning to my soul, as I felt in no way prepared to take on a big deal kind of race. Add to that the fact that nothing makes me feel like more of an imposter than an Ironman check in area, where everyone is walking around in expensive clothing and expensive bikes and looking like the definition of an endurance athlete while I feel like some rando who wandered into the wrong tent, and it was a bit anxiety provoking. But I went through all the motions - got my wristband and swag, perused the store (bought some socks that had nothing to do with the race because of my crippling sock addiction), made sure my bike tires were inflated and then checked my bike in, etc. In the midst of it all I tried to make sure I was continuing to eat food and stay hydrated, almost like I needed to race the next day or something, and then finally it was noon which meant I was allowed to head over to the beach for the practice swim.

I like swimming the day before a tri because I just find it impossible to be stressed out while I'm swimming, so it really calms me down, and all the better if I can do it at the actual race venue. That was even more valuable here, as I'm not used to swimming in saltwater or any sort of a current. The practice swim setup was nice - they had a mini "course" that we were able to do with lifeguards keeping track. The water was chillier than I expected but felt nice once I was in; what was initially less nice was the JELLYFISH I kept smacking! They were just moon jellies, so they don't sting, but it took a little while to get used to the sensation and to not squeal underwater every time I felt one lol. It was a perfect little 15 minute shakeout swim and I felt much better leaving the water than when I entered. I also timed it perfectly, as by the time I was heading back to the parking lot Andrew had arrived and we were ready to go find lunch.

We ended up going to a great little brewery, Root + Branch, on the way back to the hotel where we had some excellent beer, but even more importantly, excellent pizza! We ate a pizza for lunch, and then I had the smart idea that we should get pizza to go so we would have dinner sorted, and then we would also have trunk pizza for after the race...so essentially I just ate this pizza for 2 days straight and IT WAS GREAT, don't judge me lol. The perk of staying in a purely utilitarian location for the race was that we really had no desire to attempt to sight see or be touristy after that, so we just went back to the hotel and vegged the rest of the night...not sure why I don't do this more often before races, because it was great?! After more pizza and a beer I watched Divergent (random, but also perfect) and headed to bed around 9:30. I think by this point I had fallen into a very "que sera sera" attitude so I wasn't really nervous, more just repeatedly wondering WTF I was actually doing the following day. 

Thunderstruck, 4:15 am. I actually was awake before the alarm and could feel myself going into 'get it done' mode, where there's no room for nervousness because there's always the next thing to do. I got a cup of juice and ate a banana, braided my hair (took 4 tries because I kept ending up with a weird lump which I could not abide with, despite the fact that my hair would be covered by various hats ALL DAY lol), ate a few graham crackers and drank some iced coffee. It's funny how my race morning breakfast has evolved over the years; I always think that whatever I'm currently doing is "the best" but seriously, I think graham crackers are the best because you don't have to eat them all in one big chunk and can sort of just gradually infuse carbs into your body over the course of the morning. I gathered all of my bottles and stuff for the day; Andrew had enough time to come back to the hotel before checkout which also make the whole morning a bit easier. 

The drive to the venue was pretty easy; it was amusing being passed by multiple speeding SUVs with bike racks on the back who were clearly also headed to the race. Andrew maintained a safe speed the entire time, lol. Once we got on the causeway closer to the beach it started to rain; I commented that it could stop doing that (spoiler alert: the weather gods were not interested in listening to me). We got into parking lot 4 with no issues and I grabbed my first batch of stuff to head into transition, leaving my wetsuit in the car because I was planning on coming back to drop my bag back off. Again, once in transition I was 100% in focus mode. I got my stuff situated, putting my bike and run shoes inside of the bag from the store that I had obtained yesterday to try to keep them dry, cramming as many fingerling potatoes as could fit into my bento box in (I was trying out some new bike fuel for this race lol) and then waiting in a completely nonmoving line for a portapotty before eventually abandoning ship and heading to the ones closer to the beach. The wind was WHIPPING and I'll admit looking out at the churning bay made my heart rise into my throat a little bit. I love to swim, but the idea that I'd be fighting Posideon in that bay in a matter of an hour was a little bit nervewracking.

All current transition problems solved, I headed back to the parking lot to get my wetsuit which is where the whole morning went completely off the rails. I went to where I was pretty sure the car was...and it was not there. I wandered around a little bit, still no sign. I called Andrew, becoming increasingly panicked as our conversation went on and we didn't seem to be coming any closer to finding each other. I asked him to honk the horn - I could hear it, somewhere in the distance, but was getting no closer to actually pinpointing the location. I kept circling the parking lot, beginning to spiral as I hyperventilated into the phone. "I CAN'T DO THIS SWIM WITHOUT A WETSUIT!!" Andrew, for his part, was trying desperately to figure out anything he could do but this was decisively a me problem. As the clock ticked closer to the time transition closed, a lightbulb finally went off in my brain as I looked back at transition: the parking lot we parked in WAS NOT NEXT TO TRANSITION. I had been wandering around the WRONG parking lot!! OMG. Talk about dumb race morning brain...in the darkness and in my hurry, I had taken the wrong path down to the parking lot and had essentially walked into a circle back to transition. What an idiot. I power walked to the correct parking lot, trying to slow down my breathing and heart rate (I guess I really got a good warmup?), found Andrew exactly where he said he was, grabbed my god forsaken wetsuit, and power walked back to transition, practically mowing down a few spectators on the way. 

Back in transition, which was practically empty by this point, I continued to try to calm down my breathing and had to laugh a bit at what a ridiculous morning it had been. A couple of guys next to me at the rack struck up a conversation, with one offering me some goggle defogger which I happily accepted (and it worked like a charm, thank you guy!) It was his first triathlon, and I wished him good luck and to have a great day before finally heading down to the water and the starting area, finding my way to the vicinity of the 37-40 minute pace sign. 

One thing that I miss with triathlons compared to running races is having friends to hang with before the start...I sometimes feel like a little kid with no friends on the first day of school! LOL. It's not a big thing but I tend to be chatty when I'm nervous and not having anywhere to send that energy can kind of get frustrating. I ended up talking a bit with a couple of guys near me, but so often talking with strangers in these situations  turns into a big dick waving contest, with everyone asking how many Ironmans YOU'VE done, oh well I'VE done this many, oh one time at THIS race, blah blah blah. The culprits of this behavior are almost always men but guess what, you're almost always outnumbered 4:1 as a woman in this sport so that's who you end up dealing with. One guy near me mentioned that it was his first 70.3, and as I'd shared my experience in some prior conversation he asked if I had any advice. "Oh, I literally still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing," I replied. "I guess I'll just tell you what I always tell myself: don't be an idiot, and have fun!" I think that guy thought I was an idiot. OH WELL. 

It took quite awhile to get into the water (25 minutes from the official start according to Strava) but finally we were moving closer to the chute. There was a spectator dancing wildly to whatever music they were playing who I loved, definitely hype train A-Z approved, and I vibed with her a little bit before heading into the starting corrals. And then it was time to go, ready or not!

Swim - 38:03, 13th AG, 107th F, 572nd OA

The swim started with a pretty extensive run along the beach, followed by a pretty substantial stretch of very shallow water. Despite the fact that people around me were still trying to run I pretty much dove in as soon as the water got deep enough to swim; there is nothing I find more awkward than trying to walk or run through shallow water, and I suspected that just swimming would be faster - a fact that was confirmed when I passed all of the people who were still walking, lol.

The out leg of the swim was INTENSE. I had known it would be from looking at the bay, but the reality of it was really something else. I've never swam in such rough water and while I never got stressed out about it, I definitely did find myself having to work a lot harder to move forward, and it was annoying! The pattern of the chop was so unpredictable so I never really knew where in the wave cycle I was going to try to breathe; sighting was almost impossible because it was also raining and the wind was blowing water everywhere, so I just tried to follow all the neon swim caps. I definitely got a couple of good gulps of salt water due to an ill-timed breath, and since the waves were mainly coming from ahead of me I don't even think being able to breathe on the opposite side would have helped.  I wouldn't say I ever found a rhythm in the first 1000 yards - it was just stroke, find a way to breathe, and keep on going in whatever pattern keeps you moving forward. I think I'm normally a pretty efficient breather and don't really pop out of the water unless I'm sighting, but in this case it was just impossible to stay flat in the water. Despite the fact that I felt like a flailing windmill, I found myself continuously passing people (as usual lol) and was sort of taking in the scene around my every time I breathed or sighted. People were backstroking, treading water, just sort of dogpaddling...it was not the typical scene for people who had seeded themselves at this type of pace. I found myself thinking about all the people going into the water after me who weren't strong swimmers and thanked myself yet again for my confidence in the water. 

The worst part of the entire swim was the left turn buoy; there was a pileup of people and the waves seemed to be at their peak. This was the only point in the day where I straight up stopped swimming freestyle and just sort of paddled around the buoy; there was too much going on and I'd already been kicked in the head on the out, I wasn't in the mood for any more contact. The short cross stretch was also unpleasant, but then I FINALLY made the turn for home with the waves now at my back. I was finally able to find my rhythm and get into a groove with my stroke, although I definitely could tell I was carrying more fatigue than usual due to fighting the waves on the way out. I said hi to my little jellyfish friends throughout this stretch and tried to just lock in for the final 750 yards or so. Similar to the start of the swim, the end of the swim got really shallow well before the actual exit to the water, and I had to laugh as I noticed that not a SINGLE person was trying to run out of the water - we were like a bunch of shipwreck survivors straggling to shore. "Well, THAT was an adventure!" I commented to no one in particular, which got a couple of laughs from people nearby. The nice part about the slow meander out of the water was it gave me plenty of time to get my heart rate down and to take off my cap and goggles and get the top of my wetsuit down, so by the time I actually got onto the beach I was in a good position to start jogging up to transition, something I don't always feel like I have the energy to do! My official time was in the 38 minute range, inclusive of all of the water running/walking; when I GPS my swim I only count the actual swimming time because I'm curious about my actual swimming pace, and my time for that portion was 36:26 (1:49/100) and my splits tell the real story - 9:23/10:01/8:37/8:23 lolll. But hey, another good swim pulled OUT OF MY BUTT, I will take it! Don't tell all those people I passed that I did one leisurely OWS every week and no additional swim training, lol. 

T1 was SLOW. I swear there were reasons for it but T1 is definitely something I need to clean up in general. But everything was wet because it was still raining, which just threw me off. I also attempted to eat a potato, which just was not the move right after swimming. I ended up having to spit half of it on the ground because I couldn't swallow it because my mouth was too dry from the salt water, disgusting but what can you do. I couldn't decide what to do about my sunglasses, I couldn't figure out what to do with my food, honestly I've never done a tri transition in the rain before and I simply did not know how to handle it. 4 minutes and 33 seconds later (ugh so long) I was finally trotting out with my bike, laughing at the guy advertising sunscreen, and mounting up for the bike! 

Bike - 2:54:31 (19.3 mph) 18th AG, 109th F, 869th OA

The beginning of the bike was a little bit of shitshow as I continued my process of trying to figure out what the hell to do with my sunglasses and get into my spot in the group as we exited transition. It pretty quickly became clear that even though it was absolutely not sunglasses weather, I was going to need some eye protection due to the wind whipping all sorts of shit off the ground and into my eyeballs. I spent some time maneuvering my (thankfully lightly tinted) sunglasses out of my pocket and put them on; I now could barely see and needed to keep looking over the tops of the glasses but at least sand wasn't flying in my eyes anymore!

The first 5 or so miles of the bike were actually horrid, as we were going over these exposed bridges and the wind was coming directly crosswise, which is simply NOT fun when you're trying to maneuver a lightweight bicycle. Getting in aero just didn't seem like a good idea and my first 5 mile split was super slow due to all of the effort spent simply trying to stay upright while also maneuvering through what was initially a pretty crowded course. Thankfully, once we got out of the bridges and onto the main highway the wind situation improved significantly and I was able to get down in aero, lock in, and roll. One of the most challenging parts of these bigger races for me is all of the PEOPLE, especially when said people are not behaving in the most appropriate way. It was frustrating having people (again, almost universally men) essentially blocking the road as opposed to riding on the right, but thankfully the large width of the course made room for all even when people were behaving like asshats. One thing I will just NEVER understand is the number of men who feel the need to close pass you without saying a goddamn word. It's unsafe, and frankly rude. I passed probably hundreds of people throughout the bike leg and I tried to say at least something to all of them...it's really not that hard. 

The first out section went by pretty quickly; I was doing a good amount of passing and was happy with the splits I was seeing on the slightly (*very slightly*) uphill out leg. The only real "hills" on the course per se were a few bridges, all of which were short and by no means steep, and I think I might have laughed out loud at one point seeing someone get out of their saddle to climb a hill that in my mind barely qualified as such. But maybe I should do flat races a little more often, because it was pretty damn fun to be able to just get in a gear and roll for miles at a time. There were a couple of particularly awesome spectators out on this leg braving the rain (special shoutout to the man standing alone in a bee costume with a blasting speaker, you are my people) and I tried to hype up the spectators and the volunteers as I went by. I had started off my fueling with a bottle of hi-carb Skratch, and then started supplementing with my potatoes after about 10 miles. MY POTATOES! I pretty much knew that this was going to be a winner as soon as I ate the first one. It tasted delicious, it was easy to eat, it didn't add to the sweetness of my drink, and I got to sing a stupid little song to the tune of "Hot to Go" every time I ate one, which I found delightful. 

There was an awkward section before the turnaround where we had to exit the highway, go over a bridge, and then reenter on the opposite side; this was another section where people were just behaving like HEATHENS and trying to pass on this super narrow stretch of road with expansion joints that could easily cause a crash. It was just so dumb - you pretty much had to slow down because of the turns, what were you really gaining by trying to make a pass? Ugh. But shortly after that was the turnaround, and then we were 1/4 of the way done.

The back leg of the first lap wasn't particularly notable. I just tried to stay in aero, cruising, eating my potatoes, drinking, and hoping that I was putting in the right level of effort. I was amazed at how smooth I was feeling, but also very aware that my bike volume was not in my corner and the second lap could be a very different story. I had also found a fairly good position in the pack and so spent some nice moments not having to worry about passing or being passed. We got back to the bridges section, which was still horrible on the second pass, but at least I was prepared this time...it was still crazy being literally blown sideways and somehow staying upright, and I took some reallllly wide passes on this stretch because the last thing I wanted was to collide with someone else. We rode back into Jones Beach for another little out and back stretch around transition; the out was delightful but as soon as we turned around there was a DIRECT headwind. Thank God this section was only about half a mile, because it was ridiculous, and of course also included a short but probably the steepest incline we encountered all day. My bike actually took me down into my small ring for a second on the first lap and I was sort of laughing because it seemed so dumb, but that's what wind will do to ya! 

The start of the second lap was definitely an improvement, since I at least knew what I was in for with the cross winds and had gotten through that initial shakiness of the beginning of the ride, so I felt like I had to slow down a lot less to manage the gusts. Now that I knew the lay of the land, I was really able to just settle down in aero and roll on the second loop. I kept wondering at what point the bike would start to feel long - like, I was *so* aware that I had not really done enough riding to effectively race 56 miles, and I was sure there would come a time when all of a sudden being on my bike would no longer feel fun, or fatigue would hit, or something, But as it stood, I just kept bopping along, eating my potatoes, drinking my Skratch (and successfully switching out bottles from BOTH sides of my cage, I guess I can sort of finally handle my tri bike lol) and continuing to be taken aback each time I looked at my Garmin and saw how fast I was riding.

Soon enough we reached the awkward bridge section again; this was mainly better than the first loop except for the man riding directly in front of me who insisted that THE TURNAROUND was *the* place to slowly unwrap a bar and eat it...and this was a man who did not seem capable of eating while continuing to effectively maneuver his bike. I was super irritated - like, I love fueling, but you couldn't have waited 30 more seconds until you were around the extremely tight 180 degree turn? Men, man. Thankfully, I was able to free myself from him as soon as the road opened up again, and there were now only 15 miles to go! 

At some point in this area I had run out of potatoes, so I decided to eat a few chews because I knew I needed a bit more fuel to get through for another 45 minutes or so. The chews hit MUCH better when I hadn't been eating them all day, and I kept thinking about how I couldn't wait to text my RTB teammates and tell them how well the potato fueling strategy worked. I honestly felt consistently energized throughout the entire ride - there was one point near the beginning where I had felt a bit hungry, but I just ate 2 potatoes instead of 1 and that problem was solved. My stomach was rock solid - which again, usually doesn't come up as an issue until I hit about 70-80 miles of riding- but I also knew I was drinking a lot more than usual (aka I was actually hydrating appropriately). In fact, I actually had to pee (omg I was actually hydrating appropriately), and subsequently learned that I still can't really pee on my bike...even in the rain! C'mon! If there was one time to execute it perfectly this would have been it! 

The straightaway back was marred only by another absolute dick of a man who I swear to god was trying to block me. I wanted to pass him but he was riding at the very left edge of the lane, and trying to pass him would have meant having to cross over the tire sucking expansion joints, which I was simply not willing to risk just because douchebag mcgee didn't know which side of the lane you're supposed to ride on. I finally SHOUTED at him "ON YOUR *RIGHT*" and shot past him since he refused to move over, thoroughly irritated but with just a little bit of extra fire fueling me towards the end of the bike course. 

Soon enough I was hitting mile 50 and tackling the last pass over the windy bridges, honestly totally in shock that I was still riding so fast, feeling so good, and having so much fun. I feel like in this race report I focused on how annoying the men around me were (which honestly probably is just related to the fact that this was a BIG race on a multiloop course, which I'm not really used to), but quite frankly I had an absolutely delightful time on the bike. The on and off rain just served to make things more interesting, I fueled like a champ, I sang my little songs and vibed with the spectators and all in all just really enjoyed myself. I had started to realize as I got closer to transition that I was actually in the ballpark to finish the bike under 3 hours which quite frankly was a SHOCK - I had technically done that in my first 70.3, but I knew that bike course was like 3 miles short so it didn't really count. When I finally stopped my watch and saw that my average speed was 19.3 mph, I almost died - like I know it was a flat course, but WHEN DID I GET GOOD AT BIKING?!! Sure, in comparison to other women going 21-22 mph it was nothing crazy, but as someone who never rode over 19 mph in any context, ever, until randomly this September, and with the extremely minimal training I had done, I would have never imagined that I'd be able to achieve that type of speed over a half iron distance bike. But now was going to come the real test - I had biked my face off...was it too much, or would I be able to hang on for the run?

I ran into T2 and decided to just skip the porta potty and kind of pee as I ran (GROSS I KNOW but not any grosser than doing it on the bike, right?) T2 felt smoother than T1 as it always does - got my bike back on the rack, shoes changed, race belt on and Gus on board. I spent a moment contemplating whether I wanted to ditch my sunglasses and put on a hat instead, but the rain seemed to be abating and I felt like maybe the sun was poking out, so I decided to stick with the sunnies...which would turn out to be a *choice* lol. The wind was whipping and transition felt strangely deserted as I ran towards the run out arch and into whatever this half marathon was going to be. 

Run - 1:43:50 (7:55/mile) 6th AG, 31st F, 329th OA

Where transition had been quiet, the second I entered the run course it felt CROWDED - it was kind of shocking how many people were already out on the course! I immediately started playing a little game with myself called "how many women can I pass", and actually started keeping a count as I began the run which kept me really mentally engaged! All in all, I had a blast passing people constantly throughout the run - I may not be quite as fast as I once was, but there is something truly delightful about being a runner in a world where most people are not.

The run course was a double out and back along the beach and boardwalk, and it pretty quickly became clear that the out leg had a significant tailwind...which meant the back legs were going to be DIRECTLY into a vicious headwind - "the teeth of the wind", as Tom would say. I tried not to worry about the future and focused on just finding a pace and grooving along. It was a bit of a surprise when I started seeing my splits clicking off in the 7:45ish range and feeling relaxed at that pace - I haven't been seeing a whole lot of sub 8 miles show up on my watch period these days, let alone have them appear with any sort of ease. 

The rain started to pick up again almost immediately once I got further out onto the boardwalk, and I had to laugh because the tailwind was blowing my hair into my face, my sunglasses were completely covered in water, and I couldn't believe how silly it was that I had chosen not to wear a hat in conditions where a hat would have been VERY much the move. Oh well! The approach to the turnaround seemed lengthy, which I made a mental note of for the second loop. However, once I finally arrived at the turnaround area I was greeted with a tent where a man in a sequined blazer with no shirt underneath was dancing around and an amazing techno song was BLASTING - literally my favorite type of music to hear during a race, and I was HYPED. I was so pumped to be feeling so good and to be enjoying myself so much at this late stage of the race. There's just something about triathlon, man...no matter the conditions, or how I might be feeling, this sport is just so much damn fun. 

The turn into the wind was a bit *less* fun - it's been awhile since I ran so directly into a headwind off the sea, and it was not any more pleasant than I remembered. There was also an awkward little section where we had to run on basically a tarp covering some sand, which really threw my legs for a loop. But even with the elements, I felt like I was able to stay focused and keep chugging along. I took my first GU at the 4 mile mark and set about trying to find a man to draft behind - what can I say, I have no shame when it comes to drafting on the run. The issue was that I was finding it very difficult to find a man who was actually running fast enough to be useful! Every time I'd see someone who seemed to be moving at a similar pace, I'd tuck in behind only to realize that I'd need to slow down, which I wasn't really in the mood to do. Finally, about a mile from the next turnaround I did find a tall man who was running about 8:00 pace, which was about what I had fallen into on the sections into the wind. I always think of a line from Once A Runner - "he was drafting without humor or malice" - I see nothing wrong with taking a little help where I can get it, especially with the wind as intense as it was!

Soon enough we were reaching the turnaround to the second loop, and a section that involved several meandering tunnels and a run along the beach where we had been swimming hours earlier. I still couldn't believe how good I was feeling over halfway through the run - my running has been suspect at best this summer, with long runs particularly lacking - but here I was not only surviving, but THRIVING. As soon as I hit the turnaround and escaped the headwind my pace dropped right back down into the 7:45s. I was definitely starting to feel tired, but it was completely manageable - I could tell my fueling and hydration were solid (I took 3 Gus during the run with no GI issues), but more importantly than that, I found that mentally I actually wanted it. In pretty much all of my recent running races, I've had no desire to push myself when things got hard. I've been totally OK with backing off the pace, or taking a walk break, or whatever. But here on this boardwalk, for the first time in a long time, I found myself willing to lean into the discomfort and to push even though it was starting to feel more difficult to do so. And that alone - the fact that I actually wanted to try - buoyed me into wanting to try even more.

The boardwalk was BUSY on the second loop, as a large percentage of the field had at least started the run by this point. Since I was now lapping people it stopped making sense to try to count passes; I had lost track around 30 women on loop 1 anyway. All I could do was to keep trying to maintain my pace, get to one mile marker after the next, and see if I could finish strong. I always laugh at the sort of mental gymnastics that goes on in longer races, and this was no exception. I was VERY dedicated to my countdown of miles/time during the last 5 miles of the run. Every few minutes I would look at my watch and think, OK, less than 5 miles, that's like 35 minutes, you only have to keep running for 35 more minutes, that is so doable! And so I would continue on. 

Getting to the DJ booth turnaround seemed to take a lot longer this time, but once I got there I knew I only had 3 more miles to go, which is the point in any race where I usually realize that no matter what happens I can get through it. It definitely felt significantly harder to fight the wind on the second pass; whether the wind had increased or I was just more tired (or maybe both) I didn't know, but it felt like running straight at a brick wall. The rain had definitely increased in intensity over the course of the run and I had to laugh at my decision to wear sunglasses - by this point, I could barely see a thing in front of me. I didn't let myself be concerned about my pace and just tried to keep the effort on. I ended up finding another woman to tuck behind, and after awhile I pulled ahead a little bit figuring that we could take turns. She definitely didn't get the memo, and put in a surge to pass me back before settling right back into the pace that we had both been previously running. Well, fine then, we won't share the work! I tucked right back in and sat, appreciating any bit less effort I needed to put in against the teeth of the wind. 

As the miles ticked by I found myself starting to get "the faster you run the faster you're done" type energy and passed my 'friend' for good, now setting my sights on a woman in a Zoot trisuit who I was pleased to be able to track down before the turnoff towards the finish line. With my limited visibility I was actually a little nervous about making a wrong turn and accidentally heading out for a third lap, so I was happy to see a very obvious "FINISH" arrow pointing straight ahead down towards the beach. I found myself actually laughing with a guy as we started our finishing kicks heading into the chute (he got me lol). And holy shit, was I DELIGHTED when I crossed the finish line! I truly couldn't believe how well I'd executed across all three disciplines, in poor conditions and with decidedly mediocre training. My previous half PR of 5:18 was on a course where the bike was 3 miles short, so I am now more than satisfied to call this race my true 70.3 PR! Totally unexpected, totally unbelievable.

Finish - 5:23:48 9/71, 56/614 F, 494/2425 OA

Placing top 10 in my age group was also exciting in such a big race; I even considered sticking around for the Worlds rolldown as I knew that there were 3 spots for the taking, but I also was freezing and we had a long drive back to Boston ahead of us. At the end of the day, I was super happy with my performance but I also didn't really feel like I deserved a Worlds slot - I really want to be in that top 5 group to feel like I earned it. 

I feel like I say this after every tri, but this race once again solidified how much I love this sport and how much fun I have racing it. I once again enjoyed the entire day and honestly loved navigating the challenges of the wind and rain. I'm PUMPED to have found a fueling strategy that might actually get me through a full without stomach issues, and I'm already thinking of how I can start trimming off the minutes at this distance in the future. It's still hard to picture where I could possibly cut off another 10-15 minutes to really break into the upper echelon of age groupers; I know the bike is probably the biggest place to start, and I think I have room to get back to an even better place on the run too. But if there's been one moral of the story this season, it's that racing without expectations is a whole lot of fun...and sometimes the best surprises happen when you least expect them. What a great race to close out triathlon season 2024 - can't wait to see what's next! 

49 and feelin' fine: Sea To Summit Tri 2024 Race Report

This race...oh man, this race. Where to even begin? Well, I guess we'll begin at the beginning. Sometime around this time last year, I was coming off the high of Placid and found myself down an internet rabbit hole of crazy European adventure triathlons. I said something about this to Andrew, who looked at me like I was an idiot and said "isn't that like that thing your coworker did?" And thus, I remembered the existence of Sea to Summit, a race that sounds absolutely silly on paper in which you swim in seacoast Maine, bike 90+ miles up to the Whites, and then finish by hiking up Mount Washington. Well wait a second...I wasn't going to do a full Ironman in 2024, but this wasn't an Ironman, was it? This was something totally different! And strangely enough, I had happened to remember the existence of this race RIGHT before registration happened to open. I've always been one to read the signs, and I couldn't have asked for a bigger one. It seemed crazy signing up for a race almost a year away, but that's what I did!

Annnnnd then the race became sort of a vague mysterious thing off in the distant future for about 9 months! In my (unsuccessful) efforts to run a decent Boston this year, I completely dropped triathlon training like it was hot over the winter. I couldn't convince myself to get on the trainer, I got to the pool like twice, I was convinced that I really just needed to *run* and maybe I would magically turn back into the runner I was still convinced that I could be. Not to skip to the end of the story or anything, but I think S2S actually solidified the realization that I've been slowly coming to for a long time: even if it were possible (which I don't think it is) I don't actually want to *be* that runner anymore. I want to be a triathlete. Triathlon is what makes my heart soar, the sport where training and racing actually fill me with joy, and life's too short to not be doing the stuff that makes you the happiest. (See also: why I am NOT signing up for Boston in 2025). So Boston happened, great, and it seemed like I had all the time in the world to get ready for S2S, but as it turns out when you are starting from kind of square 0 in 2/3 events in the race, "all the time in the world" goes by pretty darn quick. So, as has apparently become custom, I CRAMMED for this race.  If this sounds familiar, it's because I did the exact same damn thing for Placid last year (see again: why I am NOT signing up for Boston next year!) The good news was, Andrew and I started off the hiking season hard because we wanted to finish the 48 (which we did in July!), I already had Loon on the schedule, and I really found a lot of enjoyment in adding trail running to my life, which made me feel solid about the hiking component of the event. Swimming was...swimming, as it always is. I basically swam 2000ish yards in open water once a week and that was about it for my swim training lol...I felt a little uncertain about my swim speed without a wetsuit (which I assumed the race would be) but confident in my ability to go the distance.

And then, as always, there was the bike. My love, my hate, my white whale lol. I felt like I had to jump from basically 0 riding to doing 4 hour rides VERY abruptly which was definitely a shift, and it took a couple of weeks to feel like I got my legs back under me. But I've gotta say, once I did, I was AMAZED at how quickly things came back on the bike. I felt like I was maybe not as fast as I was last year, and I knew my overall volume was not where it really should have been (I did 2 40 mile rides, 3 60 mile rides, and 2 80 mile rides total in training) but I was cautiously optimistic, particularly after riding the first part of the course in June and getting a feel for the fact that the climbing in the early part of the course was nothing too crazy. I did a couple of long rides with a lot of climbing in NH and a lot of rides in ATROCIOUSLY humid weather, and being able to accomplish those without too much strife definitely boosted my confidence, but I still felt like the bike was by far the greatest unknown of the entire race.

The other challenge about this race is the logistical aspect, particularly on the bike and run; as a self supported race it was my job to figure out what things I needed Andrew to have for me on the bike and where, getting all the required materials for my run/hike backpack, and in general just filling a lot of bags with a lot of stuff in the days leading up to the race. I wrote up this ridiculous document for myself and Andrew of logistics, packing lists, etc which seemed like overkill but I think definitely ended up making the day go smoothly - what can I say, I'm a logistics queen! I took the day off Friday to allow for a leisurely morning which was lovely; I went out to Mystic for a quick swim to remember what swimming in a wetsuit felt like, then took a couple loops around the lake to test out Bheithir after his tuneup the night before. I ended up topping 18 mph without even trying (have not hit 18 mph average on any ride in over a year lol and it's a rare occurrence!) so that felt like a good sign. A random man in the parking lot also was ogling my bike (not me hahahaha) and commented "that's a pretty sweet ride you've got there...I bet you can go fast on it!" We got what felt like millions of bags and the absurd amount of food and snacks that I had bought on a supermarket sweep run to Market Basket the night before loaded into the car and hit the road for the drive up to the NH/Maine border.

The timing worked out pretty well; we drove for about an hour and then stopped at Smuttynose for lunch which was lovely - a turkey club and a crisp Mexican lager on the patio was an ideal lunch. We then stopped at Philbrick's so I could buy a new pair of sunglasses because I somehow managed to lose my favorite pair inside our house after my ride last weekend...don't ask how...and then got checked into the Microtel in Dover which appeared to be a popular pick for prerace lodging...I somehow doubt the Microtel has ever had such a wide selection of fancy bikes on its premises in recent memory lol. We then headed over to Spring Hill for packet pickup. I'm familiar with the venue; it was the site of my first half iron tri and I did the oly two years ago (and crashed...lol). Sea to Summit is a small race, with only 125 spots, and so packet pickup felt really small and intimate. As always, I was taken aback by the male to female ratio - it's literally the same in every triathlon, but it will never stop confusing me! Out of the 120 athletes who started the race, only 39 were women...like, really? It's wild, but it also makes me feel proud to be a woman in such a male dominated sport. I joked with Andrew that he was helping to fight the patriarchy by having me be the racer and him being the support porter, lol. Speaking of which, of all the dumb things I could be excited about I was SO EXCITED to find out that the swim caps for the women's wave WERE NEON GREEN!!! Yes, that is deserving of 3 exclamation points lmao. One of my silly irrational annoyances is that the women's waves almost always get assigned hot pink caps, so I now have like 7 hot pink caps, but I love neon green (when I did my solo Ironman, I bought myself a lime green cap for it because of this very thing lol) and so I was absolutely delighted by this development. 

With everything sorted out in that department, we went and got a pizza and an iced coffee for me for the morning and then headed back to the hotel, where I spent what felt like an excessive amount of time putting food into bags and checking and double checking that I had all the required stuff in my run backpack. I had managed to lose the toggle that attached my bike light to the bike somewhere in the process of charging it and after spending far too long trying to macgyver a solution I finally found it under the a/c unit, crisis averted. We were trying to find a feed of the Olympic opening ceremony but couldn't figure out what channel it was on and so ended up watching basically the same loop of the local news on repeat - I will now forever think of the Boar's Head deli meat recall when I think of this triathlon, lol. I ran into John and Paul in the lobby while taking some stuff down to the car and we chatted for a bit which somehow only made me more nervous. I had been ping ponging back and forth between cool and confident ("my long rides have all been hilly and have gone really well" "I KNOW these mountains and I know exactly what I'm in for, I'm way more prepared" "The swim will be fine." lol) and panicking ("the ride has so much elevation!" "I don't actually know how I'm going to feel hiking after that long of a ride!" "WHAT IF I GET A FLAT") but in the end I knew that I had to believe that I could do the thing, with or without a 'perfect' level of training. Andrew and I finally found the channel where the opening ceremony actually was and I stayed up probably later than needed watching the unhinged opening ceremony...hey, at least it was a good distraction! Finally went to bed around 9:15 with the alarm set for 3:30...woof.

I slept about as well as could be expected given the circumstances and felt well rested when Thunderstruck started blasting from my phone at 3:30. There was quite a bit to do and I got right to it - coffee, banana, starting to munch on graham crackers, sending Andrew down to the car (he honestly was a saint all day; I literally commanded him to start taking stuff to the car while I sat in bed and braided my hair and he was like yes ma'am hahaha), and mentally double checking that I had everything I needed. While taking my bike down to the car I saw John sitting in the van that he was driving as Paul's porter, and something about that image really helped shake off the nerves - John in a van, it's the ass crack of dawn, and we're about to go do sports across a long distance...hey, this was nothing more than just a solo, multisport Reach the Beach! And we all know Reach the Beach is my favorite thing in the whole wide world. 

We drove the short 15 minutes over to Spring Hill listening to various pump up jams (including Rumble Slow, obvi) and I had to laugh when the last song playing before we turned off the car was "What the Fuck Is Happening Here?" - truly, could a better question have ever been asked? Here are 120 crazy people and their crazy friends and partners roaming around transition before the sun is even up, ready for a race that finishes almost 100 miles from where they are currently located...yes, that's VERY normal behavior. It was a beautiful morning though, with gorgeous dawn light over the misty lake - truly magical, and I said a little thanks to the weather gods because if nothing else, the day we were blessed with for this race is literally about as good as it possibly gets for the end of July in New England (no rain, no wind, no humidity, highs in the mid 80s). 

I inflated my tires and went to get my transition set up; there was open racking but bizarrely everyone seemed to have decided to set up on the same 3 racks closest to the transition exit. I kept on walking and found a rack entirely to myself - that didn't last, as I had the misfortune of being joined by an older woman who genuinely seemed to have no spatial awareness, had her bike racked in the wrong direction with no space between hers and mine (despite the fact that the entire rest of the rack was empty), and had her shit spread out ALL over the place...seeing as this is a race where everyone is required to be an experienced and relatively high level triathlete, it seemed wild to me that this chick didn't seem to understand basic transition etiquette, and I found it super obnoxious, but I just continued to move my bike over towards the end of the rack. Meanwhile, I didn't quite understand exactly why she HAD so much stuff - this was only the swim to bike transition, so I literally had my bike shoes and socks on the ground, and then my helmet, sunglasses, and food set up on my bike. Very confusing.  

I got body marked (told the woman "49 and feelin' fine...the first of many times I would decide to use that phrase during the day)  and hit the porta potty last time, then it was time to put on my wetsuit, because the swim was somehow WETSUIT LEGAL! My watch says the water was 77 degrees which is right on the borderline but hey, the rules are the rules and I will take it. I ate my Gu on the way down to the start as the time had elapsed VERY quickly and we were already inside of 15 minutes to the race start. I handed Andrew my Gu wrapper (having a porter is the greatest) and then went in for a quick warmup swim. Did a few strokes out practicing my sighting towards the weird diagonal buoy and then came back and let Andrew wipe his sticky Gu hands on my now wet trisuit lol. Hey, can't say I didn't try to make it a quality experience! There were a few quick prerace announcements and then the first wave (men under 45) was off and shortly after the next wave (women and relays was heading into the water). I can't even actually remember if there was a horn or if someone just said go, but just like that the day had begun!

The swim - 1800yd, 31:37 (1:45/100yd)

I had NO idea where to position myself in the group, and having not been in a mass start since that very first half iron back in 2019 the first few minutes of the swim were JARRING, to say the least. I feel like in the time trial starts even when there is contact it at least sort of makes *sense*, and you're either passing or being past so the moment ends quickly, but this was just a few minutes of utter chaos. I was slapping and being slapped, I got punched or kicked hard right in the goggles, and it was really difficult to actually get into my stroke because there was just no space to put my arms. But true to my persona of being nothing if not a calm swimmer, I rode it out, let the weird strokes to try to get out of the washing machine happen, and found my spot in the pack while singing a little song in my head ("I was made for loving you baby...you were made for loving me...") to try to get myself in a groove. Soon enough, the pack started separating itself out and I was able to find open water...and once I found open water, I felt GOOD. My stroke felt smooth, I was sighting like an absolute champion, and I could already feel myself moving up through the wave of women I had started with which reminded me, as every swim I've every done reminds me, that I need to actually have some confidence in myself and start further up in the field because I do not belong in the middle or the back! I was thinking of the song from The Last 5 Years where she sings "I am a GOOD person...I am an ATTRACTIVE person...I am a TALENTED person..." but replacing person with swimmer. It wasn't even midway through the first lap when I already found myself passing the pink caps of the men who had started 2 minutes before me, which also made me feel really good. I got a little confused during the first loop as the long leg of the triangle had one more buoy than I thought, which I had a hard time seeing between the fog and my goggles fogging up. I took a second to stop and defog my goggles and assess my surroundings and then was pretty quickly able to sort things out and continue. I have not yet figured out a reliable way to keep my damn goggles from defogging - this time I even used the little defogging wipes, and still no dice - but at least after one 10 second stop they were clear for the rest of the swim.

I got around the first lap turn buoy and knew that this was the turn where I have tended to get a little lost on this swim in the past, but I sighted like a CHAMP and was able to take what I think was a pretty darn straight line to the diagonal buoy. I continued to pass people throughout the swim and really was continuing to feel good - just motoring along, counting in my head to sign, and all in all feeling like the buoys were coming up a lot more quickly than I expected. At one point I came motoring past a group of pink caps and in my head just said BYEEEEEE and giggled a little bit to myself. When my 1500 yd split showed up I finally decided to look at my watch and the main thing I noticed was that the first number was an 8....AKA A PACE I HAVE NOT SWAM IN OPEN WATER IN A YEAR! Like honestly I sleep on my swim ability and I train the swim like the laziest person alive but the fact that I can pull these performances out of my butt really reminds me that I really don't suck at swimming. I had been low key stressed about this part of the race because I knew my training was downright terrible (like...swimming once a week if I was lucky, exclusively doing chill swims in open water and no workouts, and never swimming more than 2000 yd in any one swim terrible...) but as I said on Strava, I think rock solid, consistent swims might be my triathlon superpower lol. 

Soon enough I was coming out of the water; the course was a little shorter than the advertised half iron distance which I was actually a little bummed about because it would have been a massive PR, but no matter - it was still a crazy fast swim and I was delighted with having an extra buffer for the bike. I came out of the water and remembered that we were supposed to yell our number, so of course I once again yelled "49 and feelin' fine!" But I was indeed feeling VERY fine! Just as I have at the triathlons I've done at this venue, I casually walked up the giant hill to transition...no sense wasting extra energy to gain like 30 seconds trying to sprint up this stupid grass hill. I saw Andrew waiting at the top of the hill and just waved at him like a little kid and yelled "I SWAM SO FAST!!!" 

When I got into transition of *course* the annoying lady next to me had also just finished the swim, and her whole family was standing around her transition zone, and I sort of was like dude can you let me LIVE?! I ate my little rice krispie treat, attempted to wipe off my grass covered feet (forgot to bring a towel to transition, what can ya do) and got my shoes and socks on. Andrew was standing by giving me cute little cheers but I didn't really need anything. As expected it was a pretty quick turnaround - 5 minutes or a little under including the walk up the hill. It was time to mount up for the great unknown of the day - the bike!

The bike - 91.8 miles, 5:21:57 riding time (17.1 mph), official time 5:41 inclusive of T1 (~5 minutes), 5 minutes of stoppage time during the bike (2 stoplights and 2 aide stops), and T2 (~9 minutes by my calcuations)

The first section of the bike course is so lovely; it gives me IMWI vibes with rolling hills, quiet country roads, and farms as far as the eye could see. Coming out of transition I turned on my navigation for the course; the first section was the trickiest to navigate and with the most turns, and I hadn't done any recon on it so I wanted to make sure I knew where the heck I was going. As it turned out, I left my watch on navigation mode for the entire race and as a result never really knew how far I was in or how fast I was going...which TBH was absolutely wonderful! Shoutout to my bike computer for draining its entire battery the night before when I tried to load the route into it, I didn't need you anyway!

I just cruised along, getting into a rhythm during the initial few miles of the bike. I felt that I had swam over my abilities and suspected that I'd be getting passed throughout the bike, and in the early going I did have a few people pass me although not nearly as many as I expected. It was an absolutely BEAUTIFUL morning to be on a bicycle, and I immediately felt a sense of gratitude and happiness as I rolled up and down the hills, yelling hi to the cows including some adorable baby cows, and all in all feeling like the vibes were setting up to be very good indeed for the day. 

There was a split in the course at one point as we approached the town of Berwick; I saw a few people in front of me go left while one person went right (the direction my GPS was taking me). I should note that I literally just pulled a random GPS track from last year, and by cross referencing it with the suggested route figured it was the way it made the most sense to take. One of the cool and interesting things about this race is that there actually is no designated bike course; you can get to Wildcat however you think is best. It seems like mostly this shows up in smaller ways like this occasion, but in looking at Strava after the race I saw one person who went a totally different way and cut 3 miles and almost 1000 ft of elevation off the course I did - so maybe I'll have to try that one out next time! There absolutely WILL be a next time, lol. Anyway, to return to the split in the course: I took the right fork, and I'm curious about what the left fork looked like, because the right fork road while lovely took me up a MASSIVE hill! I kind of laughed as I wondered whether there was a hill on the other side, but I wasn't too bothered about it as I figured it would just serve as a nice warmup for all of the climbing to come. I reentered the main pack at sort of an awkward point; I think it's possible that the way I took was slightly shorter as it felt like I was entering a group of different people than I had left, but either way I found myself back in the main group and now on roads I knew heading towards 153 and New Hampshire.

The first section of riding was a little bit crowded as everyone sort of tried to figure out their positioning and speed. From the gun I was absolutely appalled by the behavior of some of the men around me - passing SO close, literally not saying a word...honestly, that is so dangerous, and so deeply annoying to me. Maybe you need to swim faster if you want to be ahead of the mediocre riders, buddy! On the other hand, what few women were around me in the early stages, including a woman in a pink top, a woman in a red Coeur kit, and a woman in a watermelon trisuit, were all lovely and courteous as we leapfrogged a bit heading out on Salmon Falls road. I did my usual thing that I do when I'm just riding and trying not to think too hard of talking out loud, asking questions like "I wonder if anyone is having a rummage sale today?" because when I rode the course it seemed like there were 100 yard sales going on. I caught up to and passed pink top and red kit relatively quickly, but shortly after was passed by watermelon kit. That turned out to be a blessing in disguise though, because watermelon kit lady was followed by watermelon kit lady's support car, and they were a RIOT. Talk about a cheer squad after my own heart...I assume it was her teenage daughters going absolutely INSANE and while they were obviously mostly cheering for their mom, they were more than happy to spread the love around when I hyped them up and for the remainder of the bike I kind of felt like I had my own extra cheer squad - it was so great! I was literally cracking up watching them scream and wished I could say something to the lady about how much I loved her family, but sadly she was too far ahead and after awhile I lost sight of her.

The initial 15 or 20 miles of the course actually don't have a ton of climbing although they are gradually uphill, but it's really between 20-40 that I feel like you encounter the majority of the worst climbing outside of the final push from Conway up to Pinkham. In my opinion none of the climbs on their own were anything too taxing, but it was more the sum total of them that added up over time. But as we started to encounter these climbs, I encountered something that will never fail to delight me: the fact that I am a CLIMBER. We would start to ascend, and I would all of a sudden pass 4 people, all of whom were hammering away as I just happily spun up the hill. Now, as soon as we headed downhill I would usually get passed back by half of them, but I don't really mind that - I'm a relatively small woman, it's no big surprise that a 200+ lb man is going to be able to go downhill faster than me, that's just physics. I started playing a bit of leapfrog with a main in a bright yellow kit, and after a few passes back and forth he called out to me "hey 49, I'm 39!" We started having little conversations; his name was Chris and he was very pleasant. I joked that climbing is just about the only thing I know how to do on the bike and he said that he wished he could look as relaxed as I did while climbing! We had a nice little conversation about how we were all just a little bit crazy; like what kind of normal person thinks something like this is a good way to spend a Saturday. "But normal is BORING!" I said with a grin, cresting yet another hill. I could think of few better ways to spend the most beautiful Saturday of the summer than on my bike, doing something hard, riding through beautiful small town New England on my way to my favorite mountains in the world. Truly, what could be better?

After awhile Chris stopped for an exchange with his porter and I continued on - I never saw him again but he ended up finishing only a few minutes back from me, which is wild! Way to go, friend #39. The pack in general had spread out somewhat, although I had now found myself playing leapfrog with a pair of GSEP riders who I was finding deeeeeeeply annoying. First of all, they were shamelessly swapping leads and drafting each other, which you are *not* supposed to do...either that or they were riding two abreast, which spoiler alert you are also *not* supposed to do. I found the woman particularly irritating, as she was the one woman all day who insisted on making swooping close passes without saying a damn word. The pack bunched up again for a time when we all hit what felt like the longest stoplight ever crossing route 16; people seemed super annoyed but I just tried to chill out and use the opportunity to grab a drink and enjoy the break. I always feel like I find myself in a strange space in triathlons - I really don't know how to slash don't really want to "race" on the bike per se - I sort of just cruise and smile and roll and try to have fun while putting in good effort, but I'm actually good enough at it that I wind up racing around people who are taking things SUPER seriously, and I always sort of laugh, like, do you even see what we're doing right now? This shit is ridiculous, let's at least enjoy ourselves! I had told John the night before that "if you see me and I'm not smiling, yell at me!" I saw him waiting for Paul at some point and yelled at him, of course making sure to smile. It wasn't fake - I was genuinely having a blast! 

We reached the section that I recalled from my recon ride as "rude", aka full of nasty hills and questionable roads. I recalled a few of the hills in the Ossipee region which I had found VERY unpleasant during my recon ride, and was happy to note that they were not taking nearly as much out of me today as they had then. I was *also* very pleasantly surprised to cruise past annoying duo with a happy grin and a wave as they struggled up the first of the 2 major climbs; the man caught up briefly on the downhill but on the second climb I immediately dropped him again...and I never saw them again. And I was SO. PROUD.  I don't think of myself as a strong cyclists, and my results back up that it tends to be my weakest event...but it is getting a lot less weak relative to my overall ability, and that is pretty neat. I also knew I wasn't too far from my first Andrew stop, and the thought of seeing him at what I was basically viewing as the halfway point helped to get me through the next section, which included my least favorite hill of the entire course (a series of uphill rollers that culminated in a short but STEEP section) and getting smoked by a girl on a steep downhill than ends in railroad tracks. I actually think this might have been the eventual race winner, as I saw on strava she made a wrong turn somewhere and lost 20 minutes at the beginning of the bike, and the speed this girl was going was NOT the speed of anyone else in my general vicinity lol. I found myself feeling SO much more confident riding on the roads than I had in my recon ride and let myself stop being afraid to take the lane. I felt so powerful and confident, and then I started laughing when the voice of one of my patients who loves to sing but is very hard of hearing and somewhat tone deaf singing "I'm KING OF THE ROADDDD" popped into my head lol. 

Soon enough I was approaching the lake where Andrew was waiting and that was so exciting! I had been trying very hard to get enough fuel in; I tried out the Skratch superfuel drink which seems to work pretty well for me, although I only put it in 1 bottle per leg because I was nervous about trying too much of it for the first time in a race. I had drank the whole bottle of superfuel and an additional bottle and a half and had eaten my waffle, a rice krispie treat, and a decent number of chews - although not as many as I'd hoped; my stomach was definitely a bit off probably due to both the high effort and the heat, and I feel like my ability to handle chews is one of the first things to go in those situations. I didn't really end up sticking to any fueling plan per se but just tried to get a decent number of calories in each hour and then eat whatever sounded good - sometimes that was real calories, and sometimes it was just like "you know what, I don't really care what you want you need to throw three chews in your face and just deal with it". But what I was very excited about at this first aid station was the mini cans of Coke I had impulsively bought at Market Basket - that turned out to be the single best purchase of my entire unhinged shopping spree! 

There was a long line of porter cars at Province Lake but I was quickly able to find Andrew at the end. I rolled up and asked for a coke, threw my bottles at him (he smartly told me to just throw all my shit in the grass and he would pick it up later. lol) grabbed my new bottles and then went digging in my bag to decide what to take for the next leg. I grabbed a fruit pouch and another waffle and drank my Coke, which was cold and tasted AMAZING, as Andrew played Rumble Slow per my request on my cue sheet lol. I told him I was happy and feeling great and that I'd see him at the next stop at mile 69 (nice.) and soon enough was back on my bike and off! It seemed like I was there awhile but all told I was only there for a couple of minutes; as it was a popular spot to stop I didn't really get passed much here and at least a couple of people who did catch me were people I caught later on.

I knew the next few miles of the course were quite nice, but then we would move into the section that I had never seen. Coming out of the lake I was sort of bopping back and forth with one guy but otherwise the field had really spread out; it was kind of nice having sort of fresh legs starting off the climb up to the country club, and then I remembered that the next session down into Effingham Center was slightly downhill and lovely, which it was! I started singing "Into the Unknown" out loud because I was headed into the unknown section of the course; again, if I have the energy to put on my own little Broadway show out there, am I really riding hard enough? But I would still argue that having fun >>> a little extra speed, and I know if I'm talking and singing out loud that I'm in a happy place on my bike.

Somewhere in here was the only place on the entire course where I had sort of a negative interaction with a car; I had passed an intersection where a truck was turning left onto the road I was on, and of course when they passed me they felt the need to blow by with a close pass and roll coal in front of me. I was proud of myself though - I kept my composure, held my line, and kind of laughed because the section of the song that I had been singing was "and if I heard you...WHICH I DON'T" and I kind of yelled WHICH I DON'T! at the back of the truck. But honestly, for how narrow and lacking shoulders the roads were and how uncomfortable I had felt at multiple points during my training ride, I was pretty happy with how little I felt impacted or bothered by cars I felt on the whole over the course of the day. 

I must admit that the one section of the course that I had not reconned was pretty rude! I was kind of laughing because the town was Effingham and man was I saying eff you to Effingham. There were a few false flats followed by a nasty curving climb; I honestly think it was my least favorite hill of the entire course. A positive point of the nasty hill was that I finally made a decisive pass on a guy who I had sort of been leapfrogging with since the aid station. There's always something about working a hill and then passing someone who you can tell is working SO much harder...it will never fail to give me a boost. I'm not going to say I'm the fastest climber, but I think I'm good at doing it efficiently, and on this course in particular I felt like I had a certain threshold that I never really wanted to cross in terms of effort. I had no problem getting in my lowest gear and kind of sitting up in the bars and eating and drinking on the uphills - what I found crazy was the fact that I would still be passing people in these moments where I was really making an effort to not put in effort!

Luckily, once we got past the effing town of Effingham, things leveled off a bit and while there definitely continued to be rollers up to Conway, I can't remember anything that I would think of as a climb. By this point I was riding completely alone and there was something kind of cool about just being out in the country, feeling like I was just enjoying myself on a ride. Right before the turn onto 25 there was a huge cluster of porter cars, probably because porter support wasn't allowed on the next stretch so it was sort of a "last chance till Conway" aid stop. There was an awesome hype car on the left side of the road who was totally pumping me up as I passed, throwing fist bumps from afar and just generally giving my favorite type of cheering vibes. Then it was onto a brief stretch on a major road which did have a lovely shoulder, and a right turn onto the isolated stretch of 153 where the cars weren't allowed to go. 

Just after making the turn two amusing things happened; one was that the guy who I was certain I had passed a ways back appeared out of a side road in front of me! The bizarre things that can happen on a course that theoretically has no specific course - I recalled that there was a slightly shorter (if rougher) cut over that he must have taken. I still was riding faster than him and was able to pass quickly; on the whole rest of this stretch I only saw one woman the entire time and otherwise I was completely by myself feeling like I was out for a lovely training ride. The other amusing thing was riding past this absolutely HYPED UP ice cream shop with cute signs welcoming the riders to Eaton or whatever the town was and all of the employees out with cowbells. It was so cute and sweet to see such support for this crazy little race from the community! Definitely need to go back and get some ice cream there in the future, lol.

What to say about the rest of this stretch...it was kind of unexciting, but went by relatively quickly. After a couple of decent inclines the road flattened out quite a bit, which would have been nice if some of the roads weren't so SHITTY - I was really throwing shade on the town of Eaton for the fact that they're apparently obsessed with giving people tickets at the single stop sign in their town, but apparently don't use any of that money to repave their roads...it was rough going. Don't worry, I DID stop at the stop sign on my bike and said out loud to whatever cop might have been watching what a good citizen I was for doing so, lol. But the scenery was pretty, the traffic was minimal, and I was feeling strong, so I just kept grooving along. I had finished my second bottle of superfuel and was starting to get to the point where chews were just no longer feeling like an attractive thing to eat - I feel like I always hit this point at around the 3 hour mark of riding, and once it happens it's really hard to come back from! I ate a waffle and a fruit pouch on this stretch both of which went down pretty well, especially the fruit pouch, even though I almost choked on the cap trying to hold it in my mouth while figuring out how to get the empty pouch back in my trisuit pocket. I'll say it before and I'll say it again: eating while riding is simply ANNOYING, which is often why I feel like I don't get my fueling right in these longer races. Between the fact that I'm clearly riding harder than I do in my day to day life and the fact that trying to manipulate food while riding just irritates me, I sometimes simply stop doing it. Obviously that's not a viable solution to endurance fueling, so it's just one more thing I guess I have to keep working on! 

Because I had my watch set to the route map, I was only paying the vaguest attention to how far I'd actually gone and my 5 mile splits, but before I knew it I realized that I'd hit the mile 65 split and was already approaching Conway. The lonely section had really gone by quickly - I think the lack of giant hills and the fact that by that point I was just kind of in my zone and cruising along really helped. As I rolled up towards town I started thinking about how happy I was to be out here and how excited I was to be riding up into my favorite mountains, my favorite place in the world. I thought to myself that really it would have been fitting if my bib number had been 48, since we had just finished the 48 - but then it occurred to me that the hike up Washington would be my first summit after 48...which made 49 PERFECT. Well, naturally this was the sort of thing to get me all in my feels and I found myself tearing up a little bit thinking about that summit awaiting me as I pushed up the final stretch into Conway.

It was almost comical hitting an incredibly long stoplight as soon as I entered town, particularly because for how isolated I had felt for the entire past hour+, as it turned out there were multiple riders hot on my heels! I chatted for a bit at the light with a guy from New York and we both discussed how we were having a great time. I then almost missed the turn onto Westside Road, along with about 3 other people, but luckily was able to swoop back the way I'd come and avoid a majorly unnecessary detour. I was super excited knowing that Andrew and Gwen would be appearing at any moment - not only for the morale boost, but because I was definitely reaching a point where I could tell I was getting warm, my stomach was no longer overjoyed with the proceedings, and I wanted more ICE COLD COKE. Soon enough they came into view and I waved and grinned like a goon as I approached. I threw all of my shit on the ground for Andrew to deal with once again (did I mention he's the best?), he procured me my desired ice cold Coke, and I spent maybe a little longer than needed trying to decide how many bottles to take for the final 23 mile push. I should note that mentally I viewed this aid stop as basically the end before the climb, and that mindset definitely came back to bite me a bit as Pinkham is only like 11 miles and 23 miles is still a good solid bit of riding to go. But regardless, in the moment of the exchange I was super happy, still feeling great, and extra delighted to have Gwen, who is the reason I was doing this crazy race in the first place, cheering me on as well! I laughed at having to go over railroad tracks as she looked on (the very first time we rode together I almost immediately fell going over tracks in Lincoln, breaking my derailleur hanger right before riding the Kancamagus and so doing that without my lowest gear...lol...) and I joked that I really couldn't mess it up with her watching! With my cheer crew in the rearview I headed off to tackle the final section of the bike course.

When I had pictured the bike in my head, the section that followed this aid station stop was "basically done" - a super dumb thing to think, as the last 23 miles of a 90+ mile ride, mostly uphill, in the head of the day, is definitely NOT "basically done" lol. I was still feeling decent on the West Side Road section but was starting to notice some problems - the biggest one was that my body did NOT want to be in aero anymore. I could only tolerate it for a few minutes before my arms and shoulders started cramping up, which was probably half dehydration and half lack of time spent in aero. Either way, it wasn't pleasant, and by the time I turned into Conway I was already looking forward to getting off my bike. I also ALWAYS forget how long the section from Conway to the notch actually is - in my head you're in Conway and then you basically turn right onto the climb, but that is most definitely not the case. There's still quite a bit of town riding, not to mention the section out by Storyland, before you get to that final 10 mile climb, and quite frankly I just wanted to get to the damn climb and be done at this point. I had been trailing a woman for awhile as we crossed some train tracks, which were ROUGH (as a side note, there are definitely more than the 5 advertised railroad track crossings on this course). She stopped and got off her bike, apparently having lost her bottle, and I weirdly never saw her again. I was so pleased about not having lost my bottle that I hardly noticed that it was actually out of the cage and in my aero bars rolling around...that's what I get for getting cocky, haha. Luckily I noticed it before it rolled out and was able to cram it back in and continue on.

There's not too much to say about this stretch up until the climb. I was definitely tired of riding, definitely starting to get a little nervous about the hike, and definitely getting hot. I rode past Ledge Brewing and definitely wished I could have a beer under the trees in the shade, and I was definitely glad that I had grabbed my extra bottle instead of leaving it behind. While we had been blessed with low humidity for the first time all month, the sun was high in the sky and the temperatures were definitely rising, and as usual I was pretty sure I had not been drinking as much as I probably should have.

But at long last, I made the right hand turn that leads into the notch, and I knew I was finally on the final climb! It was at this point I finally checked on the actual time of day and was SHOCKED to see that I was running more than half an hour ahead of my best case scenario. Like...what?! How fast had I been riding?? I was amazed with myself and also really happy that I had such a big buffer for the upcoming climb. I was definitely feeling the effort in my legs and I approached the notch with a pretty relaxed attitude - I knew I had to climb a mountain after this, and I knew I was well ahead of my pace, so I didn't really see the point in trying to hammer up the hill and further blow out my legs. The amazing thing was, even with this relatively chill pacing, I still found myself catching up to and passing people, including a couple of men and watermelon kit lady, who I had to give a shoutout about how awesome her support crew had been throughout the day. 

And then, suddenly, we were at the big climb...which, I'm not gonna lie, felt a LOT worse after 85 miles of riding! I could really tell I was tired, especially on one of the later steep pitches which I had kind of forgotten about and felt like it went on FOREVER. Still, it was an absolute bluebird day in terms of views and I tried to just savor the scenery. I said "what a day, huh?!" to a woman as I passed her and she looked at me like I was insane, but really if you can't enjoy the view on these crazy climbs what is even the point of them? I passed another guy pulled over to the side of the road who was dumping water on his head and asked if he needed anything; he said he was OK but just trying to cool off so I gave a thumbs up and continued on. He ended up catching back up to me later on the climb, and I shouted something like "that's how it's done!". Chug, chug, chug, one pedal stroke after another. I started singing "I Was Made For Loving You" again in my head, just trying to keep focused and keep in rhythm. At some point I was startled out of my reverie by a group of old cars blasting by on the road and honking at me...but not in annoyance, in support - it was some younger guys who started yelling encouragement out their windows! I couldn't help but smile, and my smile got even bigger as the Joe Dodge Lodge came into view - finally, I was at the top of the climb! 

The mile or so coast down to Wildcat was a little longer than I imagined it would be, but it was nice to just cruise and know that the bike (as always, the thing I'm most worried about) was in the rearview and I had never had any questions about making the cutoff. I carefully came down the dirt and gravel road into the parking lot - steeper than expected! - and then started looking around for Andrew. The parking lot was full and a white Rogue doesn't exactly stand out in the crowd, so I wandered for a couple of minutes, yelling his name in random directions to see if I could find him. I eventually headed to the gear/backpack check tent where, lo and behold, he was actually just finishing up getting my bag checked...I guess that's the pitfall of being 30 minutes ahead of schedule, lol. He showed me to the car and was absolutely the best transition person EVER...even better than those miracle people in Ironman transitions. He was immediately asking me what I needed...and surprise surprise, what I needed/wanted most was another Coke, haha. He had gotten a fresh bag of ice which I shoved down my shirt and into my hat, and helped me fix my bib number since it apparently needed to be on my front. I laughed when I ended up getting it done myself and he turned around and was like "lol you did that way faster than I could have." "I have a lot of practice!" I joked. I finally had to pee but figured I'd deal with that up at the lodge which I knew had bathrooms right off the trail as opposed to wasting time walking over to the Wildcat building and trying to find them. Andrew had also bought me an ice cold seltzer ("I was at a gas station and tried to think of what you might want when you finished the bike"...is he a GEM or what?!)

Having gotten all of my shit in order, I headed over to the medical check where the doctor checking us in was very surprised when my answer to the question of how I was doing was "GREAT!", and then was very impressed with all my real food salt that I had in my pack. Now, as we shall see, I wasn't going to CONSUME much of that real food, but that's neither here nor there. Either way, I was cleared to go, and so I headed up to the road and onward to Mount Washington!

The hike - 2:25

The first section on the road leading up to the lodge was definitely runnable, but I had already done the calculus and decided that power walking made more sense for me in terms of energy conservation and overall performance. As always, my stomach was pretty much fucked coming off the bike and I felt like overheating was a real danger, so I just briskly walked along, drinking my cold lime seltzer, munching on a pack of cheese crackers, and appreciating the cooling effect of the ice in my hat and down my bra. I gave some cheers to the cyclists coming in on the opposite site (and felt a particular happiness when I saw the rude woman who I had passed much earlier coming in well behind me...I cheered her on out loud but then may or may not have crossed my fingers hahaha). A couple of people passed me jogging up this stretch, including one woman who clearly had not read the race packet and seemed to have no idea where TF she was going. Throughout the race there was nothing I found more irritating than people who seemed clueless, as the whole point of this race is that you prepare for it on your own and don't expect hand holding! I knew where I was going, anyway, so I answered her questions but more or less left her to her own devices.

I turned into the lodge and made a beeline for the bathroom - a move which was quickly proven to be silly as I realized between my backpack and the way my bib was pinned to my trisuit there was really no quick and easy way to get my shorts off...all in all I love racing in a trisuit but the bathroom situation is one thing that drives me crazy. So naturally, I chose the disgusting move of just peeing in my trisuit, in the general direction of the toilet, and then splashing myself with the ice cold water from the sink and hoping I didn't smell like pee the rest of the day. Honestly, the water was so cold and felt AMAZING that perhaps this really *was* the move after all! That sorted, I headed on up and onto the Tuckerman Ravine Trail and breathed a sigh of happiness. I was in my happy place, and I got to go HIKING...how amazing was that?!

It quickly became clear to me that many of the people in this race who may be excellent triathletes, and certainly strong cyclists, did not have the White Mountains experience that I did. I made quick work of a pack of about 5 people very early on in the trail, including clueless woman. They all seemed completely mystified that this was not really a runnable grade and didn't seem particularly excited about the prospect of the hike. Later on, I passed a man in a hardcore tri kit, aero calf sleeves, the works who was absolutely fighting for his life on the side of the trail, and I am an ASSHOLE but I got so much satisfaction from going blowing past this man who probably spent a bazillion dollars on his bike but clearly had not prepared properly for the hiking portion of this race. What can I say...I thrive on being a scrappy little triathlete lol.  I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my focus on hiking and trail running this summer, and also for keeping things conservative on the end of the bike and the walk up the road. My stomach was in a bit of dire straits but my legs actually felt incredible - it was very similar to how surprisingly strong I felt during Bondsanity. I guess sometimes what you need for a hike is just a really long warmup!

The first couple of miles of Tuckermans is just a consistent steady grade up a rocky slope - it's not super technical but more just annoying in the sense that you have to watch your foot placement with every step. At some point along the way I caught up to the guy who I had passed cooling off back in the notch. As it turned out, we were very similarly paced hikers and we ended up spending basically the next 2 hours together. We chatted back and forth about ourselves and our race backgrounds; he swore that he was never going to do an Ironman especially after this experience, and I told him never to say never.  We contemplated jumping into the river at various points but there never was really a good opportunity where we got close, so we just kept on trucking up the steady grade. Other hikers coming down the mountain had clearly gotten a sense of what was going on and we got plenty of encouragement - one lady made me laugh by encouraging us that "there's still plenty of daylight to get down!" to which we replied almost in unison "Oh don't worry, we only have to hike UP!" Thank God, haha. At some point I realized that I really should eat something even though my stomach still wanted nothing to do with it, so I shoveled my Take 5 bar into my face and washed it down with some water...it was not my favorite thing I had ever eaten, but it got the job done. 

Eventually we reached the Hermit Lake shelter, which I knew was where the real climbing would begin, and which also represented the last major cutoff checkpoint before the finish. With my stronger than expected ride I knew that things were never really in doubt, but it still felt good to have checked another box and know that I had plenty of time to make it up to the summit. I called out my number to the volunteer ("49 and feeling fine!", of course, which got a laugh and also sort of an incredulous look) and continued on into the forest trail. The headwall coming into view over the lake was SPECTACULAR - just really a breathtaking scene and another moment where I had to pause for a second and really just appreciate how cool this thing I was doing really was! I passed my friend #37 as he was filling up his water at the spring, and ended up behind a pair of guys who I assume were French Canadian, as they were speaking in French. They were moving at pretty much the same pace as me, so I just latched on behind them and buckled down for awhile. I was definitely starting to feel the fatigue in my legs as well as probably some effects of underfueling, but my stomach was telling me not to try anything stupid. I took a Gu at some point in here more for the salt than anything, as it was definitely still hot out and I could tell I was probably in need of some electrolytes, but didn't really feel like I could stomach anything more substantial. 

The climbing began in earnest once we left the shelter and I tried to fall into as steady of a rhythm as I could. After awhile we reached the true base of the headwall, where a volunteer was stationed (side note - what a location and what a day to get to sit in the mountains directing traffic!) and pointed us towards where the trail snaked up the side of the headwall. Unfortunately in the state we were in, neither of the French guys, nor me, nor #37 who by now had caught up to me managed to process the information correctly, and so we headed up a segment that sure looked like a White Mountains headwall trail...but after about 100 yd we realized that we were definitely not on the trail. Oops! We backtracked, hilariously accounting for the 25 ft or something of negative elevation in my Strava activity. I'm actually not sure what happened to the French duo, as #37 was now leading me and I lost track of them behind me shortly thereafter. #37 and I continued onwards, lamenting the heat. He had the great idea of sticking his hat into one of the waterfalls and then dumping the water over his head as he put the cold hat back on - a genius idea, and I immediately followed suit. He then shared that he was clinically allergic to heat and so had learned a thing or two about staying cool in races...I was clearly hiking with the right person! The scramble up the headwall was of course more challenging in my current physical state, but what a blast - it was never particularly *hard* in comparison to a lot of the trails I've done in the Presis, just a fun, slightly scrambly climb. The groups of other hikers were also becoming more frequent this close to the summit and were now cheering us on in earnest - my favorite was a group of women who saw me coming and went into full hype train mode, including screaming GIRL POWER!!! which I absolutely ate up. 

We came across another volunteer who told us we had 3/4 of a mile and some ridiculous amount of elevation to go; the distance sure sounded nice but I knew with that elevation it wasn't exactly going to be a walk in the park. About 10 minutes later we came across ANOTHER volunteer who gave us basically the exact same data! "Hey, I think I've heard that before!" my new friend jokingly said. We were pretty much at the summit cone by now, the smoke from the cog and the antennas from the summit buildings peeking over the top in the distance. By now our energy for conversation had pretty much run dry and my hiking buddy and I just continued to put one foot in front of the other in silent camaraderie. By this point the fatigue was really starting to get to me - I was making more and more sloppy missteps and at one point half fell, slamming my shin on the rough presidential rocks and ripping it open. A dim light came on in the back of my mind identifying my increasing noodlieness as not only fatigue, but also hypoglycemia - nothing makes me shakier, weaker, and worse and coordination than needing more fuel. I grabbed the first thing available from my pack, a bag of Skittles, ripped them open and proceeded to shovel a massive handful into my mouth. I had dumped more than I could fit into my mouth into my hand, and in a moment of pure ridiculousness I could not bear the thought of littering on the summit, so began trying to dump the skittles back into the opening of the bag. It was very reminiscent of me holding chips in my hand at Lake Placid; I truly don't know why my brain becomes so obsessed with not littering when my body is basically shutting down lol. Meanwhile, the ball of Skittles I had crammed into my mouth proceeded to coalesce into a ball, which I had to chew like cud for several minutes before it finally broke down enough for me to swallow - the mental image of my mouth open chewing while heavily breathing as I attempt to rapidly scramble my way up a wall of rocks is deeply entertaining to me, and I hope it was for the nearby hikers as well.

Newly energized, I began to attempt to pick up my pace as I could see a couple of straggling athletes in the distance, who I subsequently was able to pass. I also sped up to pass a loud and obnoxious pack of teenage boys, because I was not going to let a bunch of teenagers hike faster than me even after all of these hours of activity, lol. I don't even know how much time elapsed on this last stretch - it couldn't have been more than 10 or 15 minutes, but time seemed to slow down. My focus was isolated to the next rock in front of me, how to best navigate the next section, where to put my foot or my hand. The summit, which had seemed so close from the base of the cone, seemed to be continuously receding into the distance like some kind of mirage. But finally, FINALLY, I could make out the sign where the auto road crossed the trail, and sure enough there were Andrew and Topper, happily waving at me. I gave a big smile as I stumbled up the final stretch of rocks and across the road.

I had assumed that we'd run up the last stretch of auto road as you do in Mount Washington, but in a cruel twist we were actually directed to go up the STAIRS, which somehow seemed so much worse than more uphill. #37 had passed me and been greeted by his wife at the bottom of the stairs; Andrew literally told me to "go outkick him" (LOL) and I told him I wasn't going to outkick my hiking buddy! Except...we got to the top of the stairs, and the two of us kind of looked at each other and mutually agreed we'd run the last stretch across the parking lot to the finish together. It was then that I saw there was another woman who had *just* crested the stairs, and I will tell you that I do not know WHAT overcame me but suddenly I felt the uncontrollable urge to defeat her. I broke out into an all out SPRINT, slapping my hands onto the finishing table at the exact same time she did. I felt like an absolute psychopath, lol, but it was an awesome way to end the race. 8 hours and 38 minutes later, I had done it!  I high fived #37 and random lady (who seemed slightly bemused about where I had appeared from, lol) and then headed off to find my crew. 

I was disgusting, covered in pee and salt and sweat, and so happy to see Andrew and Topper, who showed me to the car and got me a seltzer and a beer, continuing to be the best support crew there ever was. I then got to do MY MOST FAVORITE THING: go and sit on some rocks near the top of the trail, drink a beer, and cheer for the athletes still coming in! It. was. glorious. While the weather had been warm for racing, it was absolutely SPECTACULAR for existing atop the rockpile - one of those rare days up there where it's warm, there's almost no wind, there are views for days...I just wanted to soak it all in. It was also hilarious to see many of the regular humans who were just doing the hike straggling up to the top, looking just as bad if not worse than those of us who had completed a whole triathlon prior. My personal favorite was one woman who looked completely worn out and loudly swore that she was "NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN". 

The clock was winding down towards the final finishers, but I saw no reason to leave until all was said and done. John and Paul came into view near the end; Paul apparently had been dealing with horrible cramping at the start of the hike and almost missed the Hermit Lake cutoff, but managed to make it through and got to the finish in plenty of time. The final cutoff was at 4:30, and with minutes remaining we suddenly saw a figure appearing in the distance. The athletes who'd been staying to cheer and the random people at the summit who'd become spectators alike got on their feet, squinting towards the person. He looked like he was struggling, and time was ticking down. "4 MINUTES TO THE CUTOFF! YOU CAN DO THIS!" someone shouted. The figure came closer and it became clear he was an older gentleman, clearly hurting, but absolutely fighting until the end. We watched him climb the stairs and jog to the finish table, slapping it with less than 3 minutes remaining. Not gonna lie, I absolutely got emotional watching it. 

With the race, over, we finally loaded up and headed back down the road to Wildcat for the post race BBQ and another beer, meeting an adorable puppy and chatting with some other racers once there. I had had dreams of going out to Big Day brewery afterward, but in the end we (and by we I mean me lol) were so exhausted that we ended up just going back to the hotel and crashing...man, that's one thing about getting older, I just can't post race party like I used to! LOL. It was kind of a mindfuck going to bed in Gorham, NH when I had woken up that morning in seacoast Maine and knowing that I got the whole way there under my own power...I was kind of in awe of what I was capable of and really fell asleep feeling so proud of how well I had performed all day long. 

Overall, I absolutely LOVED this race - I feel like it showcased so much of what I love about this ridiculous sport, and was also extra fun for a triathlete like me. I still do and probably always will feel like a little bit of a renegade in the triathlon world - I refuse to conform to a lot of the shit that most high level triathletes view as essential (power numbers! coaching! swimming more than 1x/week! I'm sure there's more lol) but this type of race really shows that there's so much more to racing than just conforming to a plan or numbers - you have to react, you have to work with what's in front of you, and you have to do what works for YOU. A self supported adventure triathlon really brings that message home. And let's be honest, any time I get to race in the Whites, my favorite place in the world? Well, that's gonna be a magic day every single time. I am planning on racing IMLP again next year so most likely will not be repeating this race every year, but it is definitely safe to say that I'll be back in the future!

Sea to Summit (1700 yd swim/93 mile bike/5 mile hike up Mount Washington)

8:38:11

38th OA, 13th woman, 4th AG