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
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