Eagleman 70.3 - Round 1
Cambridge, MD - June 2018
Pre-Race
My sister and I endeavored to tackle this race together in a classic brother-sister showdown. The days leading up to our trip were filled with overconfident (me) and nervous (her) speculation about our race expectations and what we thought lay in store. Now, it’s important to remember that I thought bikes made you fast at this point – ergo, my new Cervelo P3 would see me crush 2:25 on the fast and flat bike course just moments after my swimming prowess delivered a sub :30 swim and right before setting off for what would surely be a sub 1:40 half marathon. The run training I began in March pretty much stopped in March before I started going on 6 and 7 mile unstructured runs every couple of days in the last weeks of training - surely I wasn’t crazy, right?
Our drive down was largely uneventful until we started worrying about whether we should wear wetsuits (borderline temp and we had never swum in them before). Several wetsuits later, I’ve realized that this was not my best idea. Wetsuits tend to break themselves in over the course of a few thousand yards. During Eagleman 70.3, my breathing and shoulders were constricted for the first half of the race as the suit started moving for the first time.
We finally arrived at our phenomenal Airbnb, which was about 40 minutes from the venue but came at a fraction of the cost of staying in Cambridge. On Saturday, we spent some time getting in and out of our wetsuits, checked out the race venue, and racked our bikes. We had a fun night planning out the aspects of our race, talking with my sister’s coach, and asking our mom if she was going to volunteer as a wetsuit stripper after all of her practice helping us out of ours. I slept surprisingly well and woke up energized on race day.
Race Day
We got to the race venue about an hour before the start. This was plenty of time to check bikes, set up transition, and go to the bathroom… it was not enough time to warm up. I swam ~200 yards in a designated part of the river before making my way to the swim corral with my sister. I don’t recommend skimping on warm up (and have gotten increasingly good at taking my own advice), but sometimes you just have to roll with it.
Swim - 28:25 (81st OA)
This was my second time wearing a wetsuit AND third open water swim – yikes! I don’t recommend this approach. The open water environment differs immensely from following the pool’s black line. Churning bodies, sighting buoys, and self-pacing all add to the complexity of racing in open water. My sister and I thankfully both have strong swimming backgrounds, so we self-seeded in the under 30 minute group and got to enter the water together! We quickly got separated and I made my way quite off course (years of swimming along a black line led me to believe I know how to swim straight). I felt a tap from a paddleboard halfway to the first turn and was instructed to swim at a diagonal until I got back to the swim pack. I’m sure there’s a mathematician somewhere with the Vegas odds on this but, of all people to swim over when I got back to the pack, I managed to swim over my sister’s feet! We had ourselves a laugh and then got to work tackling the rest of the course together. We got separated towards the end but, as I exited the water and ran to a wetsuit stripper, I heard my mom yelling “Go Amelia!!” I thought to myself, my name isn’t Amelia… what the heck? Then it hit me that my sister and I managed to start and finish the swim together. She posted 28:20 (77th OA) and I went 28:25 (81st OA). It still ranks as one of my favorite triathlon memories!
T1 - 4:24
We swapped battle stories on the jog to T1 before going to our respective bikes. I was a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I had just accomplished (and what still lay in store) but managed to dry off, put shoes on, and have a snack. My sister and I happened to run out of T1 together while our mom cheered for us from the sidelines.
Bike - 2:34.12 (203 OA)
Well, well, well, well, well… how the turntables… (PRAYING that someone reading this likes The Office… and yes, I know I’m mixing quotes together). I set off for a monster bike split on Daenerys Stormborn (the “unevolved” version of my P3) and quickly dropped my sister. For some reason, I was convinced a sexy bike meant sexy bike splits so it didn’t surprise me to see an average speed of 25 mph as I made my way through part of the field and hit the ~15 mile fast flat out of town. I felt so fresh and strong that surely my goal of 4:30 was within reach. Unfortunately for my ego, disaster struck around mile 30. I no longer had a tailwind and I had essentially just done an hour long FTP test… my pace dropped to 20 mph. My spirits plummeted. My legs began to cramp. I tried several times to stretch my legs but nothing helped. To make matters worse, I dropped a bottle at the mile 45 exchange and my pre-cut Gus leaked all over the xLab bag on my top tube. My pace slowed to a crawl shortly after this and my leg cramps became so severe that I couldn’t even stand up on my pedals to stretch out my calves and hamstrings. I tottered into transition and shouted at my mom that I didn’t know if I would finish the race.
T2 - 5:06
Whelp, this was fun. The 2018 P3 was designed around 23mm tires, but I did this ride with 25s. As soon as I dismounted and started running into T2, my front tire kissed the top of the fork and jammed. Manually fixing it didn’t really solve the issue, so I essentially carried my bike to my rack. I took a couple of minutes to sit and stretch while I switched shoes and tried to rehydrate. There was a lot of positive self-talk involved getting me back on my feet and moving towards the Run Out sign and the sunscreen station. As with Lake Regions Tri Fest, I’m glad that positive self-talk can be enough to keep you in the fight. It makes it that much more meaningful when you break down your personal barriers.
Run - 2:40.00 (638 OA)
I somehow exited transition at a sub-7:00/mi pace… I don’t really know what I was thinking doing that, because I pretty immediately experienced cramping in both quads. Despite slowing down, I ultimately ended up stretching on the side of the road for a couple of minutes. By the time a made it to the mile 1 aid station, a familiar voice said, “You’ve got this, J.!” Seeing Amelia gave me a huge boost and I was able to run with her for a few miles. She secretly knew that none of my “projected times” were remotely possible given my training for this, so she stuck with me for a bit to get my spirits back. Nature unfortunately called for me between miles 3 and 4 and she kept on running. It was approximately 140 degrees in the Port-o-Potty… it sapped every last bit of energy out of me. I naively ignored the food and fluids at that aid station and set out on what would be a grueling 1.5 mile walk to “the restaurant.”
Now, most races only have aid stations; I was lucky enough to strike gold at a double-sided restaurant (the Eagleman run loops back on itself). This provided me with an endless supply of food, drinks, and doting volunteers which I enjoyed for almost 30 minutes. As I sat there recovering, I kept silently willing this young kid to come up and give me the food, ice, etc. I needed so I could meet the definition of outside support and get a free ride back to the finish area. Luckily, the other volunteers kept him occupied. I’m too stubborn to concede defeat in situations like this and knew that my sister would reach the other side of my on-course restaurant if I didn’t get moving. I began to walk-jog with an amazing woman who was keeping her husband in the race through sheer willpower. We stayed together and chatted for a few miles before getting separated at one of the last aid stations.
I began to cry somewhere around mile 12 when several things happened at once. I realized that I was going to finish the race of my own accord, I was still going to somehow break 6 hours if I didn’t walk again, I could hear music coming from the finish line, and a little girl on the side of the road screamed, “GO JONATHAN, YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” I’m tearing up thinking about her as I write this over a year and a half later… I was so confused as to how she knew my name, but I didn’t care (I also forgot it was on my bib). I was so happy that someone else believed in me despite my previously wavering belief in myself. I began to cry in earnest as I made my way down that last stretch of road and turned the corner into the finishing chute. Hearing my name announced as a first timer flooded me with emotion. I don’t remember anything that happened between crossing the line and stumbling around until I found my mom and sister and sobbed into their embrace; I was in so much pain and yet so proud of myself. Despite the trials and tribulations of this race, I resolved to return in 2019 for round 2 of this dance.
