Cotton Country Sprint

Sam McGlone is a pro triathlete I admire. She's a long-course racer. She came to my attention at the Honu 2007, the most recent year that T and I did the race--and the year she chose to jump up to the full IM distance after her impressive 70.3 wins, including the 2006 70.3 championship in Clearwater, Florida, which qualified her for Kona in '07.

In the 2008 October issue of Triathlete magazine, Sam wrote about the difference between pros and the "average Joe" triathlete: "A common problem among triathletes is training way too much and not racing enough."

This sentence jumped out at me.

Earlier this year I mixed up my season by taking a 3 month hiatus from racing, with only a fairly recent return to the circuit. I tend to train long, as this is the most comfortable distance for me. But starting in August, I've been sprinkling in some weekend sprint competitions--with progressively improving results. I've never been good at threshold efforts--they hurt too much, and my threshold is disappointingly slow--but these sprint races have served a purpose and challenged my capacity. Sam's words have helped me to realize that rather than wallowing in the self-absorption of my points standing in the SW Challenge series, these races have built on my early season base, extended my skill level, and touched up my speed. I have never been a "sprint" type athlete, but coupled with the external reward of placing on the podium, and the internal reward of pushing my limits, I now call these weekend forays, "fun" (whodathunk?), functional and applied interval training.

Yesterday, T and I decided to drive south to Levelland, Texas for the SPC Cotton Country Sprint Triathlon: 5K run, 13 mile bike, 300 yard pool swim. Since I work until 5 pm, and the drive is 308 miles, we broke up the distance by spending the night in Clovis (clean, new, unused (!) Comfort Inn), got up early, and finished the final 87 miles by watching a pastel sunrise across wide open Texas fields of cotton.

Cotton Country is a small race, which has grown every year to now having about 100 participants. T and I registered in a matter of minutes, set up our transitions, had about 20 minutes for warm up, then gathered in the street to get ready for the start. I hadn't recognized any of the 3 (!) names listed in my age group category, but one of the women happened to announce her age loudly while we were waiting at the start line, so I immediately honed in and marked her as someone to keep an eye on.

The Run:
The men started two minutes in front of us.

Due to my generally poor running performance, I seeded myself at the back of the pack, started at a steady pace, then found my stride and gradually made my way up to the 4th place position--right behind the woman who had identified herself as my competition. She ran well, and kept me on the edge. Another young, blonde woman passed me, and she and my competition spent the next two miles testing each other and surging ahead--which meant I spent my run playing keep-up and hoping I wasn't going out too hard.

Since the run is an out and back course, and the men started two minutes in front of us, we could see the men on the return as we headed for the turn-around. Bobby Gonzales looked up at me as he came flying by. T says that I was breathing so loud he could hear me across the road. He couldn't hear anyone else. Was I making such a ruckus that I disturbed Bobby's run concentration? I was merely trying to make sure I had enough oxygen, but probably sounded like I was drawing my last gasp.

The two women kept up the pace, but at 2 miles started to flag, and definitelylooked tired when they picked up water at the aid station. I went by without pausing for a drink, still worried that I was over doing it, and expected them to match me, but they fell off the back. Instead two other women passed me, neatly, like I was running my standard slow slog. Still, I managed to keep up the pace, reduce the damage, and pass one in transition, while the other disappeared--probably a team. Cotton Country doesn't take splits. I finished 5th on the run. A rough estimate of my time was 26:50, on a course that Muffin thought was longer than 3.1 miles.

The Bike:
The bike was well protected this year, including the turn-around which had both a volunteer and police officer. Even the sandy corner had been swept--or just hadn't gathered sand this year. The course felt a whole lot safer, even if the large trucks on the road certainly had no idea what we were doing...

After reviewing two race reports, 2007 and 2006, I thought I was going to fun on the bike with one humdinger of a tail wind. Instead we had a crosswind, so that after working hard to get to the turnaround and my headwind reward, I found I had to work even harder--and battle thoughts of "there's only 3 in my age group, so why am I working so hard?"--until it suddenly struck me--I could go for the overall, instead of age group, win. Since it was a bit late to suddenly realize I might have a shot at the overall, it was a bit like blowing air into a leaky balloon, but the thought still worked enough to pick up my sagging-in-the-wind bike effort and overtake more men, and one of the females in front of me, to bring me up to 3rd overall on the bike. A rough estimate of my bike time on the 13 miles course was 35:30.

The Swim:
In transition, one of the women I had passed on the bike caught up to me. I was busy trying to get my bike shoes off, so I said, "Don't worry, I'm not in your age group," then looked up and thought,"Uh-oh, did I just lie to that woman?" I felt so bad about unintentionally misleading her that when we got to the pool, together, and she motioned for me to go first, I said, "No, you go." She took off, with me right behind her--and I'll be darned if I didn't pass her within 25 yards, without even trying. T said we both lost time with our polite sillyness.

The swim was down and back in the same lane, for another thrashfest. However, this time, I didn't hover on the edge of panic, just kept on warming up to the water and gradually, opening up my speed. Unfortunately, in a deja vu moment, a large guy passed me--then couldn't keep up the speed. He blocked me from passing, and couldn't negotiate the turns, so as I found myself having to slow down my swim, I got worried that the woman behind me was catching up. I also, now, had no chance of catching any woman in front of me. It was very frustrating, since this was one of the only swims this year where I wasn't panicking. I thought about passing hiimon the right, but there wasn't quite enough room. By the finish, I was pretty irritated, but T, who had watched the whole thing, immediately spirited me away from the pool, which gave me time to pack up my gear, put my irritation behind me, and enjoy the lunch and awards that followed.

T and I both did well.
I love it when we have dual-twin finishes.
He was 3rd place Overall male, I was 3rd place Overall female.
Unfortunately, T had tummy problems on the bike, and ended up placing 2nd in his age group--first in the pool off the bike, but with not enough lead to hold off his competition.
I won my age group.
The woman I passed in the pool was a couple of age groups behind me, and won her age group.
Here is how T congratulated me: "Do you have to keep hogging all the national championship slots?"
Which is how I realized I had qualified again.

The best part about this race, is feeling that I was able to push my pace on the run, and not panicking in the pool.

Sam's advice about training too much, and not racing enough seems to be working for me. Every race brings up my skill--and this year, I'm enjoying it.

We broke up the drive home by stopping in Santa Rosa for a half mile swim in Park Lake, a sink hole 200 yards across with relatively clear water (like Bottomless Lakes in Roswell), large fish, and coolish temps. Lightning came up from the east and cut our swim short, but it was a nice interlude, and made us feel we had done more than "just" a sprint distance work out for the day.

A Fun Sprint in Cotton Country (Oil Wells Included)

This entry is dedicated to Kenneth O’Connor, my partner in pace. Ken and I got to know each other long before we ever spoke or knew each other’s names. He was a presence at most of my early races, first running away from me, now running closer. I used to see his name in the results, just next to mine. I learned to look for those long legs, and try to keep up. Ken is 68. We race each other. I’m fortunate that through the years, we’ve continued at a similar pace. It gives me a familiar person to look for, and a smile and a talk after a race.

On Saturday, September 15, we both participated in the Cotton Country Sprint Triathlon in Levelland, TX. I had thought the race was in Loveland or Lovelland, but found out that it was really “Level” land—as in extremely level. No hills here. Just fields and fields of cotton (which I thought were rose bushes), a smattering of oil wells, and a big stinky smell, which I now attribute to the ethanol factory somewhere in the area, although I could be wrong.

The race was held on the South Plains College campus. Low brick buildings, green lawns, locker rooms about as old as the ones you remember in high school. One toilet hidden behind a curtain. The humidity was visible. The cloud cover and relative coolness a nice way to start a race.

Race start was 9:00 a.m. for the initial 3 mile run. I was happy with that, as we had driven 5 hours the previous evening, gotten the last room in our hotel (Best Western), and gone to bed at midnight. Turns out that Texas time is one hour later than our time, so we lost an hour on the drive. The start was divided up into two waves, men first, women two minutes later, to decrease the crowd in the swim pool for the last leg of the race. When the gun went off, some women went with the first group, and two turned back when they realized their error, but it was hard to know if there were other women in the large crowd of men.

“Right, left, right” were our run directions, and they were apt. Sharp turns around corners led us off campus and out onto a small two-lane road with fields on either side. The water station was less than a mile from the start, on a corner, that was easy to access on the way out, but hard to access for the lead men on the way back, due to the women still making their way from the later start. I was lucky enough to find a runner who was slightly faster than my pace, to pull me pretty much through the entire 3 mile run. I was trying to run hard, knowing there were 6 women in my age group, and that both Helen and Marti could swim faster than me. A good gap in the beginning might allow me to place ahead of them.

I gave thanks for the extra oxygen at a lower altitude.

I chuckled internally at the distraction of our race numbers, which noted we were running for the NCAAA national championships for Cleveland Athletics (now, where did they get these numbers?).

I just about choked on the petroleum product smell that wafted thickly in the air.

I saw the lead male, Bobby Gonzales, flying towards me, well ahead of any nearby competition.

I saw my Law-School-Guy-Who-Doesn’t-Have-Time-To-Train-Anymore, following him in 7th place.

I finished 10th female overall in the run, after sprinting to pass a woman just before the transition area.

My transition stunk. Because I’d sprinted just before the finish, I was now out of breath, and couldn’t move well. I was panting so hard I didn’t drink any water. I’m lucky I didn’t put on my aero helmet backwards.

The bike was a left turn out of the transition area, then “left, right, left” onto a two-lane highway. The headwind was deafening. Not to mention, mind numbing, and leg crushing. I always dump into a larger gear as soon as possible, but the head wind wouldn’t let me. It wouldn’t let me do anything, like make head way, pick up my speed, or feel good about myself. The rough road reduced forward momentum even further. Flip passed me with his usual large-geared, low-cadenced effort, but this time he was surprisingly silent, the usual roar of his disc blown away on the wind.

I saw Law-School-Guy-Who-Doesn’t-Have-Time-To-Train-Anymore had moved up to 5th place. Eventually, he hit T2 in 3rd place. Bobby was still out in front.

The turn around was one of the scariest, for me. There was no one around to stop or warn traffic, or warn the cyclists of cars coming up from behind. There were no orange cones or signs warning traffic of a bicycle race, or that bikes would be crossing the road. I turned to look back, but it’s hard to be 100 % sure at high effort, and the turn just flat out scared me. I’ve never done a high speed race turn around across a road without a grounded human to help me out. I didn’t like doing that.

The return on the bike was high speed and smooth. The reward for the outgoing head wind was the tailwind going back. The high speed made the sandy turns apprehensive. I almost caught up with Flip. I was fortunate enough to move up to 3rd place on the bike.

T2 was characterized by donning a swim cap with my sunglasses on.

The barefoot run to the pool was fine, but once inside the pool area, the slippery, puddled tile was a high-risk fall area. Law-School-Guy-Who-Doesn’t-Have-Time-To-Train-Anymore actually slipped, with a controlled lower to the floor—but it could easily have been worse. Does signing a liability waiver mitigate race director responsibility if someone takes a fall with injury? I almost tiptoed to the pool ladder, losing time but saving my skin, unaware that, at this point, I was looking at a top three podium finish.

The pool swim was a short 300 yards, 6 narrow 25-yard lanes, out and back in each lane. The pool was crowded. Somehow, a number of very large men turned out to be behind me, because they all passed me in the pool. It was a splash fest. Bobby and Law-School-Guy-Who-Doesn’t-Have-Time-To-Train-Anymore were watching from the side of the pool. “Wow,” said Bobby, “I’m glad I don’t have to swim in that.” Never thought about that, but that’s one of those first place perks I guess I’ll never get to know.

I was passed by one woman in the pool (amazing, since usually, it’s the whole field) for a 4th overall finish, but first in my Age Group, 1:15:04.

Law-School-Guy-Who-Doesn’t-Have-Time-To-Train-Anymore finished 4th overall, just 11 seconds out of a third overall podium finish, also first in his Age Group, 1:00:32

Bobby won the whole dang thing in 53-plus minutes. That's for a 5K mi run, 13mi bike, 300 yd swim.

Ken, my partner in pace, won his Age Group. He said he looked for me, but the wave starts separated us by too much.

We all took home miniature cotton bale awards, wrapped in blue, for first place.

All in all, a nice day, with the friendliest, nicest race staff and fellow triathletes. The petroleum smell would probably be the only reason for me not to return—and I’ll probably have forgotten it by next year.

Other Outlaws of the day included (but are not limited to): Helen (my competition, 4th AG), Stuart (6th AG), Carl (1st AG), and Brian (1st AG).