Mighty North Fork 2009 — July 12th 2009
MNF
"They call me Jane, that's not my name" is the lyric on the radio at 4am the morning of the MNF. Crap, now I have that stuck in my head for the day at least the beat is up-tempo. I get out of bed put on my race gear, load up my bike and throw my pack into the truck. Where are my keys? There they are on the kitchen table with my sunglasses—clearly not needed now, pre-dawn and post-storm—and with an envelope. HUH? It's a card from my husband. Today is our legal anniversary. We've been officially married 6 years, he is so sweet.
I kiss him and the kids good-bye and drive out to the North Fork of Long Island, farm & wine country. The drive is easy a quick stop at 7-11 (I need my coffee—the last addiction—I am unwilling to give it up) and I'm off. I drive the back roads cause I like to do that. Give me a winding country road—with the possibility of hitting a deer, over a highway and the possibility of hitting a deer—any day. I get to the race site at 5:30 exactly. Plenty of time to set up. stretch, hydrate, watch the sunrise, socialize and pee.
I am there early, but not early enough to get the end of my rack. Darn. I set up somewhat toward the end, just 4 spots down. I finish laying out my towel with; sneakers, race belt, bike shoes, sunglasses, and helmet. I forgot my bucket to throw my wetsuit, cap and goggles into Damn, first race of the year, there is always something. I apply my body glide to all the important places; armpits, groin etc. No need for blisters today! I spot Mr. B. Just a few spots down. He's 70 and looks 45. There is something to be said about a dedicated triathlete. He tells me this is his last race. He's planning on winning his division and going out in a blaze of glory. I'm sad that he is going into retirement. He has won his division the past two years and I'm looking forward to the hat-trick, even if it is bittersweet.
The sun has risen and the pre-race buzz is in full effect. I hear from My left, "MO!" It's Mimi. She is here to cheer on her daughter Courtney. This is the 4th year we have done this race together. She kicks my ass every year but she passes me on the run a little farther each time. I'd love to get to mile 2 this year. She tells me this may be the last time she does the race. She's a serious marathoner and feels like she is wasting time training for the swim. Mimi has a great idea, she says we should do a relay in Montauk. I'd do the swim, she'd do the run, we just need a biker—I need to woo Jana. [Jana, oh Jana, wanna do a tri-relay? Montauk, October 2010 56 miles of windy, hilly, biking happiness... come on you'll love it!]
It is time to get into the water. Wetsuit and cap on. This is probably the most unattractive outfit I have ever worn—and I have been a bridesmaid like, 12 times. I see Vicki the race director. She is awesome. She's helping me to get a race in my town, hopefully fingers crossed, next August.
Gun sounds, wave one off. I really wish they let the chicks off first. It's so annoying to have to swim through all the slow dudes doing the backstroke. I get in the water and head straight toward the front of the pack. I haven't really practiced open water swimming this season with all the cold and the rain, so I'm just hoping for muscle memory. I'll be at the front of the swim definitely in the top 100 overall. I may seem over confident, but this is one area of the race I actually know something about. These people are runners trying to swim. I am a swimmer trying to run. I tread to the front.
Gun sounds, wave two off. I get a great start right out in front drafting another serious swimmer. Straight, in line with the first buoy, perfect. About 150 yards in... Here we go... slow dudes. They are so annoying! They try to swim fast, thrashing about, not wanting to be trounced by a couple of girls. See my blue cap dude... Not only am I a girl, I'm a fat chick. Blue means Athena baby! You are getting your ass kicked by a fat chick—booyah. (Of course they will pass me on the run but I won't share that right now... I'm enjoying my moment.)
250 yards, make the turn and head back to the transition. This is where being a swimmer really comes into play. The guys that went out fast are petering out. The chicks with little upper body strength are slowing down. My shoulders are just warming up. I am planting my hand and pulling myself through the water. Like a big blond rotating skiff I cut through the water. Feeling strong, wishing the swim was 500 yards longer. Alas it is over, out of the water and into transition.
I haven't really practiced transition. Ever. It's a new adventure every time I do it. I have gotten better, but I should be awesome by now. I could cut minutes from my time If I only spent the time to train on this... New goal, train transitions, not once, not twice, but get a rhythm. Create a routine get really good and fast at them. I could shave my time by minutes and not even have to run faster!
Wetsuit off, cap goggles off, helmet on, bikes shoes on (I'm pretty sure this is a huge flaw in my transition) clip clompitty clomp all the way to the bike mount. Since I am at the end of transition, this is a long clomp out and will be a long clomp in, on those bike clips. I mount my bike and ride. I haven't been training on my race bike. I've been riding hills and major miles with my beach cruiser. I know what you are thinking... WTF why would you do that!?! but hear me out. I have two kids. One entering kindergarten in the fall, the other entering pre-k. They are young but not small. 50 and 40 lbs respectively. My husband, did I mention he is brilliant, has invented this two-seater child seat that fits on the back of any bike. So I ride with an additional 90 lbs and only 7 gears. EVERYWHERE. My legs are strong. They also look great. I look like a fat woman on a Rockettes legs. Clearly time for a boob lift and tummy tuck but that is another story...
I am not only holding my own on the bike, I am passing people. Lots of people. Now and again a serious biker with Zipps zooms past but that is to be expected. I ride a 2005 Specialized. I am saying, "on your left" more than I am hearing, "on your left" and it feels great. When the day comes that I get my new Cervelo with Zipps, there is no freaking way I'll be passed on the bike leg. You can bet your bippy. What does that mean, and why is it in my vocabulary?
I come into the dismount, clippity clomp, clippitty clomp, I'm bringing my bike back to the FAR END of transition. People in the first few rows have a serious advantage! I have to ask Vicki how they stack the racks cause next year I want to be in row 1!
Bike racked, helmet off, socks soaked—going commando, sneakers on. Run. I run on the beach. This is the torturous part of this race.... hehehe I live at the beach, I run on the sand every day. Cake walk, pass two people, sweet. I get on the road run up a mild incline those two people pass me. Damn. I'm doing well, keeping a steady pace.
"They call me Jane, that's not my name" I am singing that one line over and over. Damn the Ting Tings for making such a catchy tune and singing in the Queens English so I can't figure out any of the other lyrics!
I am running and I feel a hand grab mine it's Mr. B. saying, "Come on, stay with me!"
I'm like "Dude, I run an 11 minute mile on a good day!"
The smart ass next to him says, "Doesn't it make you feel lame when a guy with a 70 written on his calf passes you?!" I refrain from flipping him the bird... I am, as always... a lady.
I pass mile 1. I look at my watch 10:37 WOW I am actually running fast! But I am thirsty. Very thirsty. The air is humid and thick. I am salty and I have an acute case of swimmers ear. (Which incidentally turns into a full blown case of swimmers ear and certain pitches make my ear feel like it is being jammed with an ice-pick... but that has nothing to do with this race.) I am feeling tired and thirsty but good. I see the water station in the distance then Courtney passes me. Mile 1.5 but still WAY better than last year. I stop for a sec and drink some water and HEED and go on my merry way.
I am getting tired. I'm like What is going on? I'm not sprinting, this isn't all that long then I think, OOOH I had coffee and a banana for breakfast. Clearly not enough fuel. I am developing blisters on both heels and my big toe. No socks will do that. I feel myself slowing but I make a conscious choice to push, blood or no blood. I pick my mark in the distance. The run/walker that clearly lifts LOTS of weights.
I say aloud, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
I go. Focused on him. I get close he runs pulls away. He walks, I step it up, he runs. I'm staying with him. He's not pulling away from me. Final mile. You're mine. We are coming down the incline and turn into the finish. I kick it. I pass him and raise my arms to break the tape. AWESOME!!!! He looks dejected in the photo. (If I didn't look like such a red-faced fat-ass I'd post it cause it's priceless—oh well, vanity wins again).
My time is 10 minutes faster than the first time I did this race. Nice, a little faster each year. Transition is still closed. This is new. Apparently I have finished before the last biker has entered transition. Cool. That used to be me.
I saunter over to the timing van for no other reason than I have water and a banana and nothing else to do. I look at my results.... WHA! I got the bronze? Seriously? So freaking cool! Now I am so pumped I'm telling anyone that will listen. "I got the bronze... 10 minutes faster... I am SO COOL." (I know, once you say you are "so cool" you're really an "über dork", but I don't care... I am cool in my mind, and that's all that matters in my reality.)
I wait for the awards ceremony. (I was planning to bolt and head to Brooklyn for my oldest and dearest friends baby shower BUT I PLACED!!! I'll have to be late. She's a kick-ass competitor too, she'll understand—and she did, I love you Stacy xoxo MUAH!)
As I am watching the age grouper get their awards starting with Mr. B. Yes, he got the gold in the 70+ age group AGAIN. I am approached by this very nice woman named Susie, "Shout out to Susie" —that's funny cause if you met me, I'm really not a "shout-out" kind of a girl, any more than I would yell HOLLA! (I'm more of a thank-you-by-snail-mail-on-my-monogrammed-stationary-that-I-designed-myself kind of a person) Anyways, Susie tells me she reads THIS BLOG! I am shocked! I didn't think that anyone outside my immediate friends and family would take the time! She tells me it came up right after the Event Power website on a google search for Mighty North Fork. Holy Crap! I start thinking of all my gross posts and now I'm embarrassed.
She said she commented on the blog. Now, I had NO IDEA that people could comment or interact at all. So I've just read my comments today.
"Hey there blog readers!"
OK, just an FYI... I'm so not replying to comments—not because I don't care, but because I am a middle-aged wife, mother, business owner, community leader and triathlete... and I'm tired plus I kinda don't feel like figuring out how to reply... techno-lazy wins!
Alright back to the awards ceremony. Vicki reads off my name and Josie and Valerie (I just met them at a Smith Point shin-dig) give me the award. I get my picture taken with the gold and the silver medalist—who just came back from hip surgery. Can we say WOW what an awesome awe-inspiring chick!
I get a hello from Steve over the mic. I am a special shade of crimson since everyone turned and looked at me. I say good-bye to Susie her husband, Chris, Pete and meet Vicki's mom—super sweet lady—I say goodbye to Vicki and Steve... with Mr. B, Courtney and Mimi it feels like a big family.
I love this race. It's such a good time. Next year, hopefully all my big talking family members sign up AND actually do it with me!!! Gauntlet thrown.
"They call me Jane, that's not my name" is the lyric on the radio at 4am the morning of the MNF. Crap, now I have that stuck in my head for the day at least the beat is up-tempo. I get out of bed put on my race gear, load up my bike and throw my pack into the truck. Where are my keys? There they are on the kitchen table with my sunglasses—clearly not needed now, pre-dawn and post-storm—and with an envelope. HUH? It's a card from my husband. Today is our legal anniversary. We've been officially married 6 years, he is so sweet.
I kiss him and the kids good-bye and drive out to the North Fork of Long Island, farm & wine country. The drive is easy a quick stop at 7-11 (I need my coffee—the last addiction—I am unwilling to give it up) and I'm off. I drive the back roads cause I like to do that. Give me a winding country road—with the possibility of hitting a deer, over a highway and the possibility of hitting a deer—any day. I get to the race site at 5:30 exactly. Plenty of time to set up. stretch, hydrate, watch the sunrise, socialize and pee.
I am there early, but not early enough to get the end of my rack. Darn. I set up somewhat toward the end, just 4 spots down. I finish laying out my towel with; sneakers, race belt, bike shoes, sunglasses, and helmet. I forgot my bucket to throw my wetsuit, cap and goggles into Damn, first race of the year, there is always something. I apply my body glide to all the important places; armpits, groin etc. No need for blisters today! I spot Mr. B. Just a few spots down. He's 70 and looks 45. There is something to be said about a dedicated triathlete. He tells me this is his last race. He's planning on winning his division and going out in a blaze of glory. I'm sad that he is going into retirement. He has won his division the past two years and I'm looking forward to the hat-trick, even if it is bittersweet.
The sun has risen and the pre-race buzz is in full effect. I hear from My left, "MO!" It's Mimi. She is here to cheer on her daughter Courtney. This is the 4th year we have done this race together. She kicks my ass every year but she passes me on the run a little farther each time. I'd love to get to mile 2 this year. She tells me this may be the last time she does the race. She's a serious marathoner and feels like she is wasting time training for the swim. Mimi has a great idea, she says we should do a relay in Montauk. I'd do the swim, she'd do the run, we just need a biker—I need to woo Jana. [Jana, oh Jana, wanna do a tri-relay? Montauk, October 2010 56 miles of windy, hilly, biking happiness... come on you'll love it!]
It is time to get into the water. Wetsuit and cap on. This is probably the most unattractive outfit I have ever worn—and I have been a bridesmaid like, 12 times. I see Vicki the race director. She is awesome. She's helping me to get a race in my town, hopefully fingers crossed, next August.
Gun sounds, wave one off. I really wish they let the chicks off first. It's so annoying to have to swim through all the slow dudes doing the backstroke. I get in the water and head straight toward the front of the pack. I haven't really practiced open water swimming this season with all the cold and the rain, so I'm just hoping for muscle memory. I'll be at the front of the swim definitely in the top 100 overall. I may seem over confident, but this is one area of the race I actually know something about. These people are runners trying to swim. I am a swimmer trying to run. I tread to the front.
Gun sounds, wave two off. I get a great start right out in front drafting another serious swimmer. Straight, in line with the first buoy, perfect. About 150 yards in... Here we go... slow dudes. They are so annoying! They try to swim fast, thrashing about, not wanting to be trounced by a couple of girls. See my blue cap dude... Not only am I a girl, I'm a fat chick. Blue means Athena baby! You are getting your ass kicked by a fat chick—booyah. (Of course they will pass me on the run but I won't share that right now... I'm enjoying my moment.)
250 yards, make the turn and head back to the transition. This is where being a swimmer really comes into play. The guys that went out fast are petering out. The chicks with little upper body strength are slowing down. My shoulders are just warming up. I am planting my hand and pulling myself through the water. Like a big blond rotating skiff I cut through the water. Feeling strong, wishing the swim was 500 yards longer. Alas it is over, out of the water and into transition.
I haven't really practiced transition. Ever. It's a new adventure every time I do it. I have gotten better, but I should be awesome by now. I could cut minutes from my time If I only spent the time to train on this... New goal, train transitions, not once, not twice, but get a rhythm. Create a routine get really good and fast at them. I could shave my time by minutes and not even have to run faster!
Wetsuit off, cap goggles off, helmet on, bikes shoes on (I'm pretty sure this is a huge flaw in my transition) clip clompitty clomp all the way to the bike mount. Since I am at the end of transition, this is a long clomp out and will be a long clomp in, on those bike clips. I mount my bike and ride. I haven't been training on my race bike. I've been riding hills and major miles with my beach cruiser. I know what you are thinking... WTF why would you do that!?! but hear me out. I have two kids. One entering kindergarten in the fall, the other entering pre-k. They are young but not small. 50 and 40 lbs respectively. My husband, did I mention he is brilliant, has invented this two-seater child seat that fits on the back of any bike. So I ride with an additional 90 lbs and only 7 gears. EVERYWHERE. My legs are strong. They also look great. I look like a fat woman on a Rockettes legs. Clearly time for a boob lift and tummy tuck but that is another story...
I am not only holding my own on the bike, I am passing people. Lots of people. Now and again a serious biker with Zipps zooms past but that is to be expected. I ride a 2005 Specialized. I am saying, "on your left" more than I am hearing, "on your left" and it feels great. When the day comes that I get my new Cervelo with Zipps, there is no freaking way I'll be passed on the bike leg. You can bet your bippy. What does that mean, and why is it in my vocabulary?
I come into the dismount, clippity clomp, clippitty clomp, I'm bringing my bike back to the FAR END of transition. People in the first few rows have a serious advantage! I have to ask Vicki how they stack the racks cause next year I want to be in row 1!
Bike racked, helmet off, socks soaked—going commando, sneakers on. Run. I run on the beach. This is the torturous part of this race.... hehehe I live at the beach, I run on the sand every day. Cake walk, pass two people, sweet. I get on the road run up a mild incline those two people pass me. Damn. I'm doing well, keeping a steady pace.
"They call me Jane, that's not my name" I am singing that one line over and over. Damn the Ting Tings for making such a catchy tune and singing in the Queens English so I can't figure out any of the other lyrics!
I am running and I feel a hand grab mine it's Mr. B. saying, "Come on, stay with me!"
I'm like "Dude, I run an 11 minute mile on a good day!"
The smart ass next to him says, "Doesn't it make you feel lame when a guy with a 70 written on his calf passes you?!" I refrain from flipping him the bird... I am, as always... a lady.
I pass mile 1. I look at my watch 10:37 WOW I am actually running fast! But I am thirsty. Very thirsty. The air is humid and thick. I am salty and I have an acute case of swimmers ear. (Which incidentally turns into a full blown case of swimmers ear and certain pitches make my ear feel like it is being jammed with an ice-pick... but that has nothing to do with this race.) I am feeling tired and thirsty but good. I see the water station in the distance then Courtney passes me. Mile 1.5 but still WAY better than last year. I stop for a sec and drink some water and HEED and go on my merry way.
I am getting tired. I'm like What is going on? I'm not sprinting, this isn't all that long then I think, OOOH I had coffee and a banana for breakfast. Clearly not enough fuel. I am developing blisters on both heels and my big toe. No socks will do that. I feel myself slowing but I make a conscious choice to push, blood or no blood. I pick my mark in the distance. The run/walker that clearly lifts LOTS of weights.
I say aloud, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
I go. Focused on him. I get close he runs pulls away. He walks, I step it up, he runs. I'm staying with him. He's not pulling away from me. Final mile. You're mine. We are coming down the incline and turn into the finish. I kick it. I pass him and raise my arms to break the tape. AWESOME!!!! He looks dejected in the photo. (If I didn't look like such a red-faced fat-ass I'd post it cause it's priceless—oh well, vanity wins again).
My time is 10 minutes faster than the first time I did this race. Nice, a little faster each year. Transition is still closed. This is new. Apparently I have finished before the last biker has entered transition. Cool. That used to be me.
I saunter over to the timing van for no other reason than I have water and a banana and nothing else to do. I look at my results.... WHA! I got the bronze? Seriously? So freaking cool! Now I am so pumped I'm telling anyone that will listen. "I got the bronze... 10 minutes faster... I am SO COOL." (I know, once you say you are "so cool" you're really an "über dork", but I don't care... I am cool in my mind, and that's all that matters in my reality.)
I wait for the awards ceremony. (I was planning to bolt and head to Brooklyn for my oldest and dearest friends baby shower BUT I PLACED!!! I'll have to be late. She's a kick-ass competitor too, she'll understand—and she did, I love you Stacy xoxo MUAH!)
As I am watching the age grouper get their awards starting with Mr. B. Yes, he got the gold in the 70+ age group AGAIN. I am approached by this very nice woman named Susie, "Shout out to Susie" —that's funny cause if you met me, I'm really not a "shout-out" kind of a girl, any more than I would yell HOLLA! (I'm more of a thank-you-by-snail-mail-on-my-monogrammed-stationary-that-I-designed-myself kind of a person) Anyways, Susie tells me she reads THIS BLOG! I am shocked! I didn't think that anyone outside my immediate friends and family would take the time! She tells me it came up right after the Event Power website on a google search for Mighty North Fork. Holy Crap! I start thinking of all my gross posts and now I'm embarrassed.
She said she commented on the blog. Now, I had NO IDEA that people could comment or interact at all. So I've just read my comments today.
"Hey there blog readers!"
OK, just an FYI... I'm so not replying to comments—not because I don't care, but because I am a middle-aged wife, mother, business owner, community leader and triathlete... and I'm tired plus I kinda don't feel like figuring out how to reply... techno-lazy wins!
Alright back to the awards ceremony. Vicki reads off my name and Josie and Valerie (I just met them at a Smith Point shin-dig) give me the award. I get my picture taken with the gold and the silver medalist—who just came back from hip surgery. Can we say WOW what an awesome awe-inspiring chick!
I get a hello from Steve over the mic. I am a special shade of crimson since everyone turned and looked at me. I say good-bye to Susie her husband, Chris, Pete and meet Vicki's mom—super sweet lady—I say goodbye to Vicki and Steve... with Mr. B, Courtney and Mimi it feels like a big family.
I love this race. It's such a good time. Next year, hopefully all my big talking family members sign up AND actually do it with me!!! Gauntlet thrown.
Comments