April Showers bring May....showers, at least in Tunica, MS. Memphis in May, made-over with a new location, new race venue, and new course had every bit the hydra-themed excitement it could muster. A region inundated by floods, so much so that the casino "island" where the race was being held had only recently reopened its doors to patrons after the major flood threats had passed. The race course, swim lake included, was a pristine as it could get. Clean water. Flat, fast, mostly pothole clear roads. In fact, no debris to speak of on the roads except for the minuscule road grit that is inevitable. It promised to be a very fast race.
My start position was #1064 in the time trial start...every 3 seconds a swimmer jumps into the water. Which meant that I was standing around watching the thunder clouds roll in for about 50 minutes. 30 minutes into my wait, the rain started. Followed quickly by the thunder and lightening so close, that they were nearly crashing together. And still the swimmers dove into the water every 3 seconds. I looked around at the hundreds of wetsuit-clad swimmers awaiting their turn, looking non-plussed. Despite the lightening, I experienced a true lemming moment (Splish... I sense a new swimsuit design out of this one. "Faster than lightening" or something like that). Swim start.
In the shallow (at its deepest, probably 6 ft), choppy lake, it took me 500 yds at least to settle in to pace. I found a good set of feet to draft off for the longest straight-away of the race, before they pulled off to the right following some invisible sight line that I could not fathom. I sprinted out of the water into a steamy downpour and ran through the mud of the transition to my bike. My first thought as I tore at my wetsuit - "I need to practice my transitions more". Besides that, it was quick work getting on to the road.
Once on the road, I settled down into a pace that kept me in site of my nearest competitor in the Open Amateur Female division. She had an aero helmet and a disc wheel and when I finally pulled around her, she commented that the weather was "scary". Agreed, but I didn't want to dwell on it. The roads were treacherous enough... by themselves, the pavement was smooth and impeccably maintained for the race. The rain and wet, however, increased the chances of a flat tire, especially on over-inflated time-trial tires. Along the race course, there were at least 1-2 people per mile dealing with a puncture.
The bike course was FLAT and fast, and I generally did the passing, except for a few elite amateur males and, to my dismay a couple of elite amateur females. Disc wheel passed me back just before the finish of the bike, and I did my best to stick on her tail (that would be in a non-drafting tail). Still raining, though back to a light drizzle, I did my best interpretation of a bike-to-run transition.
Here's a shocker, the run was flat and fast. I was thankful for the overcast skies, slightly miffed at the head wind the last two miles, and confused as to which of the women I was passing where actually in my category (we did not have any special designation on our calves for the open wave). As the miles ticked by, my legs eventually found a rhythm. And I passed, one, then two, then two at once of the competitors in front of me. And there was still one up there.... At the turn around, I cursed my ability to math in my head. The lead woman had a whopping two minutes on me with two miles to go! It didn't quite take the wind out of my sails, but my legs were slightly less springy as the wind picked up, the humidity rose, and the specter of the casino towers crawled into view.
The last few miles went by in a blur. Actually, the "blur" was the young woman who pulled a brilliantly classic runner move to pass me in the final 200m to take second place from my clutches. She had started 9 seconds behind me in the time-trial start, so I immediately knew that I was relegated to third place. In that competitive field and considering my still rusty competitiveness, I was excited to be on the podium.
Appendix - During the run, I kept looking at my watch wondering why I was running so slow according to the mile markers, ~ 7:15/mile. Ah-hah! The course was actually 6.7 miles. The "as advertised" olympic distance was measured as 6.23 and ended up being a half-mile longer. I was robbed! Had the race ended when it was supposed to, I would have gotten my 2nd place! Kidding. My mantra, is run the race as it comes. That includes lightening, mismeasured distances, and blurs.
