It has now been nearly 2 weeks since Wildflower, and I'm still not fully recovered, I don't think. I swam this morning, and felt really good in the water (read that last phrase again, and realize how bizarre that is coming from me), but my run yesterday felt very sluggish. Both of those were the first time I had done either activity since the race. I'm scheduled to have a bike fit next weekend at Bikefit.com. So, some broad assumptions can be made from this paragraph:
1. I think a combination of a very hard race, and not being in great shape is why I am taking so long to recover
2. Something is not quite right with my bike position
Wildflower is a definite race to do for any triathlete. I find it hard to believe that you can pack 7500 triathletes in a weekend of races and still make it seem like a small race, but Wildflower manages to do that. Maybe it's the fact that it is not really corporate (read: WTC). Or maybe it has to do with the mentality that pervades Wildflower. But having unofficial aid stations along the route that are offering hot dogs and beer or a beer bong, and having them remain rather than have some corporate no-fun rules enforcer telling them that they need to leave? Yup, I want to go back to Wildflower, but maybe when I'm better trained.
The Good: my swim was good. While I do think the course was short, I'll take the fact that I didn't get beat up and had fairly clean water. Taking Dave's friend's advice about riding the flume was key. I basically felt like I body-surfed out to the first buoy. 33:19 is by no means fast, but I'll take it. I like the fact that my swim exit picture has me coming out of the water in front of a few people who were in the previous wave. When I passed people who started 10 minutes in front of me, I realized that, no matter how bad I think I swim, there are others that are hurting worse than me.
The Bad: I rode the bike course very conservatively. My time was slower than I expected, but I was worried about burning too many matches while climbing. And I now descend like an old lady. I guess a bad crash one year ago can make anyone a bit skittish; I'm hoping that I'll get more confidence as long as I stay upright. Of course, seeing a guy lying on the road at the bottom of the steepest downhill on the course with his bike in a ditch and pieces/parts littering the road can also make one a bit nervous. Flashback to IM California 2001 when I passed the first fatality in an IM on the road. It does make you realize your own mortality.
Even though I went easy, I still started to feel my quads tighen up at mile 36. Hence, the bike fit plans.
The Ugly: Getting off the bike and having both quads and my left hamstring cramp was no fun. And I couldn't run uphill because I would cramp whenever I tried. So, I walked uphill. And there's a lot of uphill. The back half (miles 3-6) is a killer with its hills.
The Funny: I can never do a race without having something comical happen. Almost crashing into the fencing as I pass the grandstand just out of transition because I'm looking down at my watch qualifies. I abraded my right shoulder on the netting, locked up both brakes, hit a sandbag with front wheel, coming to an abrupt stop with my rear wheel leaving the ground. Yup, that was me. Of course, I had to do that in front of the grandstand where everyone was watching.
Final thoughts: There was carnage on Beach Hill, the first steep uphill which occurs within the first 2 miles. I saw broken derailleur hangers and broken chains. I'm not sure how you this is possible if you are taking care of your equipment, but it was kind of crazy to see at least a half dozen people whose race was over within the first 2 miles due to equipment failure.
And my sunburn is nearly gone now.
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