I didn’t really have any intention of writing a race report on this but I decided to with the hope that it would encourage some of you to sign up for this event next year because this was an incredible, although excruciating, experience.
The Race: Sea to Summit 2.0 triathlon. 1.5 mile swim in the Piscatagua River out of Vaugh Woods State Park in South Berwick, ME. 95 mile bike from South Berwick to Wildcat Mountain ski area, the base of Mt. Washington. Walk (run) a mile to the entrance to Tuckermans/Lion’s Head Trail at the base of Mt. Washington and hike/climb (run) 4.5 miles to the summit.
Why I entered: This was a race that was offered with free entry in the Chinese raffle at the Cylconaut annual meeting at the Holyoke Elks. In what I can now only describe as a moment of complete delusion, I put some tickets in the bag and voila….I won.
Training: Let me preface this by saying I really had no intention of entering a race of this magnitude this year. Between family sports/dance/art/etc. schedules, traveling a lot for work, and contracting fifth’s disease, this training can only be described as absolutely pathetic.
– Swimming: I swam once two weeks before the race about 1.8 miles. Last time before that was August.
– Cycling: I rode 6 times (all in June) since last year, between 35 and 55 miles each time
– Hiking: I haven’t hiked in 10 years. With that being said, I’ve been running all winter, did a marathon in February and was planning on doing another in May until the Fifth’s disease hit me. Overall I was in pretty good shape.
Fifth’s disease – so I started ramping things up in April, mostly running, with every intention of jumping on the bike when the weather permitted. Then at the end of April my neck starts killing me, then my shoulders, elbows, etc. the disease basically works its way through the joints to the point where my wrist couldn’t support a cup of coffee. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve had it but for about a week it is completely debilitating. After about a week though you feel normal but it’s very deceiving. It lingers. The week before it started I had run 16 miles nonstop 8 minute miles. The week after when it appeared that I was recovered, I couldn’t run 3 miles without taking a break. This went on until the end of May so, while I continued to run short distances with breaks, I didn’t ride my bike or swim at all.
At various points I thought that I shouldn’t be doing this and considered trying to give it to someone else, just not going, etc. but it was just too good an opportunity to pass up and in my mind, I always think I can do anything (probably common theme in the Cyclonauts). So….the race was on, despite my wife’s concerns.
I knew going into this that this wasn’t a race that your average Joes/Janes would be signing up and that there would be some unbelievable athletes and I was spot on. I knew coming in last was a distinct possibility but I could not have cared less. As I tell everyone I know, never be disappointed in finishing a race. 65 people signed up but only 41 showed up, which I found odd but have no explanation.
The race:
The race isn’t very organized and you know that going into it. No timing chips, a couple stickers. The swim had buoys. The bike had no aid stations or markers of any kind. There was a suggested route that everyone tried to follow. The hike was marked because it is a national park. It was interesting.
Swim (50:54) – We had to be at the start at 3:45 AM for a 5AM start. I had a lot of trouble falling to sleep and basically slept from 12 – 3. Everyone had their headlamps on getting ready. It was cool but not bad and the weather was looking awesome for the whole day. There was a 200 yard walk through the woods to the river. Beautiful area. They tried to time the tides correctly but they were a little off. Everyone trudged through the mud to the middle of the river and all appeared to be fine. It was probably about 5 ft. deep at the start. Race starts. About a half mile in my hands start hitting the mud on the down stroke. I was staying to the right out of the pack so I look left and everyone in front of me is walking down the middle of the river in knee deep water. We all walk for about a quarter mile before it is finally deep enough to swim again. The way back was fine as the tide had come in further. Apparently some guy ahead of me smashed his foot on a giant rock so they were yelling at everyone directing them away from the rock.
T1: I just walked with my Sherpa to the bike. There were about 6 bikes there when I showed up but I was the second to last person out of T1. I wasn’t being lazy but was really in no hurry having 95 miles to ride.
Bike (7:15): I had mapped out the route and had it printed with some screen shots from MayMyRun so I thought I was all set. It would have helped to drive part of the course the day before but the beach just had to be seen on such a beautiful day. About 4 miles in I could see a couple bikes ahead of me but the streets were winding all over so they were now out of sight and apparently I made a wrong turn and was off of the suggested course, which was legal but not wise, since the recommended course was the shortest route. After stopping at a gas station and talking to some locals I was back on track but probably put in a couple additional miles (not what I was looking for). Everything was fine for about 50 miles, although I never saw another bike. Around mile 50, I was going up a relatively steep hill. I was in my lowest gear barely moving forward when I hear this awful noise. I didn’t know what happened at the time but here is how it played out – spoke broke, spoke knocked chain off, bike goes from .0001 mph to 0, I can’t unclip and I fall into middle of road. Nobody saw me but it would have been absolutely comical. Not knowing anything about this situation, I wasn’t sure what to do so I wrapped the broken spoke around another spoke and jumped back on. A lot of this ride was really beautiful. I must have passed about 5 lakes. There was lots of shade in the heavily wooded areas. There were more cars than I would have liked but outside of one @sshole flipping me off for no apparent reason, it was fine. Life on the bike.
Jump ahead: The bike starts close to sea level and gets to about 600 feet at mile 20. From mile 20 to 80 there are a lot of ups and downs but there is essentially no net gain in elevation. At mile 80 I was extremely tired. It was already 24 miles than I had EVER ridden. From mile 80 to mile 95, the race goes from 600 ft. above sea level to 2040 ft. above sea level. Every corner was a new hill. Mentally, I was losing it and honestly didn’t know if I had it in me. I pedaled and pedaled. My Sherpa would drive by cranking Great White and other 80s bands I grew up with just powering me forward. He’d stop on the side of the rode and swing his shirt around his head like I was on the verge of winning. He was awesome. Within about two miles I literally wanted to get off the bike and throw it into the ravine next to the road…..I kept going. I must have tried to find a gear below 1st 50 times…..please…please make this easier. The last quarter mile to Wildcat Mountain was downhill. I cruised in with my arms raised in victory, not quite understanding what lay ahead.
The hike (or run for the crazies) (3:08): I’ve never been up Mt. Washington. I understood it was challenging but really didn’t know what to expect. In my mind, it was a steep trail…you know…packed dirt, a few rocks, etc., maybe a railing here and there. It starts off pretty tame, not too steep, more dirt than rock, but quickly becomes steeper and rocks start to overtake the dirt. At about 3 miles from the top you begin to wonder how they even allow people to make the climb. I can only imagine that at least 5 people a week break a wrist, leg, etc. At certain points you are looking up wondering how you can even get up to the next section. The hike is absolutely beautiful but you feel like you are hiking straight up. About a mile from the top there is no longer even a trail or trees, it’s just acres and acres of rocks and boulders. The only way you know which way to go is to follow these rock structures that were created by piling up smaller rocks. The only way I can describe it is to imagine if you own a cape style home, the roof is made out of giant rocks, and it was a mile long. My legs were burning. Thank god I bought hiking poles. Two volunteers (PJ and Brian) from the race were with me because I was the last one up. These were super solid guys. I felt like we created a bond. They kept telling me how well I was doing. I have to admit, I felt pretty good and had a pretty decent clip going considering what I had done prior. At certain points I would just turn around and look out. The view was so mesmerizing and inspiring and we got so lucky with the weather (the next day the trails were closed due to 80 mph winds). About a quarter mile from the top my Sherpa was there taking pictures. It was an exciting moment. He climbed the rest of the way with me and I think it was easier for me than him.
The summit (11:14:46): The cutoff to finish was 5PM (12 hours after the start). I finished around 4:15. Walking up to the summit I was flooded with emotion. I wasn’t bawling but I filled up pretty good and a couple tears slid down my face. The race volunteer at the top and the two volunteer guys that were with me treated me like I had just won. They looked at me with such admiration and pride. I shook their hands like we had just conquered the world. It was amazing, pure elation. I’ll never forget it.
Conclusion: Out of the 41 that started, 39 finished. I was number 39. The athletes at this event were simply amazing. The winner beat me by over 4 hours and 15 minutes, a feat that I still can’t quite comprehend. To those athletes, I admire your desire and athletic prowess and salute you. And for those like myself, that fight, scrap and struggle to the end, you are just as amazing, and I salute you. And finally, for those about to rock……..I SALUTE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!