I quickly made my way to my bike, passing a handful of people in transition (I am a firm believer that transition seconds are freebies. Races are truly won and lost in transition). I opted to run my bike out of transition, up a carpeted zig-zag hill and out on to the road where we were allowed to mount and begin riding with my bike shoes on my feet rather than strapping them to the pedals and running barefoot to the mounting line. Before my start, I had watched a handful of pros attempt the bike run up that zig zag hill and because of the steepness of the grade, ended up kicking off a bike shoe that was attached to their pedal, causing them to have to stop and run after it. It was not worth the risk to me, plus, at that distance event, I wanted to wear socks for the bike and run.
As I hopped on my bike and headed up the first half mile incline out of the resort, something was not sounding right on my bike. It was like a metal rubbing sound was coming from either my crank or large chain ring. I switching into the small chain to climb the hill, then stayed in it for the next mile or so, down a slight gradient, then around a loop and back up the road on the other side of the street. A guy passed me whose bike was making a similar sound and I almost asked him the cause, but noticed on his race number a foreign flag so decided not to chat, thinking he might not understand my English (even in my frustration, I couldn't help but think how cool it was that each of us competing had a flag with our home country affixed to our race number!) After we crested the hill and began our long, steep decent toward Lake Mead National Park, I switched into the large chain ring in the front when BAM! my chain jumped. I glanced down as I began coasting downhill and saw my chain dangling. Could I reach down and slip it back on without dismounting? I continued gliding down the hill at a creeping pace as men passed like I was standing still. Finally, just before the guard gates into the park, I pulled off the side of the road, hoping to whip the chain back on and be on my way. Of course, I would stop across the street from a water stop filled with volunteers waiting for the first pro riders to come along on their climb back out of the park. At least I gave them entertainment for 5 or so minutes.
I could not tell exactly how long I was there, but quite a few minutes passed. The chain had become wedged between the large and small chain rings. Instinctively, I reached for a phone in my back pocket to call Dave for help. Clearly, the heat must have already been getting to me! Duh, Deanna, you are in a race - you don't have a phone silly! I also didn't have a second set of hands to hold up the bike while I worked on it. It kept tipping to one side or the other while I fought with the chain. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the chain loosened free and I slipped it back on the teeth of the small chain ring and remounted. What I sight I must have been for the water station volunteers. I am sure I had grease smeared all over my face from wiping the sweat away, my hands were covered and I was hot with frustration. Not only did I lose time, but lost all momentum on the best downhill of the race (a hill that I would revisit going the opposite direction in another hour or so). I had started in the small chain ring, and sure enough, within minutes, I tried to switch back into the large chain ring when the same thing occurred as before. Not only that, within the first 10 miles of the 56 mile bike ride out in "The Furnace", it happened 4 times.
After the 4th occurance, I looked up and for the first time, observed my surroundings - how blue the sky was, how brilliant orange the rocks were and what fascinating unique shapes the rock formations made as they rose out of the desert. I glanced down and read the reminder wrist band I was wearing. It says, "I am grateful" on one side and "Thank you God" on the other. Throughout this race, it remained on the "I am grateful" side for me to read. At that moment, I said a simple prayer: "God, thank you so much for bringing me to this place, for letting me take in the scenery around me, for giving me this opportunity. I am truly grateful, but God, I think you brought me here for a bigger purpose than to sit on the side of the road and watch the race pass before me. I can not ride with my chain falling off every other mile. God, please, let me do your work. Let me give glory and honor to you through my talents. God, show me your plan for me and work with me today so that I can carry out what you have in store for me."
From that moment on, I don't know if it was that I came to my senses or if God really did give me insight, but I know that in order to finish the next 46 miles, I would have to do it with only using the large chain ring, even with the brutal desert hills of this course. I was calm. Actually, I was more than calm. I was inspired. I was happy. I road with a light heart, being passed on the uphills by guys and after awhile, some of the blazing fast girls in the 20-24 age group that must have started after them. Funny, for the first time in my racing career, I was okay with it. Usually, being passed lights a fire in me and makes me kick into another gear to pass them back and distance myself from them so it won't come back to bite me.
On the return trip from the out and back in The Furnace, a song I had heard for the first time just the week before, came into my head, "Well Done" by Moriah Peters. It reminded me that at the end of the day, or at the end of my days, my whole existance and meaning in life is to hear the words "well done" my my father in heaven. I began smiling while riding with my light, happy heart. I also began passing people who had passed me along the way, mainly the young girls and guys from the groups who started after me, but soon I noticed that I was also passing other women in my age group.
Dave drove by me on my way back into Henderson, again with that same concerned look on his face. I smiled and waved, shouting that I had 4 technicals on the bike. I think I stunned him by telling him this, yet appearing happy - needless to say, in all the years we have raced together, he knows that I am normally not happy if outside obstacles hinder my race and am usually quite vocal about it (bless his heart and ears!). With 6 miles to go, my neck and back were letting me know that they were ready to get off the bike. I had been so paranoid with overheating and dehydrating, I didn't follow any set guidelines, but just kept sipping on my water, refilling at the water stations, drinking my electrolyte drink, taking salt tablets and gu whenever the thought crossed my mind. It was an odd sensation to wipe salt off my arms and face rather than sweat, but a good reminder to keep my electrolytes in check. Fortunately, my nutrition (as they call it, the 4th dicipline in triathlon) paid off - really for the first time ever. I guess even an old dog can learn new tricks!
I slid my feet out of my shoes as I approached transition, hopped of the bike, handed it off to a volunteer (this is the 1st race where I didn't have to re-rack my own bike), grabbed my transition bag, flew through the transition tent, shoes on, gu shoved up the elastic bands of my shorts (I saw a couple of pros do this and decided to copy), and out the exit to start the run feeling fresh and happy.
As I hopped on my bike and headed up the first half mile incline out of the resort, something was not sounding right on my bike. It was like a metal rubbing sound was coming from either my crank or large chain ring. I switching into the small chain to climb the hill, then stayed in it for the next mile or so, down a slight gradient, then around a loop and back up the road on the other side of the street. A guy passed me whose bike was making a similar sound and I almost asked him the cause, but noticed on his race number a foreign flag so decided not to chat, thinking he might not understand my English (even in my frustration, I couldn't help but think how cool it was that each of us competing had a flag with our home country affixed to our race number!) After we crested the hill and began our long, steep decent toward Lake Mead National Park, I switched into the large chain ring in the front when BAM! my chain jumped. I glanced down as I began coasting downhill and saw my chain dangling. Could I reach down and slip it back on without dismounting? I continued gliding down the hill at a creeping pace as men passed like I was standing still. Finally, just before the guard gates into the park, I pulled off the side of the road, hoping to whip the chain back on and be on my way. Of course, I would stop across the street from a water stop filled with volunteers waiting for the first pro riders to come along on their climb back out of the park. At least I gave them entertainment for 5 or so minutes.
I could not tell exactly how long I was there, but quite a few minutes passed. The chain had become wedged between the large and small chain rings. Instinctively, I reached for a phone in my back pocket to call Dave for help. Clearly, the heat must have already been getting to me! Duh, Deanna, you are in a race - you don't have a phone silly! I also didn't have a second set of hands to hold up the bike while I worked on it. It kept tipping to one side or the other while I fought with the chain. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the chain loosened free and I slipped it back on the teeth of the small chain ring and remounted. What I sight I must have been for the water station volunteers. I am sure I had grease smeared all over my face from wiping the sweat away, my hands were covered and I was hot with frustration. Not only did I lose time, but lost all momentum on the best downhill of the race (a hill that I would revisit going the opposite direction in another hour or so). I had started in the small chain ring, and sure enough, within minutes, I tried to switch back into the large chain ring when the same thing occurred as before. Not only that, within the first 10 miles of the 56 mile bike ride out in "The Furnace", it happened 4 times.
After the 4th occurance, I looked up and for the first time, observed my surroundings - how blue the sky was, how brilliant orange the rocks were and what fascinating unique shapes the rock formations made as they rose out of the desert. I glanced down and read the reminder wrist band I was wearing. It says, "I am grateful" on one side and "Thank you God" on the other. Throughout this race, it remained on the "I am grateful" side for me to read. At that moment, I said a simple prayer: "God, thank you so much for bringing me to this place, for letting me take in the scenery around me, for giving me this opportunity. I am truly grateful, but God, I think you brought me here for a bigger purpose than to sit on the side of the road and watch the race pass before me. I can not ride with my chain falling off every other mile. God, please, let me do your work. Let me give glory and honor to you through my talents. God, show me your plan for me and work with me today so that I can carry out what you have in store for me."
From that moment on, I don't know if it was that I came to my senses or if God really did give me insight, but I know that in order to finish the next 46 miles, I would have to do it with only using the large chain ring, even with the brutal desert hills of this course. I was calm. Actually, I was more than calm. I was inspired. I was happy. I road with a light heart, being passed on the uphills by guys and after awhile, some of the blazing fast girls in the 20-24 age group that must have started after them. Funny, for the first time in my racing career, I was okay with it. Usually, being passed lights a fire in me and makes me kick into another gear to pass them back and distance myself from them so it won't come back to bite me.
On the return trip from the out and back in The Furnace, a song I had heard for the first time just the week before, came into my head, "Well Done" by Moriah Peters. It reminded me that at the end of the day, or at the end of my days, my whole existance and meaning in life is to hear the words "well done" my my father in heaven. I began smiling while riding with my light, happy heart. I also began passing people who had passed me along the way, mainly the young girls and guys from the groups who started after me, but soon I noticed that I was also passing other women in my age group.
Dave drove by me on my way back into Henderson, again with that same concerned look on his face. I smiled and waved, shouting that I had 4 technicals on the bike. I think I stunned him by telling him this, yet appearing happy - needless to say, in all the years we have raced together, he knows that I am normally not happy if outside obstacles hinder my race and am usually quite vocal about it (bless his heart and ears!). With 6 miles to go, my neck and back were letting me know that they were ready to get off the bike. I had been so paranoid with overheating and dehydrating, I didn't follow any set guidelines, but just kept sipping on my water, refilling at the water stations, drinking my electrolyte drink, taking salt tablets and gu whenever the thought crossed my mind. It was an odd sensation to wipe salt off my arms and face rather than sweat, but a good reminder to keep my electrolytes in check. Fortunately, my nutrition (as they call it, the 4th dicipline in triathlon) paid off - really for the first time ever. I guess even an old dog can learn new tricks!
I slid my feet out of my shoes as I approached transition, hopped of the bike, handed it off to a volunteer (this is the 1st race where I didn't have to re-rack my own bike), grabbed my transition bag, flew through the transition tent, shoes on, gu shoved up the elastic bands of my shorts (I saw a couple of pros do this and decided to copy), and out the exit to start the run feeling fresh and happy.
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