“The
two important things I did learn were that you are as powerful and strong as
you allow yourself to be, and that the most difficult part of any endeavour is
taking the first step, making the first decision.” –Robyn Davidson
Following is my race report
from the Long Course Duathlon World Championships at Powerman Zofingen in
Zofingen, Switzerland earlier this month where I placed 15th woman
overall and 2nd in my age group.
The race report is long but so was the race: 8 hours 22 minutes. For those wanting a quick recap: Powerman
Zofingen consists of 40K (24 miles) of running interrupted by a 150K (93-mile) bike
ride with 1600 meters (5249 feet) of climbing and a maximum grade of 16%. This
would be my longest and most difficult race to date and I felt out-trained, out-geared
and out of my league. If I had been
given the chance to withdraw from the race before it started, I probably would
have. I’m glad I did not- finishing
among the top elite athletes, I finally learned that we only accomplish the
unimaginable when we are willing to step outside of our comfort zone. --Coach Lisa
Just
ten days ago I found myself as part of Team USA at the start line for the Long
Course Duathlon World Championships at Powerman Zofingen in Zofingen,
Switzerland. I ended up there almost by accident, having qualified at the
Blackwater Duathlon in Cambridge, Maryland, a 10K run/70K bike/10K run race on
a pancake flat course I was familiar with after doing several other races there
in the past. When I qualified for a spot on Team USA at Blackwater I didn't
even know that what I "earned" was a chance to race a 10K run/150K
bike/30K run duathlon on what has been described as one of the toughest
duathlon courses in the world (http://www.powerman.ch/en/history-powerman)
, as evidenced by the bike course elevation profile- THREE loops of the following:
I
spent countless hours in the months leading up to the race Googling past race
reports and trolling the testosterone heavy Slow Twitch discussion forums for
any information I could get about the race. The more I read the more I wondered
what I had gotten myself into. Not only had I never ridden a course as long or
difficult as that at Powerman Zofingen, I had never done a race lasting more
than about 5 hours. Powerman Zofingen would take me at least 8 hours and as
many as 10 or 11 hours. In our
excitement to travel to Switzerland and participate again as a member of Team
USA (I was on Team USA for the short course duathlon championships in
Edinburgh, Scotland in 2010) I hadn't really stopped to think about the fact
that it would mean I would have to train for- and race- this apparently epic
duathlon. For the first time in my
racing history, I doubted my ability to even finish this race. I trained to the
best of my ability but within the constraints of my life as a full-time mom
with limited time and resources. I was
completely intimidated by the course and apparent experience of the other
athletes I knew who were doing, or had done, this race. I kept my plans to do the race very quiet
because I wanted to spare myself the embarrassment if I tried, but failed, to finish.
On
top of the concerns about training and racing, I was also worried about leaving
our three young kids the first week of school even though I knew that they
would be in great hands and have a very special time with their Miri and Opa,
who are more than capable of taking over parenting duties (and spoiling the
kids) while we were away. The race fell after a whirlwind of back to back
end of summer travel, leaving just two days after returning from vacation to
pack my bike, our bags and get the kids started with school before leaving for
Switzerland. Luckily, a hectic schedule
meant little time for worrying about the race.
Once
we boarded the flight to Switzerland, I had plenty of time for the worries and
self-doubt to creep in. I worried about everything and anything: Were the kids
OK? Would my bike make it safely? What
if it was cold and rainy on race day (steep descents in rain scare me and I
have almost no experience riding in the rain)? What if I experienced a flat or
other mechanical problem on the bike (I am incredibly technically incompetent
when it comes to the bike)? What if I
couldn't make it up the 15% grade climb and fell off my bike trying? What if I
couldn't finish the race? Or worse, what
if I got hurt on the bike? In the
overnight hours on the flight to Switzerland, while others slept I cried
silently just praying I could make it home safely to our kids and families.
We
arrived in Zurich on Wednesday to sun and 80 degrees (and my bike, safely off
the plane) but a weather forecast of cold rain for the days following. While we toured Zurich, I obsessed over the
weather. I quickly learned how to find the forecast for the weather (ironically,
"wetter" in German) in the papers since we had limited access to the
internet. I ducked into the Apple store regularly to search Accuweather,
Intellicast, Weather Channel, Yahoo Weather and any other source of weather
information I could get my hands on. My biggest nightmare was rain. I imagined myself skidding off the
mountainside on the steep switchback descents. On Wednesday and Thursday the
forecast was for rain on Friday and Saturday but ending Sunday with sun and a
high of 68. I could live with that but the rain leading up to Sunday worried
me- what if that rain stuck around just a little longer into Sunday? Sure enough, when I checked the forecast on a
rainy, cold Thursday afternoon it had changed to rain through the race on
Sunday.
I
tried to enjoy Switzerland through my worry and the rain. We walked around
Zurich, discovering the chocolatier Sprungli and its specialty, Luxemburgli. We
took the (timely, clean) train to Bern and walked with umbrellas to see the
city's rose garden and bear park (complete with cold, wet bears). We
experienced sticker shock at the prices (easily 4 times the prices in the US)
but admired the health-conscious lifestyle of the Swiss. The country has strict
requirements for its food- there is an emphasis on local sourcing and all food
must comply with the Swiss Food Law which restricts additives, particularly
genetically modified organisms (GMO). Most commercial US food cannot be sold in
Switzerland because of the additives. Even McDonalds food is considered healthy
by US standards because of the requirements (making a Big Mac almost worth the
$12 price tag). The number of people- adults and kids- riding bikes was
impressive, encouraged in no small part by bike lanes and laws requiring
motorists to yield to cyclists and pedestrians.
Friday
we took the train to Zofingen. Arriving to cold rain and a forecast still
showing rain through the weekend, we dropped off my bike to the local bike shop
to be reassembled and met up with my teammate Shannon and her husband who were
kind enough to offer us a driving tour of the bike course in their rental car.
As we drove the course in the rain I tried to joke away my worries and gather
as much confidence as possible from Shannon and her husband, both experienced
and accomplished cyclists, but ascending each of the three major climbs,
including the infamous Bodenberg (with a maximum grade of 15%) and coming down
the steep, winding descents, my stomach sunk. If it looked this bad by car, how
would it look for three laps on bike?
We
enjoyed dinner with friends and old neighbors who now live in Switzerland on
Friday night but after we got back to the hotel room the panic started to set
in full force. I spent a sleepless night worrying about the rain, the course,
the kids back at home, and anything else I could think to worry about. At that
point I wasn't even concerned with finishing; I was only concerned about making
it back home in one piece.
Saturday
I ventured out in a cold rain on parts of each run course, which consisted of a
hilly route through the forest on gravel-packed trails, more akin to cross country
than the road racing I am so used to. Many times I heard that the race didn't
truly start until the last run, and I figured if I made it to that run (a big “if”
in my head) I would have it made with my strength and background as a runner.
The parts of the course I saw on Saturday made me realize the run was no joke,
but I at least had the confidence of being on my own two feet instead of at the
mercy of my bike.
After
a pre-race pasta party and Opening Ceremonies on Saturday night, I tried to get
some sleep before the race. The forecast was almost impossible to decipher- 40%
chance of rain on Sunday with little grey cloud/rain icons all day. As I fell
asleep to the sound of continuing rain outside our window, I had crazy
nightmares and a night of on again/off again sleep until I finally got up at
4:45. I checked the weather on my phone and saw 47 degrees and 40% chance of
rain. Listening outside, I was sure I heard rain but when I finally got outside
I realized it was just remaining water from the night before coursing through
the city's drainage system and the road were, miraculously, almost dry and the
temperatures felt closer to 50s than high 40s.
We
racked our bikes as daylight broke and for the first time since we arrived had
dry, albeit overcast, skies. The forecast showed the highest chance of rain for
12-1 pm. I just prayed the rain would
hold off until after my first lap on the bike course, so I could at least see
what the descents were like before having to attempt them in the rain. Lining
up at the start, it actually felt warm but I kept on my arm warmers and gloves
(a last minute expo purchase) knowing that the descents on the bike would
likely be cold and wanting to err on the side of being too warm instead of too
cold.
Right
before the start gun went off I thought about the long day I had ahead and how
much work I would have to do before it was over and I could just get home to
the kids. I didn't know if I would be
going home a Poweman Zofingen finisher, but if I could just make it through the
race safely I knew I could go home.
Mentally I broke the race up into pieces- the first 5K run lap, second
5K run lap, three 50K bike laps, then two 15K run laps. One lap at a time, and
I took comfort in the fact that I would run first before I had to tackle the
bike.
The
first run started up a steep 2K (1.2 mile) hill up into the forest and onto a
trail that continued up for another .5K before heading back down to the start
area, where we would do it all over again before heading into transition and
onto the bike course. I reminded myself over and over not to get carried away
on the first run. Even if I ran a minute per mile slower than my normal race
pace I would lose just 6 minutes in an 8+ hour race. I had to remember I had
over 90 miles of biking and another 18 miles of running ahead of me. I started up the first hill steady but
strong, and found myself half way through the first 10K towards the front of
the pack, ahead of even most of the elite (pro) athletes. As Dan cautioned me
to watch my speed after the first lap, I double checked my effort but felt
comfortable and kept a steady pace through the second lap and into
transition. Total time: 38:51.
I
had a bit of a sinking feeling in my stomach as I finished the run, realizing I
was leaving my comfort zone and setting off on the bike for three loops of the
50K course. I didn’t give myself time to
dwell on it- I got on the bike as fast as possible and focused on the
relatively flat first portion of the course, reminding myself to take it easy and
use the first lap as a reconnaissance lap to get the lay of the land and save
my energy for the climbs. I ate some of
my nutrition and drank water as I prepared myself to start getting passed by
other racers. To my surprised, I was
only passed by a few elite women on the first part of the course. I kept waiting to get passed by more age
groupers (non-elites) but found myself out on the course relatively alone
during the first lap. I wasn’t too
surprised by how spread out the course was on the bike, as the men had a start
time one hour later than the women so the rest of the field hadn’t even started
before the women were out on the bike course.
I knew, though, that I should at least see my teammate and friend
Shannon on the bike. An impressive
cyclist, she would certainly make up the time I gained on the run to pass me on
the bike.
The
first climb was long but nothing too terrible and seemed to be over relatively
quickly, thanks in part to the spectators at key portions along the ascent
cheering on the riders with shouts of “hopp hopp!” A quick steep descent on the other side
allowed for some welcome recovery, but I knew the Bodenberg was coming up
quickly. My approach to the Bodenberg,
and the other two major climbs on the bike course, was to take it slow and
steady. I kept repeating to myself “just
get it done”- it didn’t have to be pretty or fast. The first part of the Bodenberg climb has a
short break in the middle before heading up again at the steepest grade. Again, enthusiastic spectators with words of
encouragement greeted us at the critical points, giving me the motivation to
keep pushing even when my legs felt like they wanted to give out. Just before we reached the steepest part of
the climb, I heard an approaching racer encourage me, in a German accent, to
“ride fast, lady!” I turned around to
thank her for the words of encouragement when I realized it was my jokester of
a friend and teammate, and cyclist extraordinaire Shannon. Seeing her buoyed my energy as she cheered me
to follow her up the steepest part of the climb. For weeks before the race, I wondered what
exactly 15% grade looks and feels like to ascend. The first lap of the course I had a chance to
experience 15% grade on the Bodenberg climb- brutal! I was glad to have Shannon
to follow on that first attempt as I attempted to emulate her strong
riding. As we ascended, I remembered
what I had heard about the bike course- “the first lap is hard, the second lap
is harder, and the third lap is balls.”
I imagined that the third time up the Bodenberg I’d be in full agreement
with that sentiment.
Once
at the top of the Bodenberg, we came upon the first feed station on the course
(there were two, one at 25K and one as we went back through town at the 50K
mark) which was well-stocked and staffed by great volunteers who handed us “vasser”
(water) and “banane” (banana) as we rode by.
I had nutrition with me on the bike (Honey Stinger waffles) so passed on
the food the first lap but did take an extra water bottle after tossing my own
in the designated discard area immediately before the feed station. As the saying goes, what goes up must come
down and the Bodenberg was no exception.
The descents were long, steep and winding along switch-backs and a sharp
90 degree right hand turn at the bottom; one wrong turn and I’d end up tumbling
down the steep mountainside. Shannon,
much braver than I, descended with abandon and I lost sight of her as I took it
a bit more conservatively, imagining how much trickier- and dangerous- it would
have been in the rain. Many racing told
me they hit 50-55 mph on the descents.
Even though I tried not to hit the brakes on the descents, my maximum speed
was about 40 mph. Again I said a little
prayer that any rain would hold off until after the bike, or at least after my
third and final descent down the Bodenberg.
After
the descent we enjoyed some fast sections (and recovery) before one last
gradual, but long, climb before reaching town again and starting the second,
and eventually third, laps. We passed
the transition area each time, which included a “coaching zone” where coaches
(or friends/family) could hand off extra nutrition, drink, or give other
assistance. I passed Dan’s offer of extra
Honey Stinger waffles on the first pass but grabbed the bag from him on the
second pass before the third and final bike lap.
On
each of the bike laps I managed to take in the beautiful Swiss countryside,
including plenty of spectators, both human and bovine. I often heard cow bells and looked around for
cheering spectators (in the US spectators often use cowbells to cheer on
racers) only to find that it wasn’t spectators but actual cow bells- on cows! I was especially boosted by the kids along
the route who put out their hands for high fives (and squealed with joy when
they slapped hands with one of the cyclists) and who, upon seeing USA on my
jersey, seemed to enjoy trying out their English with shouts of “awesome!” and
“good going!”
Three
laps and 150K later (and the rains still holding off despite some passing dark
clouds) I was overjoyed. Total time: 5:09:12. As this picture illustrates, I was literally
shouting for joy at being safely off the bike:
Little
did I know what was to come. I had been
warned many times that the race didn’t start until the second 30K run, but I
was confident in my running abilities and sure that if I could make it safely
through the bike, I’d have a competitive advantage on the run. The day before the race I previewed just a
small part of the 15K (two loop) course, which began with two miles of uphill
climbing into the woods. I didn’t
venture much into the woods along the crushed gravel path, but Dan did and
reported back that it was brutally hard with steep ascents and descents. I discovered his description was spot-on when
I entered the woods on the first loop of the second run. There was no flat along the course, and the
crushed gravel only made it harder as I felt like I was expending a lot of
energy just keeping my balance. The course
did flatten out, and go back onto paved path, at the turnaround point at 7.5K,
but then I knew I was only headed back to climb the descents I had just
traveled.
The
cruelest part of the second run course was that we ran out and back on the
first 15K loop, entered the arena and ran straight to the finish line- only to
turn around a cone about 3 feet from the finish line and do the course all over
again after receiving a wrist band that indicated you had already finished one
lap. Knowing that I was headed back UP
two miles only to face the steep ascents and descents of the run course, on
legs already exhausted from 7+ hours of hard running and cycling, I conceded to
the fact that I would likely have to walk part of the second loop. I have never walked in a race- in fact, I can
only remember having to walk in a training run once over more than 15
years. Regardless, I had seen the
majority of racers walking parts of the course and allowed myself permission to
walk if necessary.
On
the initial ascent of the second loop I found myself running at a speed close
to walking speed. I knew my form was
starting to deteriorate and that I was wasting energy trying to “run” up the
hill so I gave in and power walked up the hill.
At this point, one of the Elite members of Team USA (elites are similar
to professional athletes; the rest of us are referred to as “age groupers”)
came up behind me- remember men started one hour after the women so essentially
he was one hour ahead of me but also on his second lap of the run course- and
encouraged me to run with him for a bit.
It worked for a few hundred feet but I then slowed to a walk again,
apologizing for my inability to follow him up the hill. “It’s OK, we’re all in the same boat,” he
said, making me feel a little less guilty about walking. This is how I felt about that second run:
I
made myself run for short intervals before taking short walk breaks for the
remainder of the 2-mile hill. After that
I ran on flats and downhill sections and power walked the uphill sections. Part way through the second loop I could feel
myself hitting “the wall,” another unfamiliar sensation. I immediately started getting any nutrition I
could from the well-stocked nutrition stations every 2K, even trying the bars
they offered along the course and Coca Cola.
Typically I won’t try anything new during a race, but I was desperate
for a boost and figured that any gastrointestinal distress would be better than
the sharp drop in energy I was starting to feel. Luckily the bars and coke agreed with me and
within about 15 minutes I felt a boost in energy. Somehow I made it back through all of the ups
and downs of the gravel-packed trail and back onto the paved path for the final
descent into the arena. Looping through
the arena for what I knew would be the final time, I was overcome with emotion
as I realized that I was actually going to finish this epic race. Total time for second run: 2:30:28. Eight hours and 22 minutes after I started, I
crossed the finish line.
Post
race I found my teammate Shannon and congratulated her for her 1st place age
group finish. When the results were
posted, we were both shocked and excited to find out that we were the first two
non-elite finishers. It took a while for
me to realize what that meant- not only had I finished the race, but I had
finished strong and placed 15th overall, 2nd in my age
group. In the world.
With
an early Monday flight back to the US, we had just enough time to attend the
awards ceremony, say goodbye to our new friends, disassemble and pack my bike
(this time without the assistance of the bike shop) and get a few hours of
sleep before heading back to the train station and airport. By Monday dinner time we were back home- kids
happy and safe, spoiled by a week with their doting grandparents and full of
stories from the first week of school and all of their adventures.
In
the week and a half I’ve been back, I have had time to reflect on this whole
adventure. I realized so many of my
fears were unfounded. As someone who was
not athletic growing up, I think I still have trouble seeing myself as a “real”
athlete. I am often intimidated by the
fancy bikes and experience of other multisport athletes. I’m a mom first- I train mostly by myself around
my kids’ busy schedules and can’t afford the time or money for a lot of the
fancy equipment and coaching that competitive athletes often enjoy.
I
went to Switzerland hoping to just finish a race that was longer in distance,
duration and harder than any other race I had ever attempted. I left having made new friends, experienced a
new and beautiful country and learning the important lesson that we never know
what we are capable of until we try.
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