Now in its 18th year, Scott Tinley’s Adventures has morphed into a 3-day weekend festival with an event to suit every age and ability, including On-Road Long, Olympic and Sprint Triathlons, a Youth Triathlon, and an Off-Road Sprint Triathlon. All races will feature open-water lake swimming, biking through the beautiful hills and fields of Arroyo Grande, and trail running in the nearby hills. The off-road triathlon is still around, making it the longest running event of its kind in the industry." -www.tricalifornia.com
Scott Tinley's Long Course Triathlon was by far the best triathlon I have ever competed in. Due to the small amount of people that sign up for the event, everyone is super laid-back and friendly. Before the race, all the athletes lining up their bikes share chitchat and stories of past experiences. Even though most triathletes are Type A, the atmosphere was very mellow.
For me, the event started the evening before. After work, I took a quick jog home, grabbed my foam roller, jammed some seaweed in my mouth and drove over to the gas station. Shoot! I forgot my USAT card! After leaving the house a second time, I made my way up to Torrey's apartment in SLO. It was still pretty early when I rolled out my sleeping bag and pulled out my iPhone. Okay... down to business... what pace do I need to hold in each event in order to finish the race in under 6 hours? After making my plan, I signed onto Facebook to see if Josh was online. I was nervous and needed to talk to someone who knew what I was about to go through. Someone who would set me straight and remind me that it was just an event, but still understood the importance of it. As soon as he put me back in my place, I passed out hard and didn't wake up until an hour after my alarm had originally gone off (sorry Torrey!!).
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| Everything I would need for the race... |
I traveled the 45-minutes south to Lopez Lake. At the registration tent, I told them my name and event then walked back to Sweet Baby Sam. The bag was light. All that was inside of it was my T-shirt, my timing chip and my race bib. That's strange... usually they include a swim cap. I asked the woman next to me if she had received a swim cap. She had, so I decided to set up, get marked and go back to get my cap. When I went back to the registration tent, there were lines at each station. I went to the side and asked a tattooed man behind the booth if I could get my cap. When I told him my name and number, I said I should get a white cap. He looked at me and replied, "I'm pretty sure you get a pink cap. Here you go." ...Okay. He's in charge, I trust him...
I went back to my bike and noticed all of the women were wearing normal running shoes, not trail shoes; fortunately, my old Brooks PureCadence were in the car. They have about 100 miles too many on them right now, but I decided to use those instead of my Brooks Cascadias. After switching them out, the racers around me were putting on wetsuits. Someone said the water was in the low 60's. Although I hadn't planned to wear a wetsuit, I brought it just in case. Honestly, I didn't think it would even fit me anymore. Not wanting to embarass myself in case it didn't, I walked a quarter of a mile down to the next restroom and put it on there. One leg stuh-retched it's way through then the other and finally I yanked the zipper up and moved around to get all the right parts in the right places. Thank goodness! It was skin tight, but I got it on. When I reached my bike again, all the men and women that had been set up next to me were gone, but a bunch of pink-capped women were still there getting ready. My heat time was supposed to be at 8:35; that gave me 35 more minutes to get ready. I walked to the water to see who was swimming.
As I neared the edge, I realized I wasn't wearing my timing chip. Walking back to the bike set-up, I grabbed my chip and continued back to the water. A group of athletes was getting in the water to swim and warm-up. I decided to join them. A woman and I struck up a conversation and she told me the water was actually warm. I decided to test it out and she was right! It felt good! I wondered if I should ditch the wetsuit, but decided against it. When I got out of the water, the men were lining up for the Olympic course. That was when I realized I had been given the wrong cap color. Well shoot. I guess I would just start with the Olympic women.
Scott Tinley and the other men lined up (yes, Scott was there. Amazing!). After they took off, the women warmed up and got wet. The whistle blew and off we went. I felt strong. I was toward the back of the pack, but I was holding my own. Every night for the past two weeks, I've been reading Dave Scott and Glenn Town's triathlon training books. Dave Scott was a competitive Ironman who actually started as a swimmer. I took his words to heart and used the different approaches he suggested for spotting and the front crawl stroke. It worked! I didn't veer off course like I typically do! I made it to the end of the mile and a half and felt like I could have gone further!
Running up the rough road to my bike, I attempted ungracefully to pull my suit off. The faster I tried to go, the more jumbled I got. Swim cap? No, don't need that... Jersey? Where is my bike jersey? There we go. I'm set. As I pulled my bike off of its post, a woman to my right decided now would be a spectacular time to strike up a conversation. If you know me at all, you know that I am not one to interrupt and tell a person they are not important enough for my attention. I laughed politely at her jokes about "these darn wetsuits" as I slowly edged my way to the bike take out.
I got on my bike and was stopped by a hippy deciding to cross the path. She was just looking around at all the scenery only paying attention to herself as everyone yelled at her to get out of the way. I literally had to stop my bike and ask her if she could please move. Then up the hill I climbed. It was about an eighth the size of the hill at Wildflower, but it was enough to wear me down. To gain time, I didn't brake as I went back down the other side. I almost wiped out at the bottom turn, but steadied myself and slammed the pedals down to climb the next hill. On my training ride, I had taken this hill at 16mph. Now, I was going over 20mph and I knew that was too fast; I just needed to catch up. I passed a couple of people on their bikes then got to an aide station where the signs pointed left. This was not the left turn I had remembered, so I slowed down and looked around, but no one was directing me one way or another, so I turned left and went down an unpaved road for a bit until I hit a farm. This is not right. I turned around and smashed the pedals to make it back. Again, I had to pass the people I had already passed on the bike.
After being led astray, I decided to be extra cautious on the next turn. Three military men stood on the route, directing traffic. I slowed down and asked them which way to go then I hit the gas hard. As I passed the dinosaur, I knew I was about 10 miles into my 50 mile ride, but my energy level was still high and I felt really strong. I zoomed up the hill, out of my saddle. At the aid station, I grabbed a water bottle out of a boy's hand and it flew up in the air. In one amazing maneuver, I caught the bottle and took a swig of not-so-delicious water. "Nice catch," he yelled. "Dude, I know!" I shouted back, joyfully.
That was the moment I faced the fork in the road. Should I go the Olympic route and end this thing quickly, maybe placing? Or should I go with the original plan and turn right to continue on the long course? I came to Lake Lopez with a goal to do a half ironman. I was not going to cheat myself. Even if I didn't finish with the group, I was going to finish. Turning right, I powered through the hills until I saw an outhouse with a bike out front. Thank goodness for that cyclist's bad bladder! It saved me from being second to last!
The bike course decided to punish me for thinking that way though. As I made a sharp 180 degree turn around the mountain, I was faced with one of the longest hills I have ever climbed. I kept reminding myself, "You get to go down this on the way back". Richard had sent me an e-mail telling me it was all about "one stroke, one spin, one step at a time". I kept that in mind as I pushed up the hill.
When the lead cyclist passed me, I still had 11 miles until the turn-around mark. "Okay, I'm 22 miles behind the lead". The lead woman passed about 3 miles later. "Sixteen miles behind the lead female. I can do this." The hill was hard though and I spent most of it out of breath and out of the saddle. My legs ached. At mile 41, I was told to turn down another poorly paved road. Tri bikes are not made for roads like this. With every pedal, I was terrified my tire would pop. I made it out and back though, passing more dinosaurs along the way. What is with Santa Marians and their dinosaurs?
A little after the turn around, I saw the woman who had stopped at the outhouse. She was eight miles behind me. I picked up the pace and pedaled down the gnarly hill, up some other brutal hills and through some landslide areas until I could see the lake once again. Thinking I was almost done, I did the opposite of what G Town had suggested. Instead of slowing down and getting ready to transition, I used every resevoir of energy I had left. Bad, bad idea. When I got back to the last hill, I was told to turn right. WHAT?! I still had another eight or so miles to go. Good news was, I was only five miles behind the three men in front of me.
With much pain and sheer exhaustion, I found my way back to the last hill and somehow made it to the top and back to the transition area. I was so numb, I couldn't think straight. So I slowly pulled on my shirt and adjusted my race belt. I ate a full Hammer gel and drank some Cytomax before jogging to the run start. No one seemed to notice my transition because the Olympic athletes were starting to cross the finish. After 25 minutes of running, I couldn't go on, so I took a walk break. After one walk break, it was hard to get back into running. I passed a few people and completed the first lap feeling tired and weak. The military men started to run me to the finish line, but I had to tell them I still had another lap to go.
On my final lap, I spent most of it walking or doing a light jog mixed with sprints. I was incredibly disappointed in myself, but I reminded myself this was just a workout and my big event was not until November. I chatted with one man named Andy for a bit before I passed him then I found the woman who had trouble with her wetsuit at our first transition. We chitchatted for a second, then I continued on my way. At the last aide station, I still had 4 miles to run. The crew was just sitting chatting and not paying attention the fact that they had no water out. I ran up and asked for water. They shuffled around and tried to get me a cup before they realized they were out. I waited while they got the hose and filled up a cup. We chatted about why I chose to compete in this and how I thought they should try sometime. If I wanted to beat six hours, I needed to start moving again. I ran up the large hill, rounded the corner and made my way back down towards transition. The military men joined me for the last quarter mile of my run. I asked them all about what they were doing, where they were from, what they liked about living in SLO, etc. It was actually really fun. At the end, I broke off from them and sprinted to the finish. My stopwatch read 5:41.19. I beat my goal time! YAY!
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