I went to Ixtapa, Mexico for an ITU Continental Pro Triathlon race on May 22nd. Meeting my goal of finishing within the top 8% of time for points, I finished in 8th place and was the 2nd American finisher of the day.
I arrived in Mexico on Thursday for the Saturday race. Much of the two days before were spent in preparation and practice. Staying hydrated was a full-time concern since the air temperature could get up to 98 degrees and it was super humid.
The beach area of Ixtapa was flooded with triathletes. One of my favorite things about traveling out of the country to race is realizing that the sport exists everywhere, that other people live and train just like I do, all over the world. They have the same wheels, same understanding, same focus, but I bet they don’t deal with snow and ice storms…
I went to a swim orientation meeting on Friday morning. The surf was so high! The waves could get up to about 10 feet. Most of the athletes went to the meeting, but skipped going in the water. I decided to practice some body surfing to get over my nerves (I am not very good at this, but hey, where the heck would I practice?!)
There was really just one huge wave to break through, and then you were pretty much safe in the deep water. To get through a wave, it’s best to swim under if possible. That way, the current takes you under the wave into the deep water. If you try to go over the wave, it will swallow you into a washing machine. Getting out to the deep water was exhausting. It took a few tries to break the wave, but I was able to get through. Coming back was another story. I am just not big and strong enough to body surf a 10 foot wave! It swallowed me up and I was hanging out under the ocean, not knowing which way is up or down, relaxing like a rag doll until it spit me back up into the deep water. How scary! I learned the hard way that it’s best to let the wave pass, and then swim as hard as you can with the hope that the next one won’t get you. That swim practice had my nerves on end for the next day’s race.
The day before an ITU race, all the pro athletes have to report to a meeting. If you are even a minute late they could disqualify you from competition. I headed over there quite early! At the meeting, race officials go over rules, the course, and any questions that come up. The course was set for two laps of swimming, meaning we would have to run out of the water and back in again—two times through the entry and exit of the colossal wave—oh no!!
The morning of the race, the surf was still crazy. And…the buoys weren’t out to mark the course. Either they would cancel the swim or put them out there at the last minute. I went to check in at the transition area, and they announced that they would make a final decision about the pro swim course 30 minutes before the race. I went about normal warm-up routines and race prep. Baby powder in the shoes since it’s so hot and we don’t wear socks, numbers on, cycling shoes clipped into the bike to make transition faster, shoes and hat set out for the run, sign in and take a photo at the desk, ready. Then the announcement: swim cancelled. We would run 3K instead, bike 40K (draft-legal), run 10K. Excellent.
The race started at a very narrow start line, and I was numbered towards the back. It was a little hard to move around, but once we got going I was able to pick off a few positions and run in the top 15. The first kilometer stayed pretty close, until we got to a big hill. The uphill separated things a little, but interestingly, the downhill really set the front pack apart. It takes a lot of quad and core strength to go downhill fast without jarring your knees and joints too much.
Transition was so fast and exciting. Every second matters when you’re trying to get into a pack in a draft-legal race. I threw on my Rudy Project helmet and shades, ran barefoot to the line, and hopped on my bike mid-pack. There was one girl who ran herself into a 15 second lead, but was caught by the pack within the first kilometer. I went to get in my shoes, and hit a pothole that tossed one of my bottles right out of the cage. This was not a good thing on a hot day. I would have to get one of the plastic bag hand-ups, something I don’t think I had ever practiced. I took a Clif Shot and tried to recover from the intensity of the first run.
Races south of the states have a few things figured out. First, there are excellent places to recover after the race: the beach, pool, restaurants, fun and sun everywhere. Coming in close second is the energy of the fans and Reggaeton music. Third, they hand up water in plastic bags on the bike and run course—that’s so much easier to drink! On lap two of the bike course I went for one of the bags and got it! Whew! That made up for a lost water bottle and some of the dizziness from the heat that started to set in.
In the final 2K of the bike course, there were a couple of hard attacks, but nothing stayed away. We came into transition as a group of about 15, and again, every second mattered. I racked my bike next to another athlete at the same time. Her bike fell onto my shoes. I yelled for her to pick it up, but she took off running instead. It probably seemed faster to her, until she was disqualified! I dug out my shoes, put them on (we use elastic laces so we don’t even have to tie our shoes), and took off.
I went through eight water bottles on that run, two per lap, drinking a little and then tossing the rest over my head to try and keep my core body temperature down in the heat. I wish I had not been so conservative on the first of the four laps, but it allowed me to increase my pace and pass five runners on the course. Most exciting was passing one of the Mexican athletes in the finishing stretch, a total upset!
I crossed the line, went over to medical, got draped in ice towels, and smiled on a good day in the sun.