Something like I left my heart in San Francisco except I sure as heck didn’t leave my heart in Enumclaw. No love lost over at Mud Mountain down there.
A friend talked me into registering for the Mount Rainier Duathlon back in April. I use the term “friend” loosely. I think she likes it when I suffer. She talked me into the race by emailing me a link to registration. Deceptively simple. She’s tricky, that one. I said “No. No f*&king way.” But sure enough, not even ten seconds later, there I was all registered for this duathlon. (credit to Jim Gaffigan for his bit on blueberry picking. “I’ve got… eight. We can make a muffin!”)
Really the reason I decided to duathlon-it is because the night before I got to stay in a yurt. Ain’t no party like a yurt, yurt party, cause a yurt, yurt party don’t stop! I’ve got some pictures here somewhere. If I weren’t so blog-stupid you’d already have seen them.
So the yurt was really the best part of it all. Actually, now that I think about it, it wasn’t so great. I didn’t sleep much. It’s a more solid structure, but the walls are still like tent walls. Hopefully the scurrying I heard was outside the yurt, but you never know. I figured it was best to sit upright quickly as soon as you hear scurrying, even if you hit your head on the bunk above you. The thumping noise scares away whatever it is that’s scurrying. If you repeat that move several times, the scurrying things don’t come back. Trust me.
Early morning to breakfast at Charlie’s. Yum. But then we had to go to the race. Blah. Me and my concussion were not super excited about biking up Mud Mountain. Twice. Each loop was 14.4 miles for a total bike course of 28.8. The mileage sounded doable, the hill looked un-doable.
The duathlon was run, bike, run, so we started off with a 5.1 mile run. I felt strong, but slowed down the last mile to save some energy. Sometimes I’m smart during a race. Not always. I had what might possibly be the longest T1 (transition 1) in duathlon history. I sat on the ground and had a little talk with my bike, Stella. I wasn’t sure we could make it up Mud Mountain, not once, but twice. She insisted we give it a try. After all, we’d come all this way and what’s the worst that could happen? We could come in last? Eh. We could fall down? Eh. We could throw up? Eh. None of it sounded that bad, so we went for it.
Sure enough, first time up the hill, I popped my chain, struggled up that hill, and threw up in my mouth a little at the top. Pretty much my worst-case scenarios, but I was still moving. Then there was a wicked descent – fast and cold. One more loop to go. One more trip up Mud Mountain. I passed the transition area and could have decided to call it a day. Which is more interesting — puking/chain-popping or quitting? At least I’d have a better story.
Second loop I was faster on the flats which made me feel pretty good. Although I didn’t see a single soul in front or behind me which didn’t feel so good. Was I last? Probably. Oh well. The second trip up Mud Mountain, I was pedaling my butt off (I’ve since managed to get my butt back), when I realized I was going about 1 MPH. I was basically stopped, but still trying to pedal. Slowly, the realization hit me that I wasn’t actually moving anymore. I couldn’t unclip from my pedals fast enough and TIMBER…. Luckily, I was deliriously tired so I laughed as I lay underneath my bike. After a short rest, I picked myself up and kept biking.
Back at T2, I was elated that I got to rack the bike and run again! Funny how much more I love running now that I’m forced to bike and swim too. Many of you know the feeling of trying to run after a hard bike ride. Your legs feel like lead. You feel wobbly, slow, and heavy. It usually takes me about 30 minutes to loosen the legs up and get a rhythm. Unfortunately, this particular run was only 3.8 miles. It took me 32 minutes. So basically I felt normal for about two minutes. Most of the run felt super duper slow, but it turned out to be a great pace. I even passed two people on this last leg. So I didn’t end up last. I came in 105th out of 111. Nice! There were some additional DNF’s (Did Not Finish), so I was happy to have finished. And I wasn’t last! Almost, but not quite.
Puking, falling, and almost finishing last does make for a funny little story.
A week or so later I was finally ready to get on my bike again. Where were my bike shoes? Dealing with post-race exhaustion and all our gear as we left the race site, I figured I’d left my bike shoes somewhere in Enumclaw. I had almost written them off and even bought a new pair when I decided to email the race director. She had them! Someone found them in the parking lot and turned them in! Awesome! And she lives in Auburn so I didn’t have to go back to Enumclaw and get them. Cause I don’t think I need to go to Enumclaw again for a long time. Mud Mountain lurks down there. And if Christine sends me the link again next year… who am I kidding, yeah, I’d probably do it again.
I live in Enumclaw and found your post through a google alert. You are a very funny writer (probably rider, too). You actually made me LOL. Great post!
Thanks for the comment! Glad to make people laugh with my adventures. I actually really liked Enumclaw — the people were great! – and I look forward to eating a huge breakfast at Charlie’s again sometime soon!