I think it was mostly for my mental benefit since obviously what I would find there would leave me little to do other than just know what was in store, which is actually important in a race. Things like where are the hills, are there any tricky downhills and turns, what's the pavement like...all things I knew I wouldn't be able to see at o-dark-thirty on race morning.
So I packed up Tilley and Laika and out we went. Thanks to a side window that wouldn't roll up all the way and a pacing, window scratching Laika, I was really jittery on the drive out. I was fine once I got there, and could see it - really picture it - in my minds' eye. John asked me later why I was so jittery and I said it boiled down to performance anxiety stemming from a few things. In no order:
1. It's been a while....a long while. My last race (the mini triathlon we put on for our wedding in June 05 notwithstanding) was in April 2005. Would I remember what to do? When I did, would my body respond in the right way?2. That last race was unfun. A swim of 62 degrees, 42 outside, and enough rocking and rolling on the swim to turn months of dedicated training into a panic fest. This topped by a rolling hilly bike where my legs never really thawed out, and it wasn't one to reflect back and and say, ah, I miss that. And believe me, two and a half years is pleeeenty of time to replay THAT in one's head maaaany times.
3. I was going to be alone. Being new to the city and with a husband at an all-day training, this would be my first race totally alone. I was also bummed that there was no way for Tilley to hang out and watch the race after all the running she's been doing with me. Laika's cheered me on at tons of races, but this would have been Tilley's first. For me, so much of the race ritual has been about friendship and family - racing together, or taking turns going to each others races for moral support. I think doing a race solo would be less of a deal if either I had raced recently, or at least knew folks in the community a la TriCATS in DC. There would be none of that. I finally decided to take Tilley and let her nap in the car during the race itself, much like she had done with me in the past for brick workouts at Columns Drive.
4. I was sick. Despite taking the afternoon Friday to rest, I was counting on Claritin to get me through the race. I knew that even though I might have drier sinuses, I would still be "down" and have to be really careful about hydration to not get the chills on the run.
5. I was bloated. Yes! I had 9 weeks to do the math to figure out I would be at peak PMS for this race, and two months to pull off alchemy to change those dates, and didn't. So imagine - if you will - packing on about 6 extra pounds of aqua saddlebags around the waist and the chest just in time for a race. Looking forward to packing all THAT into a wetsuit.
6. I was going to be slow, and I knew it. Not only did I only start really training 9 weeks ago, but I had no base. In past races, effort would hurt but my muscles were buffered by several years of biking. That was gone now.
Ultimately, I had to take this race at face value. The goal was to remember what it was like, and to start again with inspiration and experience, and begin to build again.
I splurged and bought a new race top for the occasion, and carefully, ritualistically laid out everything I needed for the next day. I selected alternating black and silver toenail polish for the occasion. I hydrated. I took a hot bath. I set my alarms, and I was ready.
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