World Championships destination Budapest

As I sit here on my 13 hours of flights heading home, I think about what was, what could have been & what will come. My adventure started well before September 2010, even before the start of this year. It’s been a hell of a year and to not recognize my journey without the beginning would be to read the last chapter first and think you know how it ends. Hell, I don’t even know where it ends.

I came to Budapest to race for Team USA, not to win, but to enjoy the final stretch running across the famous Chain Bridge. I wasn’t going to win, but I did have expectations to make the top 15. Last year I was 18th, this year I was better trained, better schooled, better disciplined, and better prepared. Having podiumed in all by 2 races this year (and still close), I was racing better than ever before. I learned new tricks to shave off precious seconds and was even schlepping my disk halfway across the world to really make it count. I had new swim coaching which was working. I had new speedy Zipp wheels whisking me about. I had gotten through a very trying period of physical exhaustion to feel a new kind of running. I had overcome a wrecked ankle, severe plantar fasciitis (muscle was so screwed I couldn’t curl my toes for 3 months), and my chronic sinus allergies (or whatever nightmare you want to call it) which made swimming & running a coughing mess.

But when I landed in Budapest, I threw on the running shoes and aimed for the Chain Bridge. I had spring and bounce, and could feel “it”. “It” is when your body is moving and at complete peace with what your mind is telling it to do. Go faster, ok. Turn over quicker, ok. Lengthen your stride, ok. It’s when your body says “let’s go, is that all you want?” All the typical aches and pains were still there. My lower back always a mess, my sinus on overdrive, my hamstring tweaky, but I had power. Coach Sergio Borges had been very positive about seeing me through the rough spots, and now I finally felt fit.

The days leading up to the race started posing some difficulties. First, there was the language. Hungarian is unlike anything we have heard in the states and from what I can understand, is not of Latin origins. If it is… well, it’s quite a few cousins down the road. They’ve got hyphens, dots, accents, hats & v’s over some of their letters. Sometimes all in one word. Heck, we even found a word with “jjj” in the middle. Really?? One J wasn’t enough, so how about 3??!? Our race course was situated in a man-made bay area off the Danube south of town center. Langyomanyosi bay. (No chance on swimming in the Danube, at 6 knots the current is a wee bit strong.) Try saying that to a taxi driver. We found that pointing to a map was the easiest means of communication. Hubby Dave is good with languages and the first thing he wanted to learn was “cheers” (and rightfully so since the first thing he wanted was Hungarian beer.) Sounds easy enough. Then he asked someone to write it down (because he hadn’t a clue what they were saying. So, here’s to you beer fans, Egészségedre!

After we learned our way around the town, we attempted a ride. Attempting a “workout” was nearly impossible. Picture the middle of Paris with more cobbles and bike paths on the sidewalks. The Hungarians are so incredibly nice, they will stop driving to politely advise you in Hungarian that you should be riding on the sidewalk, not the road as it’s too dangerous in the small, busy streets for silly bikers. (The pointing and gesturing lead the translating). They’re so bike friendly they have a designated bike path stretching a massive portion of the Danube. Now, there are some challenges on the bike path if you’re riding on a road bike, or better yet, a TT bike with fancy-smancy zipp wheels, but by golly, there’s a path and if I wanted to ride to Vienna, I could. In an attempt to get some kind of bike workout in during the week prior, hubby Dave & I decided to head outside of the city on said bike path to ride roads less traveled (by cars). Five & a half hours later we managed to get a measly 49 miles in. My intent was not to go out for a long ride, you just had to ride that far to get above 10mph!

The biggest challenge came in the form of weather. Last year’s reviews of temperatures & weather indicated a hot, semi-dry time of the year. Temps this past July were up to 40 degrees Celsius (aka, really hot). September rolled in and brought nothing but rain, wind & cold. In the 14 days we spent in the area, we got 2 days of sun. Not warm, but at least not raining. I packed all kinds of the wrong stuff. I wore my shorts once. I barely wore a T-shirt outdoors. Me and my Patagonia down sweater were inseparable. I didn’t bring a rain coat. I didn’t bring an umbrella. The only warm clothes I had were my jeans, my Team USA warm ups (although thin), and my down jacket. Thank goodness for trash bags! Clip a little hole out of the top, and two more holes for your arms, and viola, a rain-ish jacket-ish.

The morning of the race started somewhere about 3AM after deciding sleep was not going to happen and I could recite the line-up of songs from the club downstairs. No Doubt, Red Hot Chili Peppers, all good stuff, unless of course you’re trying to sleep. Gerry Foreman, fellow triathlete from San Diego (at 74!!) and flat mate was up too. The rain had been more on than off for the last 4 days and my spare running shoes were still wet from dropping the bikes off in transition the day before. The massive length of transition was on a grassy bank above the river. Already under 1-2” of water. ITU had indicated that disk wheels were not recommended in the conditions, so my precious disk would not even come out of its bag this trip. I had been in touch with Coach Sergio for advice on rainy conditions & logistics. Warming up? Shoes on the bike or off? Possible muddy conditions, and very very wet roads. “Stay warm” were his words of hope. I put on all my arm clothes and made sure me and my trash bag got a good 15-20 minute warm up run in the rain. My feet were beyond soaking and the trash bag, at that point (6AM), was maybe keeping me a bit warmer, but certainly I was already soaked through every layer of clothing I had on. I decided it was too risky to keep the shoes on the bike with the wet roads, and the grass didn’t seem too muddy so clipping in wasn’t going to be too big of an issue. I’d leave my shoes on the bike coming into T2, but alas, my well practiced flying dismounts were going to have to wait. It was too risky if brakes were questionable.

I had no idea what to expect with the swim. A festering sinus infection (massive thanks to Doc Stacy who called in an emergency short course of antibiotics) hit hard the morning I was flying out a week before the race. I had tried to outwit the impending infection but woke up to find I had most certainly failed. Team USA doc is fellow San Diegan Dr John Martinez, who also happened to be working with me on my sinus troubles for the nearly 2 years prior. Per docs orders, no warm up swims in the bay for me. Too many allergy issues already from those that had taken a dip in the bay. So race morning, it was a quick (~ 20 seconds) jump in the water and we were off. No warm up had been allowed. And it was cold. Not unbearably, but probably 57-58 degrees. I failed to find feet to draft from and had a hunch I was the draftor. The swim isn’t my strength and it never will be. I accept this. The bike however is my strength and I had no doubt that whomever was on my feet would not be there for long.
Transition was a continuous pool of water over a grassy field. I struggled to close my fingers and strip myself of my wetsuit, but it felt good to get my feet in bike shoes (love the toe warmers), even wet shoes. The bike was interesting. With 8 corners & 2 U-turns, there wasn’t much time to get up to speed before carefully negotiating a turn on wet roads with standing water. A section of unpaved road had been finished the night before so there wasn’t a chance to pre-ride the course. I passed a good number of girls but was not able to easily get into a rhythm. I have to say that the Mexican men don’t like getting chicked J. And as lovely as the Brits are….. PASS ON THE LEFT!!!!

All my new tricks were for not. No shoes on the bike, no flying dismounts, no speedy transitions. The goal became staying upright. I wasn’t concerned about me, concern came from not knowing if the rider behind you understood the dynamics of riding with wet brakes. Having successfully survived the bike, I joyously ran into T2 which was nearly entirely under water. After successfully negotiating 95% of transition, I somehow managed to practice baseball and found myself sliding on my ass to my bike rack. A few expletives and a gasp from someone (ref in transition?), I was in my soaking running flats and stomping puddles out of transition. Doc John brought the humor as I passed, “I got SUNSCREEN!” Haa… I would have loved to see the sun. The adrenaline was racing and the legs were turning. I tried to lengthen my stride and get into a power rhythm. My legs wouldn’t respond. Come on!! Move it girly! I knew I could go faster, my legs weren’t heavy, they just wouldn’t stride out. I noticed my hamstring, or shall I say, the knife in my ass. I was passed by an Aussie & SNG (Singapore??) racer with about 2K to go. I hooked on and kept pace. I had a good kick, so as long as I stayed close, I could finish it. Coming up to the Chain Bridge, my dream of this race, I gritted the teeth and passed the SNG racer and started closing the gap to the Aussie. The adrenaline was kicking in again and commanded my legs to go farther. But they wouldn’t listen. I finished in 26th. A far cry from the top 15 I was capable of doing. I left dejected and horrified when I noticed my run time was ~2 minutes off what it should have been. What the hell happened? The brain doesn’t work so well when racing. When the adrenaline fog released, I found myself unable to walk straight. My left hamstring was a mess and felt like it had a dagger through it. Lengthen the stride at the run? Hell, I couldn’t straighten my leg to lengthen my walk. Somehow that slip in T2 did more than I realized at the time. A few days after the race I watched the finish video and clear as day I was compensating by throwing my left leg out to avoid using my hamstring. When racing my brain had not wrapped around the idea of injury, just “stupid body, GO FASTER!!”.

The trek back to transition was slow, painful, cold & wet. Another downpour. I didn’t even bother to change out of my cold, soaked uniform. I put more wet clothes on top, and dragged 50 lbs of soaking transition crap back up river. Gerry walked with me back to the flat. A quiet, somber, gimpy trek. My season was now prematurely ended, and I was tired, soaking wet, very cold, hungry and upset. “Your limping” he said. All I could choke out was “I know.”

The race was the most miserable racing experience I had to date. I had realistic expectations and lived up to none of them. And I had a dagger in my ass to boot. I decided before I made any rash decisions I should probably shower, eat & sleep. In that order ASAP. Oh, and put a load of laundry in as I didn’t have a single piece of warm clothing that wasn’t dripping. I don’t remember much of the rest of the day.

The next day I felt better. Well, at least mentally. I had indeed pulled my hamstring and opted to taxi to the race finish to watch Sunday’s races as walking was not pleasant. The sun was out and the Sunday racers had it good. Dry roads and sun. Nobody asked for more. After watching fellow training buddy Marisa finish mere 2 seconds off 10th place and shooting shots of other Team USA racers, Dave & I headed out for a little R&R.

We drove to the southern wine region of Czech and stayed in a charming village of Mikulov and enjoyed the first warm afternoon of sun. Turns out, the CZ are serious about their beer… and Burcak (young wine). We arrive for the annual wine festival and begin our quest for the top Czech beers. The next day we ride through foggy vineyard and I am overcome with an amazing sense of peace. Yesterday my bikes shoes were soaking wet (and stinky I might add!) and I had no desire to jump on an go for a spin. After a good breakfast and a morning of blow-drying bike shoes, the feeling of riding through foggy grape vines, lakes & villages in complete quiet helped bring me back from the dead. Walking hurt. Running wasn’t possible, but I could ride ok.

We continued on to Prague where the first words out of my mouth were “oh my god!” It really is Robin Hood meets Lord of the Rings meets It’s a Small World. We stayed the first night in an affordable pension just outside of the Castle area. If you ever go to Prague, don’t stay here! The mosquito infestation was so bad both Dave & I slept with the blankets over our heads. We were too old to be playing Fort. We had planned a countryside ride the next day but instead opted to find new sleeping arrangements. Turns out, you can stay in a 4 star hotel for virtually the same cost as that stupid pension. We ate, drank, wandered and used our newly acquired umbrellas. Finally, the day before we were to leave Prague, a break in the rain. Since we couldn’t get the 2 rides we were hoping to do, we drove to Krivoklat Castle, parked the car & road a circle route to Karlstejn Castle. Just over 50 miles of complete CZ bliss. Forests, country farms, little villages, hills, river valleys & two very magnificent castles. A truly epic ride worth the journey and preceding challenges.

Now, it’s off to home to recover, heal a hamstring and whatever else has been slightly abused this season. We’ll see what next season brings. I started the year out with 6 weeks of injury, and it’s only fitting I end it with another 6 weeks of injury recovery. At least I’m well rounded J What happens next year we will see. I’m just so incredibly thankful for all the support I have received and words of encouragement that helped me get through a very rough year & final race.

Huge thanks to for your support to Worlds:

Sergio Borges X Training
Velo Bella
Tri Club San Diego
Gino Cinco & Function Smart Wellness
Sable Water Optics
Zealios Sunscreen by Personal Best Products