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Hel of a Du - A Hell of a Way to Come Back!
By Betsy Delcour
12/15/2009 |
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It’s been a long road, this comeback from having my baby – and the journey is still far from over! I’m talking about my road back to [relative] fitness and weight loss. But this past weekend I took my first test to see not how much still lay ahead of me, but of how far I’ve come. I’m painfully aware of how my clothes fit and what the scale says when I step on it, but those things aren’t 100% of who I am. Along the way of being pregnant, then giving birth to my little girl Genna, I temporarily had to give up some of the things that are central to my identity: running and cycling.
This weekend I competed in a somewhat obscure race outside of San Antonio, in Helotes, TX. It’s called “Hel of a Du,” both for its location, and the toughness of the course. I chose this race because a) as a triathlete I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of doing a duathlon, especially since swimming is NOT my forte; b) because I really needed a goal! And c) because the timing was right. Although my baby is now six months old, it’s taken me a while to recover enough to regularly start “training” (rather than just the easy jog/walks I had to do for the first few months). I finally signed up for this event in October, and tested the strength of my marriage by enlisting my hubby to be my coach.
Now, Helotes is on the western edge of San Antonio, in what is known as Texas Hill Country. I live outside of Houston, and as a non-native Texan, I had only heard of this region from reading Lance Armstrong’s It’s Not About the Bike. Living north of Houston, in The Woodlands, I do have access to some hills, which I visited maybe 4 times on my bike this Fall. :) But I have to hand it to my husband Casey, he put together a solid plan for me – not so much to crush/discourage me, but just enough to get me ready for this event. With this being our 4th year of marriage, he knows me well enough not to ask about my training or if I’m sticking to the plan – he just let me be, and quietly sent me spreadsheets for each week. I would push Genna in the jogger for some of my runs, but most of my workouts happened when Case got home from work (sometimes resulting in trainer rides or treadmill runs) or he donated prime weekend time for me to get my rides and bricks in while he took care of G. Thanks honey!
This weekend arrived and I knew I was in no position to do great. After all, I’m still 15lbs heavier than before I got pregnant. But for almost the first time ever, I wasn’t nervous about the race; rather, I was truly excited about getting back out there! I was looking forward to feeling the pain of the hills and the sense of achievement at the finish line, but more than anything else, I was looking forward to seeing my little family on the side of the road, waving to my baby and doing this race for her. I’ve always looked forward to being a positive role model for my future kids through my multisport lifestyle, and this was my first chance to do it!
We arrived in town late on Friday night, so I couldn’t really see the hills that awaited. Slept great, woke up, had my first pre-race breakfast in over a year, stepped outside…OMG. Hills. Lots of them. With buildings on top, which meant there were roads up there. Helotes seemed like a small town, so odds were good that those buggers would be part of the race. Embrace it!! I thought of the drills I did on my trainer and of the times I’d ridden hills in the middle of nowhere in New England – conquering hills is a frame of mind. If you accept that it will hurt and your speed will slow down, there’s nothing to it!
Got to the race – wow, everyone looked so fit! Deep breath, “I’m here to have fun, think of my baby and finish with a smile on my face!” It was a pretty small event, run by Soler's Tri Sports. Cool country-looking store, only it was filled with tri stuff – sweet! I would guess that there were maybe about 100 participants, including relay teams. The first run was 3.6 miles – a loop with a few small hills and one steep nasty one. It was a nice laid-back start (just an official saying “on your mark, get set, go!”) and plenty of participants around me chatting and making jokes. The perfect race for me at this stage of the game! There was another lady, maybe in her 40s, who looked fit but was running a pace that was comfy for me. I stuck with her and just focused on taking it easy – this was the beginning of a [for me] long day. Somehow I ended up pulling ahead of her and the others around me – they were on the same plan as me, but perhaps they knew more about what was ahead than I did. I was a bit dismayed when I came to the monster hill (“Hel Hill”) and decided to walk. OK, I’m not accustomed to walking in the 2nd mile of a race, but this thing was straight up. I decided that rather than jacking my heart rate to not move much faster than a walk, that I would power walk to the top and continue running from there. I was about halfway to the top when I heard a couple of guys behind me. I knew they were talking about me. I guess hearing “blah, blah, blah walking!! Blah, blah, hahahahaha!” gave it away. I bid my time. It took them long enough to catch me, which they did just before the crest. I let them pass me, then I picked it back up and passed them. I never saw them again. Ha!
Into T1, and most of the bikes were gone. I was just hoping there would be someone close enough ahead of me so I could know where to go! I had committed a serious sin and had NOT studied the course, though I did have the map in my pocket just in case I really got into trouble! Saw Case and Genna, he had the camera (ugh, try to suck in and smile!) and I hopped on the bike after a super slow transition. It was in the 40s and misty out, with lots of wet roads, but for some reason I decided it would be a good idea to take off my toe warmers and leave my gloves in transition.
Off on the bike. First mile and I saw a group of girls behind me. I coasted in the hopes that they’d catch up. Obviously this was not to become a pack, rather it was to let them get in front of me so I’d know where to turn! Despite coasting and sitting up, literally waiting for them to catch up, they seemed to fall further back. I just shook my head – how odd! – and hoped that there really were volunteers at each turn. I was 100% ready to accept getting lost – it would be totally my fault – but I was keeping my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t!
The start of the race featured smooth roads and a gorgeous tailwind. A few little rollers, but I could have coasted up them at 20mph with the wind. I knew things would change! Soon there was a right turn onto a chip and seal road, directly into the wind. It was ugly. But I stayed down low, stayed hydrated and continued to pass people. So far no one had passed me, which was a hoot! I said something positive to each person I passed, but usually got the dazed stare in return. It could have been because they were working hard, or it could have been “@#$^ that chubby chick is passing me!!” Haha! Regardless, I certainly took no offense if the others didn’t want to chat. It was getting tough out there, and it turns out the worst was ahead of us.
Just before the 11th mile, we turned right onto Rte 211 – this was the road that would take us up to the tops of the ridges I had seen first thing in the morning. At this point, the road was pretty nasty – it looked like it was new, but seeming more “chip” than “seal” and with all the wetness and gravel, then with the cold damp air and the wind, conditions were ripe for mental outlooks to turn ugly. At this point, I started catching more and more people and passing them. Although some people had chuckled before the race when they heard I was from Houston, it seemed evident that being a local did not make one a natural King of the Mountains. With the rising elevation, the scenery became more interesting. There was a sort of lushness to our surroundings – lots of low-lying bushes and trees (mesquite?) – that defied my idea of what Hill Country would look like. At one point, I was looking ahead to the left at an area of tall grass and large bushes. It was a whitish, cylindrical thing that was huge – as my eyes adjusted, I was thinking ‘is that a water tank?’ – but then as I got closer, I saw it was a giant long-horn steer, standing perfectly still except for his jaws which were chewing something. Cud? Grass? Whatever. It was a fun little TX moment though.
Continuing through the climbs, there was one guy up ahead who had passed other riders as well. I eventually caught him, but we were both dying, inching up the hill. He was a nice guy, a local, and he informed me that there was just one more climb after this one. We’d have a fast downhill to a right turn (sigh), then it would be there. Really steep, but shorter than what we’d had so far. I asked if he knew what grade the climb was, “double digits?” He didn’t know, just said it was really, really bad. On the downhill, I dropped him and mentally prepared myself. I still hadn’t had any mental lows at this point, which was amazing. I’m an extremely emotional person, and I generally have lots of highs and lows when I race. This time I was perfectly even-keeled – if things felt tough, I reminded myself that everyone had the same conditions, and a lot of people probably felt worse than I did. I actually felt pretty good. There would be no feeling sorry for myself today!
At the bottom of the downhill, I made the right turn, and there it was. Yes, it was a stinker, but I could see the top of it from where I was, so it wasn’t long at all. I granny geared it and did my best to keep my cadence sort of up. At one point I glanced down and saw 5.7mph. Nice! At this point, still no one had passed me, which was pretty cool. I looked behind for my buddy, and he was just making the turn. I sent some positive vibes his way. If what he said was true, then the hard part was over and the last 7 miles ahead would all be downhill! It was at this point that I finally got passed by two guys – on the long descent towards the finish – but I smiled when I saw that both of them were relay riders. Awesome!
Coming into T2, I saw the top female running towards the finish. Whatever ego I had begun to feel from my bike ride was firmly put back in place! At any rate, I was happy to see Casey – Genna had been asleep in her stroller for a while at that point – and got ready to run. I was covered in mud specks and had little cuts all over my hands from the gravel spraying up on me (yeah, the roads were bad!). The worst part was that my feet were frozen. This had happened to me twice at Mooseman, and I knew how miserable things could get running on frozen feet. I started my shuffle – not before nearly tripping over some loose kids in the transition zone – and my feet slowly defrosted without incident. The race was so small that I didn’t see anyone ahead of me. Within the first 400 yards of the run, one of the guys I had passed on the bike blew by me. Which was fine. I was prepared for EVERYONE I had passed on the bike to pass me on the run! I rounded the corner and there was another woman up ahead of me. I was closing on her, but was really, really sore and cramping everywhere. I decided to walk the uphills, and she did too. I eventually passed her, but two other women would pass me before the end of the run. It wasn’t pretty, but not as ugly as I had expected. Before I knew it, I rounded the corner for the long uphill to the finish. What a great feeling! Nothing about my times that day were spectacular – or even decent – but the sense of accomplishment, and more importantly, feeling like “me” again, felt so great. A big hug from Case (Genna was still sleeping) and sharing my battle stories with him while stretching and walking out were such a nice treat – the things I used to take for granted before!
Soler Sports had a shower available in the ladies’ room, so I was able to clean up while Case grabbed my gear out of transition. Upon walking out the store, I found out I had placed 2nd in my AG. Hilarious! But I’ll take it! And I get a long-sleeved cycling jersey as my prize – nice!
This is definitely a race I would recommend. The distances are 3.6mi/26mi/3.6mi. This race is held twice a year, I believe in September and December, has a great laid-back atmosphere on a really challenging course. Part of its charm is the small size of the race, but I think it deserves to be bigger. As a triathlete, a duathlon gives you the chance to skip the swim and really rip your legs off. I’ll admit that laying in my bed that night, I felt like the dude from Misery. It was a good pain though…
For more info, check out http://www.trisolerracing.com/.
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