Race Report: Eagleman - Part 1

Eagleman 2010 - “We came. We saw. We got our asses kicked.”

I drove to Cambridge with my buddy Jay (who was also racing) on Saturday morning. The check-in at the hotel wasn’t until 1pm, so that gave us plenty of time to hit up registration and cruise through the expo. The race swag was nice (tech t-shirt, water bottle, socks, hat, and Powerbar goodies); the expo however had no deals to be found…unless you considered $50 dollars off a $600 wetsuit a deal.

Race bags in hand, we headed back to the hotel to check in, and then took a quick ride to preview the run course. It was hot, humid, and there was very little shade, so after the ride, we dropped off our bikes at T1 and took a quick swim to cool down. I can’t say I was too surprised, but the water was very warm…if I had to guess, it was probably 80 degrees. That's old-people-pool-during-Jazzercise-class-kinda-warm. Not bad if you are just wading in it, but it would be less than comfortable racing in it, especially wearing a wetsuit. Per USA Triathlon rules (as well as WTC rules) if the water is above 78 degrees, you aren’t allowed to wear a wetsuit unless you plan on forfeiting any prizes or Kona qualifying slots; if the water is above 80 degrees, wetsuits are illegal regardless. Consider this information foreshadowing for race morning.

We had a late lunch at a bar overlooking the water, and watched the USA/England soccer match, wishing we could be pounding beers instead of ice-waters. Ok…we had one beer. But it was funny, as the bar was filled with triathletes, and everyone was looking around at the other athletes to see if they were drinking alcohol, almost waiting for permission. As soon as one guy “manned up” and ordered a beer, almost everyone else followed suit. We headed back to the hotel to organize our race gear for the next morning, and tried to get some sleep.

It felt like as soon as my head hit the pillow, it was time to wake up. The alarm was set for 4am, and we were in the car heading to the shuttle buses by 4:30am. As we boarded the bus which would take us to the race site, I though of how people sometimes say “dogs can smell fear”. That’s sort of what the bus was like…it is dark silence only peppered with some nervous conversation, with the smell of neoprene, sunscreen, and sweat in the air. Combined with anxiety, anticipation, and nervous energy…the smell of fear was prevalent.

Jay and I both felt surprisingly calm, which I think was aided by the fact that we were both doing this together. Triathlon is an individual sport by nature, but it was nice to have someone there to share concerns, thoughts, and strategy. At the very least, we both realized what we were about to do was going to be quite unpleasant at times, and that we would likely need to push through a very dark place in our minds, in order to finish. Misery loves company.

We passed through the entrance to T1, getting our arms and legs marked with our race numbers, and then headed to our bikes to set up for the day. About 15 minutes into the process, the Race Director made two announcements over the loud speaker: “we will be starting about 25 minutes behind schedule” and “we just checked the water temperature…no wetsuits will be allowed today, the water is 79+ degrees.” Because of our experience during the swim the previous day, I wasn’t really surprised by this decision, even though it was the first time in the 30 year history of Eagleman that it wasn’t “wetsuit legal.” But you would have thought the Race Director had killed someone’s dog, based on the freak-out many people were having. It was pathetic…I even saw a few people who literally heard the announcement, packed up their gear, and dropped out of the race before it even started. This blew my mind; almost everyone trains in a swimming pool, without a wetsuit, in water that is between 75-80 degrees. The wetsuit aids buoyancy and warmth, making it slightly easier to swim, no doubt. But complaining about the distance of the swim, or even dropping out entirely? That is pathetic, and those people shouldn’t have even been there in the first place if they were not comfortable swimming 1.2 miles without a wetsuit. I’m not the world’s fastest swimmer, but I have worked hard at it, and for someone who didn’t grow up swimming, I tend to find myself in the top third of racers on the swim-leg. The “no-wetsuit” rule was applied to everyone across the board, so everyone had to deal with it. That was fine with me.

Jay and I chatted with his family as we waited for our swim wave, which helped to keep our nerves calm. The pros went first, followed by age group waves each separated by 8 minutes, in different colored swim caps. We were actually closer to 30 minutes behind schedule by the time the first group left, and since we didn’t start our wave until almost an hour later, that meant we’d be on the run-course during the hottest part of the day, between 1-3pm. As I looked at my watch, it was not even 8am and the air temperature was already 85 degrees. I took a deep breathe, and felt the first slivers of fear and doubt creep in to my body. There was no time to address it…we were walking to towards the corral, and our swim was about to start.