Crazy Day For Virginia Duathlon

The 2008 Virginia Duathlon held at Chippokes Plantation State Park has to be one of the most bizarre races I’ve witnessed. Everyone expected the temperature to be lower than the end-of-week 76°F, but no-one anticipated a crazy cold front that brought icy winds and showers of rain and sleet.

The 60 mile drive to Surry from Virginia Beach was quite uneventful (aside from almost getting lost of course, but that’s another story) and we arrived at the race site with just over an hour to spare. I tracked down the other half of my relay team (who hadn’t get lost) and was pleased to find out he’d already picked up our timing chip, race numbers and t-shirts. He’d also managed to set up his bike and bike gear in the transition zone, so I headed over to check out the location of his bike in readiness for the handover after the first 5k run.

At around 8:30am I set off to check out the run course which would also serve as my warm up. The course was pretty much a straight out and back from the start line (aside from one right turn early on in the run). The camber of the road was quite severe on both sides, but running right down the middle was fine. Not sure if this would be possible during the race of course, but I’d deal with that in about 30 minutes time.

I managed about a mile and a half warm up before bumping into a friend from Virginia Beach who was also on a team – he was the bike guy on a mixed relay and was warming up on his bike trainer just outside the transition area. As we were chatting I heard the pre-race meeting begin, so headed off to listen to any last minute instructions and information (most of which pertained to the bikers and the bike course).

About 10 minutes to go before the start, a light rain started to fall which soon turned into sleet. The air temperature still didn’t feel too cold and I did some stretches to stay loose at the side of the start line and waited for the first wave to go off at 9:00am. Looking back, I wonder how many of the athletes would have chosen not to start the race had they known how bad the weather conditions would get? Actually, knowing how duathletes and runners in general are, probably not many…

Finally it was almost time for my 5k to get underway. I chatted to several athletes on the start line and spotted the runner of the only other male team in the race who I knew to be much faster than me. I wondered how much time he’d put on me on the first run and wondered if my bike guy could make up enough time to give us a substantial lead going into the second run. It turned out none of this would matter. Now, with a minute or so to before the starting horn, the sleet came down heavier and the wind seemed to pick up a little, but finally we were off.

As predicted, the fast guy went tearing off. I settled in to a rhythm and chatted to a couple of the early leaders as we headed toward the first turn with a nice tailwind and slight downhill to help us along. I knew I had no chance of staying with “the fast guy”, so I found my own pace and was soon clear in second place and feeling pretty good. As I approached the first mile (5:39), the first wave of runners were heading back toward the two mile mark and I could tell by their running action they were running into a headwind.

At the turnaround I counted I was about a minute down on the lead runner – not too bad considering and maybe I could limit how far ahead he’d finish if I picked it up a little. However, the sleety snow was really coming down now, and into the headwind it was actually quite painful as it hit my legs and face. Moreover, at two miles I’d slowed a little (a 6:01 mile) and was finding it difficult to keep my leg turnover going – possibly due to the 20 miler I’d completed just 3 days ago, or probably due to the cold and wind slowing me down today.

The third mile was slower again (6:17), but thankfully I was back in the transition area and handing off the timing chip to my bike guy. Conditions were already quite bad for running and I figured it would be even worse for the bikers out on the roads. I wished Chris good luck, urged him to be careful and ride safe, and off he went.

Run #1 (18:49):

The dry clothes I’d left in transition were saturated – not just wet but covered in icy slush too. I waited until the coast was clear before jogging out of transition towards the shelter of the registration area where my wife was waiting. I sipped gatorade as I watched runners return to transition, collect their bikes and head off on their 23 mile ride. Some of them took time to bundle up and dress for the conditions, others, more conscious of their transition time than the bizarre weather, just jumped on their bikes and were gone.

I was already starting to feel the cold and headed back to my car to warm up and dry off some clothes. I predicted I had about an hour before Chris would be back and wasn’t really sure what to do for the best. I stretched a little, drank a little, consumed an energy gel and just watched the sleet come down. I must be honest, I was glad to be just running a couple of 5k’s and not riding in these conditions. I’m not the most skilled rider at the best of times and it turned out the weather would challenge the best of the bikers.

With about 10 minutes to spare, I left the warmth of my car, pulled on hat and dry gloves and jogged to the tent by the transition area. A couple of minutes later, the race leader arrived – he looked absolutely frozen and could hardly dismount his bike. Several more riders soon followed and the picture didn’t get any better. One cramped up, sat slumped on his bike and had to be helped off and wrapped with blankets and towels. Another wheeled his bike to the side and called it a day – no more racing for him today. By now, I was starting to worry about my bike guy and all the other riders out on the course, but as soon as the thought entered my head, Chris appeared and I had to sprint across to transition to meet him.

He was absolutely freezing, shaking and shivering. He’d ridden fantastically and put us ahead of the other male team, but couldn’t feel his hands and asked me to remove the chip from his ankle. I threw my hat down, headed out of transition and shouted to Chris to get warmed up and to look after himself. I can only imagine how bad it was on the bike and totally relieved he’d arrived back safely.

My legs had stiffened up in the hour or so since the first 5k and I was conscious of not starting too fast in case I cramped. I also wanted to save something in case there was a battle at the end for first male team – not that I would have much chance against “the faster guy”, but I wanted to save something nonetheless.

I was tempted to look around, but as “fast guy” would probably come flying by me at any moment anyway, there didn’t seem much point and I just concentrated on my cadence and tried to relax as best I could. I was surprised at my 6:03 first mile (it felt much slower) and with only two miles to go, I was still out in front. At the turnaround I was convinced “the fast guy” would be right there ready to strike, but he wasn’t. I was surprised. My lead must have been at least a couple of minutes, so surely he couldn’t catch me now?

At the two mile mark (6:08 split) there was still no sign of him and I guessed his bike guy must have had troubles (not sure what the problem was, but their team recorded a DNF). At this point I was struggling to keep the same leg turnover going, and decided to back off slightly to avoid a muscle injury. No point risking anything at this stage of the race. Finally I reached the three mile mark with a 6:26 mile and thankfully the transition area and finish line were in sight.

Run #2 (19:35):

My time wasn’t fast, but for once I didn’t really care. I was happy to finish and still in shock at the sight of the athletes still out on the course. Some were so cold they couldn’t unbuckle their bike helmet and ran the whole distance with it still planted on their head. Some spent minutes just trying to put on their running shoes. Many were so cold they couldn’t jog out of the transition area.

I headed back to the tent where hot food and drink were being served. Chris, my bike guy, was blue in the face and still shivering some 20 minutes after finishing his ride. I felt really bad for him and somewhat guilty for what he’d been through. It must have taken at least a couple more hours for him to warm up. Several athletes ended up in an ambulance with hypothermia. Thankfully all came around without trips to the hospital. Several riders took a wrong turn and had to be picked up and driven back to the race site. Many DNF’d and surely won’t have any regrets about doing so. My hat goes off to everyone who took part, whether they finished or not.

To end on a positive note, we won first place Male Team and picked up a very cool wooden “decoy” award (pictured left) and I have to say I owe it all to Chris. To be honest, I’m really just glad he made it back safe and sound after the treacherous ride. Bike riders must be a hardy bunch – his only regret was not wearing bulkier winter gloves (he couldn’t feel his hands after a few miles!) and he’s even talking about us teaming up again in the future. Watch this space for more “Team Brace Yourself“….