The following race report was written by Stephen Ziegler. He is a prolific triathlete who has also run the Boston marathon numerous times. Check out his blog The Road 2 Oz, which chronicles his bike ride across Australia to raise money for breast cancer research.
Race morning was calm and fairly stress free. I arrived at transition early enough to set up my gear without having to rush. That is, until I realized I forgot my cleats in the car. I’m so used to having them attached to my bike that they became a complete afterthought. A one-mile round trip jog later and I was ready to head to the swim start with my wetsuit, cap, and goggles.
At this point, they were rushing people out of transition. Being in the 25-29 age group (one of the last waves), I was in no hurry. The only advantage to such a late start was the fact that there was ample time for a thorough warm up. There was a very large grass area that was suitable for stretching and light warm ups. The national anthem ensued and the pros were off!
Usually the wait for a race like this is agonizing. This time, however, I was relaxed and unusually confident. The irony is that I did no formal training for the event. I signed up only because I’m a local and the thought of missing an Ironman branded race in my backyard was too much for me to bear. When I signed up, I knew that my summer “bike across Australia and New Zealand” adventure would make training impossible. I wasn’t concerned because I didn’t care about competing and was just interested in enjoying the experience of taking part in a massive local race.
Averaging over 400 miles per week on the bike during the summer on insanely hilly terrain and snowstorms, I knew I was fit enough to complete the race, albeit painfully and slow. My only concern was the swim, since it is my weakness and I did zero pool workouts in the four months leading up to the race. But my flawed thinking that a wetsuit can turn a complete slob into Michael Phelps falsely eased my concerns.
The 100 or so meter swim to the actual swim start was a good opportunity to find my stroke again and get a little extra warm up. However, worry set in when I reached the swim start and realized that my breathing was labored. How would I swim 2,000 meters after that? Things didn’t get any better when the gun went off. I focused on deep breathing and long, easy strokes. Lake Mercer has a reputation of being filthy and unpleasant, but I would describe it as a perfect venue for a calm and fast triathlon swim. The lake was like glass, even after following several other age groups.
Even with perfect conditions, calm water, and plenty of room to work with, I still found myself nearly going into oxygen debt after only 400 meters. I switched to two stroke breathing and even easier strokes so that I could finish without exerting all of my energy on the swim. The buoys were well marked and, unlike the NJ State Olympic Triathlon, there were barely any turns, so sighting and navigating the course was incredibly easy.
Getting passed by the people in the age group behind you is always embarrassing and frustrating, but I knew it was inevitable in the swim for this race. I kept telling myself that I didn’t care about my finish time, and that I just needed to get out of the water so I could cruise on the bike. In what seemed like an eternity later, I reached the final turn and was headed for land. I ended up getting into a decent breathing rhythm after switching to two stroke breathing, but I was still pretty gassed when I hit land.
Wetsuit strippers were there to greet me and officially end my swim. Relief set in when I realized that I was going to finish the race now that I was out of the water. The swim course was calm, easy, and well marked. I’m looking forward to going back to this race next year with much better training under my belt.
iron swimming 