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Road biking, dirt road riding on Frankenbike, tandem riding, group riding, time trialing, randonneuring - I love to ride, and I love to write. As I've traveled along on two wheels, I've learned one thing: Expect Adventure. Join me on the journey!

Betty Jean Jordan

Monday, October 12, 2015

Rock ‘n RollMan Half Iron Triathlon

A few weeks ago my friend Jennifer Cain put the word out that she needed someone to take her place in the bicycle leg of a relay team for the Rock ‘n RollMan Half Iron Triathlon in Macon.  Unfortunately, she injured her arm and has to stay off the bike for a while.  I’ve got plenty of training under my belt, and I would be riding anyway that day; therefore, I told her I would be glad to substitute for her in the relay.

The Rock ‘n RollMan was this past Saturday.  I met my teammates for the first time on Friday evening when we picked up our race packets at Lake Tobesofkee, the triathlon venue.  Renee was our swimmer, and Eleta was our runner.  Our team name was Here for the Beer – I knew I would like this team!

On Saturday morning I headed out from home at O dark thirty.  It was raining pretty hard, and there was even lightning as I got close to Lake Tobesofkee.  Having run a 5K in the rain two weeks before and ridden 134 miles at the edges of a hurricane the previous Saturday, I started to doubt my sanity.  Oh, well – Expect Adventure!


Swim, bike, run

The race was supposed to start at 7:30 AM, but it was delayed due to the weather.  By the time the swimmers finally did start sometime after 8:00, the rain had let up.  Eleta and I stood on the beach and watched Renee start the swim.


Then, I immediately moved to the transition area to wait for my leg to begin.

Renee had a strong swim, finishing the 1.25 miles in about 35 minutes.  She ran into the transition area and handed me our timing chip, which I attached to my ankle.  I ran out of the transition area to the bicycle mounting line and was off!


I was fairly familiar with the course.  Although I had never ridden the entire 56 miles all at once, I had ridden on just about every part of it during Peach Peloton and other rides in the area.  The first turn after leaving Sandy Beach Park was a few miles into the course.  I started to make the turn, but then the course marshals started yelling at me and the other racers, “Half go straight!  Half go straight!”  I was confused but thought I should listen to the marshals.  I figured maybe there was a last-minute course change due to the weather.  So, I continued straight rather than making the turn.  About a half mile later, a sheriff’s deputy was at the next intersection for traffic control.  I asked him if we were on the half course, but he didn’t respond; he just directed us to turn left.  Maybe a dozen other racers were around me.  I asked them if we were on the half course, but they were as uncertain as I was.  I told one guy, “I have a bad feeling about this.”  He responded, “Don’t say that!”  I even started to turn back at one point, but then I second-guessed myself again.

After a few miles, we approached a roundabout.  I asked the volunteers whether we were on the half course, but they just directed us around the roundabout.  When we made a left turn back onto Moseley Dixon Road, the road on which Sandy Beach Park is located, I knew for sure that I was on the wrong course.  Racer Number 94 passed me, and I said, “We’re screwed.”  He agreed.

I quickly assessed my options.  I could quit, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good, and I certainly didn’t want to let my teammates down.  A slow time was better than a DNF.  Of course, I was mad.  But what could I do?  Not much at that point except keep going.  I decided to get back on the correct course and ride my best.  Therefore, when I got back to the entrance to Sandy Beach Park, I pretended that I was just getting started.  I had ridden nine extra miles on the sprint tri course, but I felt good on the bike.  I would have to ride 65 miles total; I would simply treat it as a good, long, hard workout.  Maybe there would be some kind of time adjustment since so many of us were misdirected on the route.  Even if not, I put everything in perspective by thinking about all the girls in other parts of the world who can’t get an education because they have to walk nine miles every day to get water for their families.

This was the longest I had ever ridden on my TT bike, and I felt comfortable.  I started catching a number of other racers.  Obviously, most of them had already had to swim and still faced a run after the bike, but I knew I was performing well.  The course has some significant hills around Roberta, the turnaround point.  I’m a good hill climber and passed many people in that section.

Throughout most of the race, Number 94 and I kept passing each other.  Usually, I would pass him on the climbs, and then he would pass me on the downhills or straightaways.  Both of us were careful to follow the rules, not drafting, leaving at least three bike lengths between other racers, and passing within 15 seconds.  I knew that he was frustrated by the extra nine miles, too, and so I felt like we were comrades, encouraging each other along the way.

Based on my performance at the Red Clay Ramble in August (56 miles on mostly dirt in 2:57) and my performance in the last few state TT championships (22 miles in just under an hour), I thought I would do the Rock ‘n RollMan at about a 20 mph pace, giving me a time of a little under three hours.  That was exactly the pace I rode.  I was at 2:50 when I got to mile 56.  But of course I still had nine more miles to go!  That added nearly 30 more minutes.  Even so, I raced the total 65 miles very well for my abilities.

I rode as hard as I could all the way to the dismount line.  I hopped off my bike, ran into the transition area, hung my bike on the rack, and gave the timing chip to Eleta.  Run away!  Run away!


I spent several minutes gasping for breath, very thankful that I didn’t have to run.  Obviously, I would have had to pace myself quite differently if I were doing the whole triathlon by myself.  I’m glad I got to put all my effort into the cycling leg.

Number 94 ran out of the transition area a few minutes later.  Go cycling companion!

Renee wondered why it took me so much longer to finish than I had thought it would.  I explained about the extra nine miles.  We heard lots of other people talking about the same issue.

The skies had cleared, and Renee and I enjoyed a beautiful, warm fall afternoon as we waited for Eleta.  Renee and I cheered her the last few hundred feet across the finish line.  Eleta had a good run, finishing in 2:17, exactly what she had predicted.

It turns out that there was no time adjustment for those of us who did both the sprint bicycle course and the half bicycle course.  Here for the Beer just missed out on the trophies.  We came in fourth among the relay teams – only one minute behind the third place team!  Ack!  We would have been second if I hadn’t ridden the nine extra miles.  Too bad because the Rock ‘n RollMan trophies are extra cool – miniature electric guitars.  Despite the biking snafu, all three of us had fun and had a good race.


Every time I do any kind of race, I learn something.  This time I learned that race marshals don’t always know what’s going on.  I should have triple checked the course route, possibly even loading it into my bicycle computer.  In a nutshell, I should have listened to my instincts.  Most importantly, I was reminded simply to keep going – whether in cycling or in life.  I learned this best three years ago during my long recovery from my serious bicycle crash.

The best part of the Rock ‘n RollMan actually came the following day.  I had uploaded my race data to Strava.  Number 94 (Chris Hardbeck) found me on Strava, gave me kudos, and sent me a note.  It read, “I was about to take my helmet off and call it a day when you rolled up and started back out.  Got me going.  So, I owe you for that one!  Thx big time!”

Ride on!

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