This is my story and I'm sticking to it......

30 mile bike
4.5 mile run
1.1 mile swim
5.5 mile run
.5 mile swim
8 mile run
.5 mile swim
.7 mile run
51 miles total

Women 45-49 3/5
Women 16/43
Overall time: 6:22:18

This is the story of my experience with the 22nd annual Survival of
the Shawangunks triathlon that takes place in the Shawangunk mountain
range
in Ulster County, New York. It is a mountain range that juts
dramatically
up from the gentle rolling hills of New York State. Composed of
extremely
durable white conglomerate quartzose rock it is home to numerous
cliffs,
waterfalls, crystal pools, streams, and five natural glacial lakes
known as
"sky lakes". These lakes owe their existence to ice age glaciers
that moved
through the region 10,000 years ago. It is a lush green landscape amid
the
startling white cliffs and outcroppings. The Shawangunks are a
continuation
of Blue Mountain in Pennsylvania and Kittatinny in New Jersey. This is
the
breathtaking, unique setting for this one of a kind triathlon.
I was drawn to do this race not only because of the spectacular
natural beauty and extremely challenging course but also because of my
history and connection to this region. I first came there at 18 years
old
to attend the State University of New York at New Paltz. This began my
long
journey into adult hood and the adventures that would form my life.
The
initial connection I made there was so strong that my roots are still
strongly imbedded in this place. I eventually moved my mother there
and
later was married and gave birth to both my daughters there.
It was 17 years ago that I permanently moved to Chico, California.
I did not go back and visit for the first 7 years but since then have
been
back every year. In that time I have resumed, along with my brother
Gideon,
my love affair with the Shawangunks. I have rediscovered old haunts
and
discovered new ones in this 19,000 acre wonderland. I only heard about
this
race four years ago and the seed was planted in my mind that I must do
this
at least once in my life. This is my story…………………….
After a year of saving money and planning I took off on September
1st, 2007 to visit my family and participate in the race. I finally
arrived
in New York after a 15 hour delay and a harrowing experience on a plane
with
mechanical errors. Needless to say I arrived exhausted and dehydrated.
My
brother was waiting for me at my mother and step father's house. Even
though
I was in such a state I wanted to explore some of the race course with
my
brother the next day.
Our tradition when I go out to visit is to get up at the crack of dawn,
drive to Stewarts (like a 711), get coffee and hard rolls with butter
and
hit the trail, coffee in hand. We will cover many miles before we even
realize we are awake. The two of us have talked and traveled over the
Shawangunks together in this manner many times. This time we had the
intention of covering parts of the route of the race and so we did. We
hiked the first two run legs, viewing Lake Awosting (the first swim
lake) on
the way and speculated where I might be getting in the water. Then we
were
on to the second lake (Minnewaska) which I wanted to try out that day
with
my dry bag and shoes. I decided I would actually swim the length, a
mere .5
miles to the other side with my shoes strapped to my back in a dry bag
while
my brother hiked to the other side to meet me.
I had known that they had rules about swimming in undesignated areas
but I
usually swam at Lake Awosting which is less frequented and I usually
swam
during non life guard hours.
Feeling good I hit the water and embarked on my swim. It was
beautiful,
cold, clear, and deep. I was pleased that my dry bag was working. As
I
made my way across the lake I got the feeling I shouldn't be out
there. I
felt nervous but I kept going. When I was nearing the opposite shore I
looked up to see a life guard paddling out to me on a board. Then I
saw how
angry he was. He was yelling at me that I shouldn't be out there. I
told
him I realized that and was working on getting out. This made him
angrier.
I apologized telling him that I truly realized I shouldn't be doing
it. He
proceeded to grill me about how I got there and hadn't I seen the
signs. I
told him I'd hiked there from 10 miles away around the back of the
lake and
that is why I hadn't seen the signs. He got angrier and asked if I
wasn't
from around there. I told him I was there from California. He finally
gave
up and just let me get out. I sheepishly got out of the water to a
beach of
spectators to wait for my brother. One nice woman told me I was a good
swimmer and that her daughter was learning.
OK…I had hiked two legs and swam one lake of the race. I felt more
secure
about the race now 6 days away. My brother went back to the city to
work.
I knew I needed to lay low and rest and re-hydrate and that is what I
did
having a nice relaxed visit with my mother, step dad and a close
friend. I
also needed to get my rental bike together. I had brought my seat,
aero
bars, pedals, and race wheels with me. I was able to rent a good road
bike
from Billy Denter from Overlook Mountain bikes in Woodstock, New York.
He
helped me with getting the bike together and breaking it down and
repacking
my parts when I left. Mike Trowbridge from North Rim helped me on
this end of things. Now I just had to deal with the endless
butterflies in my stomach.
My brother arrived the night before the race to attend the mandatory
pre-race meeting with me. I was starting to get excited now. The
meeting
was great. They had photos from previous years, maps, profiles of
elevations, even underwater schematics of the lakes. They had a great
slide
show and a pasta feed to get us ready. I got all my dangling questions
answered, for instance, I still wasn't sure how the bike to run
transition
was supposed to happen. As I discovered, your crew person (my brother)
meets you on the road where you hand off your bike to them. They then
lead
you to the spot where your swim and run gear would be. They take care
of
your bike and meet you at the end, choosing where they might want to
see you
along the race route.
It was time to go home and make sure all my gear was together. I
needed to
show Gideon how to lay out my stuff and give him everything I needed.
This
done, it was time for bed. I went to sleep with the sound of heavy
rain,
thunder, and lightning. This had me worried as they can either call
off the
race or eliminate the swim portion which would mean that all 18.7 miles
of
the run would be strung together. I had, however, mentally and
physically
prepared myself for this possibility. More than that though I wanted
to do
the race as it was intended.
RACE MORNING: I woke before the alarm to fog and lightning. I did all
my
pre-race preparation and drove to the race start. Gideon would drive
with my
swim/run gear to the transition area to Lake Awosting. This is where I
would hand him the bike. I was the first racer to arrive…a
testament to my
jittery nerves! I got numbered and prepared my gear as more and more
racers
arrived. It was no longer raining, the fog lifting but it was
extremely
warm and humid. I checked everything on my bike and took it for a warm
up
ride. Having a bike start is certainly different from the average
triathlon.
It was time to get in our wave groups…mine being the women 40plus.
There
were about 12 of us the oldest being 59 (who kicked my ass by the
way!). As
we waited I got to know my competitors a bit…one of whom said
"Let's show
them what menopause can do!" We all laughed.
7:05 am: We are off! Out onto the wet roads, past sunflowers, and
farms.
One thing I had not considered was how fogged up my glasses would get.
I am
used to being blind so I pressed on. The 40plus guys were behind us
and
eventually a few overtook us in an unruly pack of drafters who crossed
the
double yellow line and continued drafting. I just shook my head as I
was
determined to ride well and not break the rules. Bad news! My bike bag
was
falling off. I stopped briefly pulled it off and stuck it in the back
of my
shorts. Bummer- oh well. Glich #1. I knew I was nearing a dangerous
stretch of the ride, a very steep downhill with sharp turns. It
actually
went right by the house my oldest daughter was born in 21 years ago! I
did
fine on the hill taking it slow but not too slow. Relieved that this
stretch was over I powered into the next slightly rolling section. I
had
given my brother an approximate arrival time on the bike (8:35am). I
figured about an hour and a half. I was right on schedule. However,
the
humidity was already working on me. I had trouble breathing and was
drenched with sweat. I kept drinking. Things were still going well
though
and I was looking forward to the "climb".
About three miles before I got there someone crashed as a car pulled
out in
front of them. I came by as the emergency vehicles were arriving. I
found
out later he was OK. He suffered from a separated shoulder. I get to
the
hill portion. In true form I am cruising past my competitors, leaving
others behind, I am feeling good. A larger man with an Australian
accent
passed me on a little flat section telling me he had to take advantage
of
that before I passed him again and then psssssssst…air escaping from
my rear
tire!! The dreaded flat tire! My achilles heel! I saw again the
error of
my lazy ways….me practice changing a tire quickly? No, I am too busy
for
that! Glich #2. Ok, I knew I only had two more miles to go. I
reached
into the archives in my brain of Preben training and the day he had me
ride
up Neal road on a flat popped into my head. I knew it would take me
longer
to fix the flat than to keep going. Now I am really sweating, I am
really
slowing down, my legs and back are feeling the strain as I work to keep
the
bike going as my rear wheel slips and slides along the wet road. I am
thinking that this race hasn't even begun yet. This is the easy
part…how am
I going to make it? People were cheering me on. Needing to keep my
pride
in tact I have to tell them I have a flat. That evokes admiration. Ok
I
feel better now. I know my brother is worrying now as the minutes tick
away. Two miles can seem so long. All right I make it! I hand the
bike
off to my brother and tell him my story. I am feeling dehydrated
already
but am relieved to be off the bike. My legs are already tired and
feeling
like they want to cramp. I get my running shoes on, drink, take some e
caps, grab my swim gear and take off. It feels strange because this
transition is so different than any others I have done. I don't have
any
glasses on and everything is really blurry. Out on the course when I
come
across a directional sign I have to go right up to it to read it!! I
shake
it all off and start running. I smile. Ahhhh…I feel good, the sun is
coming
out a bit. I know now that we will be allowed to swim. The Lake
Awosting
carriageway that I am running on travels through lush mountain forest,
by
flowers, and streams. There is a hint of the blazing fall colors that
will
soon cover the land in New York.
I am on to Glich #3…I should have eaten more or had a gu with me
because I
am hungry and know I won't get anything until after the 1.1 mile
swim.
Thoughts of how am I going to make it plague me again. Three and a
half
miles into the first run is Heart Attack Hill..a hill that makes ALL
the
runners walk. Then it is a mile and a half winding around Lake
Awosting to
the first swim start. There it is, a gorgeous long finger of a lake
nestled
in the rocks and forest. My low back is feeling like it wants to sieze
up.
OK..I make it to the lake. Now I will see if my plan will really work.
I
pull my cap, goggles, and ear plugs out of my dry bag and put them on.
I
take my shoes and socks off and put them in the bag securing it. I
stick
the bag into the back of my shorts and wrap my race belt around my
waist,
holding it all in place. I know my back and legs are not feeling so
good so
I get in the water carefully. The water is cold (72 degrees), but not
bad
and I start to swim. After so much sweating it feels good to be in the
water cooling off. I am swimming well but as in every leg of this race
I am
keeping a good pace with out over exerting myself. About half way into
the
swim my back starts to feel tight and I get that familiar curling in my
toes
on my right foot. I worry a bit, I don't feel good. I let my legs
drag
stretching out my heel on my cramping foot and leg and keep going. I
look
up occasionally to see how far I have to go. The cramping moves up
into my
quads, hamstrings, and hips. My strokes are getting really sloppy as I
struggle to shore. I finally get there and drag myself out. Now I have
to
get my shoes back on. I take my shoes and socks out of the bag…they
are
dry! I put my swim gear in the bag , roll it up and strap it on my
waist.
Before I put my shoes on I drink and eat at the aid station. I know it
is
already too late to re-hydrate but I hope I can at least maintain.
They
have e caps at the aid stations and I am grateful. I make the mistake
of
sitting down to put my shoes on. The cramping is so bad that it takes
every
ounce of my strength and focus just to stand up again. The
photographer
keeps taking pictures of me. I guess I did look pretty dramatic and
people
were wondering if I'd make it. After standing and getting pressure
on my
feet I took off for my next run.
This one would be 5.5 miles with elevation gain. We ran up over
Castle
Point which has spectacular views. Surprisingly I feel great and have
an
enjoyable run, cruising up the hills, passing people along the way.
This is
the Gaby I know! There is one aid station on this run and I take full
advantage of it. I know I must keep fed and hydrated. OK…down to
the next
lake (Minnewaska). I execute my transition and get in. The same
scenario
replays itself. I have an even more traumatic exit on this one. The
calf
cramp I have is the kind that brings tears and cries for help. A
volunteer
comes over and massages my leg.
They bring me hot tea. What great volunteers. My brother is at this
transition. He is taking pictures and has a worried look on his face.
I am
finally able to stand. I know this is all taking a toll on me. Again
the
thoughts of failure are haunting me. I have a long way to go and one
more
lake to swim. Me, the swimmer, afraid to get back in the water!
8 mile run now. I am relieved to be back on my feet and as with the
other
times, I am cruising. First we have to run down this steep hill. That
was
hard but after that it flattened out. We ran into a heavily wooded
section
with the creek running along side and the sound of waterfalls. It was
very
hot by this point. I have a watch on but refuse to look at it. I
don't
want anything else screwing with my already troubled mind. We are on
the
Trapp's trail which is home to world famous rock climbing cliffs. As
I run
by there are numerous rock climbers along the way. I am beginning to
think
I will make it but I am dreading that last swim. I get to mile 7 of
the run
and am greeted by an aid station and the words…"Welcome to
Godzilla". This
last mile to the lake is uphill. I am able to keep running and have a
nice
cruise to Lake Mohonk. This lake is a small jewell surrounded by the
towering Mohonk Hotel and even more towering sheer white cliffs. It is
very
impressive.
I am feeling good when I get into the lake. I am feeling better this
time.
No cramping so far, I am breathing deeply into my low back and legs,
letting
my legs completely relax and dragging them behind me. I am feeling
confident but a smooth exit from the lake is not to be. In the last
100
yards I cramp again. You must climb out of this lake by grabbing onto
rocks
and pulling yourself up. I can't do it. Every time I try to pull my
leg up
it completely seizes up. I only have ¾ of a mile to go….all I need
to do is
get out of the lake! A few people are watching me wondering if I'll
make
it. When I make it to the first ledge they cheer. I still have more
climbing and I have to steady myself. I grasp at plants and parts of
the
rocks to try and pull myself up. I am still in pain as every movement
starts more cramping. After what seems like forever I finally make it.
I
hear sighs of relief all around. An EMT has been watching me. I
won't sit
down this time to put my shoes on. I forgo the socks this time jamming
my
feet into my shoes. I don't care if they are all the way on. As
soon as I
start moving I feel fine.
I sprint up this ¾ mile steep winding hill walking once to get over
some
rock steps (I am afraid of cramping again). Only 100 yards to go to
the
Survivor Line and I have a strong finish. I finally look at my watch
and am
glad to see I stayed in my target range of 6-7 hours. My brother is
there,
we hug. He gets me to look out at the incredible views which on a
clear day
we would be able to see 6 states! I cry a bit at this point. I did
it!!
Volunteers come to me to get my timing chip off…I am probably the
only
person there who duck taped it on! They drape me in a big SOS towel.
I am
so relieved and happy, feeling the emotion of having completed this
race
which from the beginning had me questioning my ability to finish. I
truly
understand why they call it survival.
Meanwhile, my family and friends are gathering at the area by the
Mohonk
Hotel that overlooks the lake. I finally trek over there to meet them.
There we have a great feast waiting for us. There are tables and
tables of
food and drink. We talk and share stories. It is especially
meaningful to
have my mom there as she had suffered a massive stroke years earlier
and is
in a wheel chair. I tell her and my step dad that they are the true
survivors. A long time family friend Kim is there too. She is a
working
artist born with cerebral palsy, another true survivor. I fell humbled
,
grateful, washed clean by this experience. I learn that I placed third
in
my age group only 8 seconds behind second place. Awards are given out.
Times are impressive and I feel proud to be part of this and I even get
to
stand on the podium wearing my Chico Women's Triathlon Jersey.
The feeling of camaraderie and the sense of this local community of
which I
have such close ties is heart warming. People are honored, remembered,
and
loved. It is time to go home and so I do, never to forget this. My
friend
Bill who first told me about this race when he was my mother's
occupational
therapist looked at me and said "You may not think it now, but
you'll be
back." I believe him.