The bike course in Brazil is pretty flat
with the exception of a few hills.
Us Clements have been blessed with claves (we call it calfitis) that
have abnormal wattage potential. I
am a solid cyclist on flat, but in reality, my strength lies in the climb. It would be the hills that gave way to
passing, and passing many. Pass the guy in the blue, pass Humberto,
pass the big guy in black. Hey
that guy’s name is Ricardo. Smile. Diane passes Ricardo and many others. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is not to say that
they didn’t come back and pass me on the flats, a few of them did, but I ate
the hills.
The water stations were set up every 5km or
so and you could get Gatorade and water.
The Gatorade was given in plastic Gatorade bottles (that you would buy
in a store) so they rattled around in your drink cage, and the water was given
in a tall, green “Gatorade” bottle.
These bottles would be used to fill up the aero bottle at the front of
the bike. The problem with these
bottles, was that the stream of water that came out (when any came out at all)
was minimal. It felt like you were
squeezing the water through a hole the size of a syringe. I squeezed, and squeezed, lifted and
adjusted the bottle, and squeezed 45 more times until my bottle was full. Really? Who thought that was ok?
The bike was going seemingly perfectly and
as I entered town for my second loop and heard, “Diaaaaaanee!” It was Karina cheering me on and I
loved the spirited scream. That
girl has lungs. I smiled and
cruised over a speed bump when my Nutella sandwich jumped out of my little
bento box taking my little bag of Advil and Amodium with it. Should I stop and get them. No. Don’t stop Diane. But the Advil? No Diane. I
was a little devastated with the loss of the sandwich, I am not going to lie,
but more with the loss of the Advil.
My knees started hurting early on in the bike and now knowing I didn’t
have any pain relief meds they really hurt. Totally psychological.
This was an unusual knee pain. It felt like there were bruises behind
my knee caps. Anyone? Buler? I
considered the height of my bike seat and thought for a second that maybe I
should get off and raise it. Don’t get
off your bike Diane. I have
become very good at listening to my race voice. In Cozumel this voice instructed me through the marathon
without a glitch, so I know it’s reliable. I didn’t get off the bike for the entire 180km but by the
end, my knees would be feeling a lot of wear. What if I didn’t put Advil in my bike-run transition bag? Will I ask people in the tent for
Advil. I am going to need something. What is this pain? What does this mean? (Imagine double rainbow video here)
Bike time: 5:53:32
Transition
2 (T2): Advil. Advil. OMG there’s Advil
in the bag.
I was more than delighted to find Advil in
the transition bag. Along with it,
two more gels, fresh socks, my shoes (Asics Kayano 18), a visor and compression
cuffs (for my calfitis). I got
myself all set and slopped some sunscreen on my shoulders for good
measure. Off I went, not knowing
what to do with these legs of mine.
I wanted to take an Advil right away. But where would the first water station be? I decided that washing the pill down
with a gel might have dire consequences so I held the little guy in my hand as
the sweet-sugary coating bled all over my hands. Where would the water station
be?
T2:
4:51
