RACE REPORT: Tri Atlantic City - International Distance

This was a "destination" race, meaning we drove to it and stayed over.

THE LOCATION

I'd never been to Atlantic City and found it by turns mesmerizing, baffling and depressing. A line of massive casino hotel towers looms behind a sprawl of up-scale shops and run down apartments. Two blocks from the JCrew and Urban Outfitter's glossy windows are dim streets lined with pawn shops, check cashing establishments and neon signs advertising the services of bail bondsmen.

I could only vaguely picture what the city might have been like in its heyday, something tacky but grand, hazy with cigar smoke and the encouraging blip-bloops of slot machines. But AC has been in steady decline for decades, and with plenty of gambling and beach access now available elsewhere, the decline is snowballing. Three of it's best known casinos are shuttering up just this month (read a NY Times article on that here). 

Nevertheless, it would be wrong to say Atlantic City is ugly. Though the boardwalk seems to want to be

bigger and splashier than all others, as if it would challenge Cape May or Asbury Park to an arm wrestle if it could, the beaches and dunes are quite lovely. The boardwalk manages to stand back enough that one could, conceivably, enjoy a nice picnic on the sand without feeling oppressed by the bright lights and clatter. I didn't get to do this, but it seemed possible.

Diane and I arrived at Bader Field on Saturday at 3:45pm, in time to rack my bike and hit the race meeting at 4. The light mist that had tingled through the air when we arrived was rapidly shifting to solid rain. The USAT official sped through her spiel as the clouds darkened and heavy drops began to cascade down. When the race director asked if there were any questions, we were all like students waiting for the bell to ring to signal the end of class. We held our breath hoping no one would raise their hand, then after a moment's silence we scattered to our cars.

Diane and I met up with my training buddy, Maria, at a Mexican taqueria called Panchos, that I'd found on

Panchos Food

Yelp (you can read the Yelp review here). I insisted that the food would be terrific and there would be vegetarian options. Those things turned out to be true, if by "terrific" you mean good, and by "options" you mean five possible menu items. It was the quintessential hole-in-the-wall mom and pop business. Food was served on TV dinner style plastic trays and the proprietor seemed to think I was being ridiculous when I asked for some tortilla chips and salsa. We had to bus the previous diners' plates and plastic ware off our table, and by "table" I mean rickety card table. Nevertheless, I had about the best steak burrito I've ever had, and Maria, who grew up in Nogales, AZ on the border of Mexico, vouched for the authenticity of the meal.

After our early dinner, Diane and I retreated to our room at The Chelsea, which bills itself as a "boutique hotel" and is the only non-casino hotel on the strip. Again, one needs to reconceive the terms here to make sense of it. Boutique, which I usually take to mean "small and stylish," in this case denotes enormous neon purple and pink signage out front, faux marble Greco-Roman inspired tables next to velvet draped chairs in the main entry, and rooms with sparkly ceilings and dim lighting. Valet parking was enthusiastic and the receptionist who checked us in gave us a little triathlon gift bag with an Granny Smith apple and a bottle of Poland Spring water in it. I'd feel guilty for mentioning the fact that there was a clump of hair in our sink and a squeezed out tube of toothpaste in our trash can when we arrived, but everyone else has already ratted out The Chelsea in vivid terms on Yelp and Trip Advisor (read reviews here).

We had planned to head out and explore the city after check in, which is part of the fun of a destination race, but by that point the rain was coming down in sheets. Instead we tried to settle down and read in the room's whacky mood lighting. The mirrors, which were warped to funhouse proportions, were back lit like the ones in a Broadway dressing room, and the only other lighting consisted of two parrot shaped ceramic lamps on the bedside tables. These contained what seemed to be 20 watt bulbs. We gathered our iPads and flopped down on the ominously squishy beds. An unbidden memory rose from my subconscious, a memory of a scene from the TV show CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, where the coroner tells Grissom that a person has died in every hotel room in Las Vegas. I gulped, noting Las Vegas is just a much bigger version of Atlantic City (check out the CSI schedule here -- there are reruns on SpikeTV)

And then the noise started up. Police sirens blared, cutting the night with their piercing wails. Every five minutes or so we'd hear more sirens. It carried on like this for more than two hours. We worried we'd landed in the most crime ridden city in America. I peaked out the blinds at intervals, expecting to see purse snatchers being run down by motorcycle cops, or maybe a riot. At one point Diane turned to me and said in a tense whisper: "is it possible that Al Qaeda has a secret cell in Atlantic City?"

Later, huddling under the bed covers, too alert to fall sleep, I posted about the endless sirens on

Miss America Shoes Parade - 2014

Facebook. A friend who attended Tri AC last year responded immediately to let me know that the Miss America pageant was going on this weekend, and they had had their annual "Shoes Parade" that day. During the parade the contestants ride in fancy convertibles, flanked by marching bands, past thousands of onlookers who scream "Show us your shoes!" to which the young women apparently oblige by dangling their feet over the windscreens to demonstrate the latest in misogynist fashions. Afterward, my Facebook friend explained, each of the 53 contestants --representing the 50 states plus Puerto Rico and the US territories-- gets a police escort back to their hotel, hence the sirens.

As explanations go, I don't know what to make of this. I fell asleep worrying about how many hard core shoe fetishists were lurking in the streets below our window, and wondering if the police escorts were needed to protect the 53 nubile beauties from being assaulted on the way to their hotel, or if they were just there to make the 52 soon-to-be losers feel important for a day.

THE RACE START

Transition area at Tri Atlantic City. 
This was a HUGE event with more than 1,200 participants.

I got up at 5, ate a peanut butter sandwich I'd brought with me, downed half a diet coke (no time for coffee) and went down stairs to wait for Maria to pick me up.

I watched out the glass facade as two girls with big boufy hair, each wearing a short cut sequined dress, stumbled barefooted up the hotel steps (I dare not think what happened to their shoes). They saw the revolving door and simply collapsed, apparently unwilling to tangle with it. They slumped on the top step, and one freshened her lipstick using a compact mirror. The other held a fresh cocktail, of what looked like whiskey sour, in a tall glass slick with condensation. A few moments later, two male counterparts showed up, shiny silver sports coats flung over their shoulders. They were laughing loudly, and I heard the word "tits" shouted a few times.

The all-night revelers stood in contrast to the determined looking athletes sliding past them, heading to the race. Spandex and gatorade meets sequins and booze.

It took Maria and I a half an hour to cover the one mile distance to the race venue. There was an impenetrable traffic snarl entering the parking area at Bader Field, and it backed everything up for a half mile in each direction. By the time we finally got there, we had only a few minutes before transition was to close and neither of us had set up our gear.

Maria needed to hit the port-o-potties, so I took her pack and mine and dashed for transition. I set up my gear in its careful square foot of real estate, then saw Maria still hadn't made it back. The race officials were calling a two minute warning, so I hustled to Maria's spot and tried to get her gear set up in a logical manner. I grabbed our caps and goggles and dashed out as the gates were closing behind me.

Though we were reassured that the water temperature was 74, the air was a cool 58 degrees and most of the participants were lined up at the start in wet suits. Maria and I decided against the unnecessary gear, but it made for a chilly wait for the race start. We stood for the national anthem and then watched the para-triathletes complete their swim loop. Those athletes were truly inspiring; watching them put all my own concerns about race performance in perspective.

As with my last race, at Six Flags, we followed a time trial rather than wave start at Atlantic City. Meaning, we seeded ourselves roughly, according to perceived ability, and got in the water one by one. Our timing chip bracelet was activated as we stepped over the mat at the inlet's edge.

THE SWIM

The water was warm and might have been pleasant if not for the fact that it was low tide. We slid off the dock into eighteen inches of water and two feet of black mud. I saw others walking through the glop looking for deeper water before starting to swim, but it was shallow pretty far out. I started swimming almost immediately, as wading in the muck seemed like a waste of energy. I was immediately coated in a layer of black silt and could feel bits of vegetation slithering into my kit, but there was nothing to do but press on.

The swim course described a straight forward rectangle, but I found it surprisingly difficult to site the buoys. I can't say the course was poorly marked, but there was considerable distance between buoys and I found myself wandering off course repeatedly. Partly I think this was because I was changing position a lot to avoid slamming into other people

The international distance had over 500 participants, so there was a lot of contact in the water. Early on I was kicked hard in the sternum by some guy doing a butterfly kick with a breast stroke paddle. I figured things would thin out quickly, but found myself banged into and banging into others straight to the end. Extremely poor visibility in the water contributed to this. The water was pitch black with churned mud and I couldn't see the bodies of swimmers less then a foot or two to either side of me.

By nature I enjoy swimming, consider myself at home in the water, and will happily swim for considerable distances, but I haven't been doing masters swim training these last two months and I could feel it. In my sprint races this summer I have been able to maintain a steady clip in the water, keeping me in the top 10% of female finishers in all my events. But a sprint swim is only 500 meters, the equivalent of 10 laps down and back in a pool. The international swim is 1,500 meters, and you just can't fake that.

I finished the swim 8th out of 22 in my age group, which is not terrible, but well below my abilities. It was more than ten minutes slower than my time for the same distance at the Bassman 1/2 iron relay back in May. My diminished conditioning became more apparent with the dull ache that started up in my lower back about two thirds of the way through. Then I got water deep in my right ear. That pain was enough that I had to breathe almost entirely to the left, not my preferred side. The swim was slow going.

THE BIKE

Leonardo, my Bianchi cyclocross, better known
as "The Italian Stallion." And my one square
foot of transition real estate. Poor Leo got
very wet ever night, and the chain was squeaky
during the ride. 

I moved with purpose, but didn't hammer through transition. It was too chaotic in there to do so, too much gear, too many people. I put on my bike shirt, sunglasses and bike gloves. The latter two things I would normally leave behind for the sprint distance but didn't want to do without over 20 miles. 

The bike course was along the Atlantic City expressway. Other than the on and off ramps at both ends of the course, it was perfectly flat. There were some views of marsh lands and the city in the distance, but I'd be hard pressed to call the ride scenic. The right hand lane was coned off for us, but busses rattled by at 65mph one lane over, and twice we had to pass through the EZ pass toll area where exhaust fumes from idling cars hovered in a thick cloud. 

I had been warned that the bike course was windy, and that proved true. Heading west we faced a firm headwind, east we had the wind at our backs. In theory this would mean if one maintained the same effort throughout, one could make a good time average. But in trying not to kill myself going into the wind, hoping to save my legs for the run, I ended up with a slow 16.7 mph bike average overall. To put this in perspective, I have averaged 18+ on other windy courses this season. 

THE RUN

Finished my first International triathlon and loved it.

Because runs have been my bugaboo of late, I had deliberately worked to avoid over exertion on the bike. I may have overdone it a little, going slower than need be, but I was glad to find I had ample strength left in my legs for the run.

The run was by far the most visually interesting portion of the race, as most of it went along the famous AC boardwalk. Jumbo screens above the street lamps flashed pictures of the Miss America contestants, passers by licked ice cream cones despite the early hour, old ladies pedaled by on pastel colored beach cruisers. There was so much to look at. 

I found a steady stride and held it for the first three miles.

At the three mile mark I saw Diane cheering and waving a cup of coffee at me. She called out encouragement, promising me a nice iced caramel mochiato at the finish. This prompted me to pick up the pace for the final two miles. A little further on two homeless guys, who were smoking e-cigarettes, started trotting along side me saying "Oh, yeah, girl! You got it! You gonna do it!" That probably also inspired me to hustle. 

My finish time goal had been under three hours, and I cut it a little fine: 2:59:49. I left myself eleven seconds to spare. Still, I crossed the line in top spirits. I could have gone harder, and now that I know that, I have a better sense of how much I can push on my next olympic distance. 

BEST BITS

My jersey got many compliments.
I will wear it more often. 

My favorite things about this race were, in no particular order:

• I love trying new things and Atlantic City was a pleasing combination of weird locale with well organized race. 
• It was great to have Diane with me.
• Many of my sisters from the Jersey Girls Stay Strong Multisport club were there (find out more about them here), and cheered for me despite the fact that I didn't wear the pink team jersey ("magenta" I am told). I wasn't trying to be a diva, but I don't feel like myself in magenta. I announced ahead of time, on Facebook, that I'd be wearing my Rosie the Riveter "We Can Do It!" jersey instead, hoping that represented the right team spirit. Many many Jersey Girls gave me warm cheers during my race and I appreciated that so much. I had a great time cheering for them, too, and got to meet up with many of them in the JGSSM tent afterward.
• Though I had a lot of training setbacks in the last few months, this race was a testament to the work of my coach, Chris. When we first began working together, I told him my next goal was to step up from sprint to olympic/international distance, and that I wanted to cross the finish not by any means necessary, but feeling strong. I did that. He kept me focussed and my workouts balanced, even when the workouts weren't plentiful. 
• I got to team back up with Maria, who also finished strong, rebounding from a demoralizing month spent battling a bronchial infection. Go Team Hard Core! 

EVALUATION OF THE EVENT = A- 

Tri AC was my seventh triathlon this season, eleventh overall (I've been at this for two years now). I've participated in events run by big corporate groups like CGI, which puts on the NJ State triathlon, small local outfits like Split Second and DQ, and mid-tier companies like CityTri. This was my first Delmo Sports event and it was pretty good. 

Pros:

• Swim course buoys could have been more plentiful, but all parts of the course were clearly marked.
• Volunteers and course support were strong -- from packet pick up to water stations and everything in between. Special props to the dude who hauled me back up onto the dock at the end of the swim.
• Transition security was very good. I've been to races where anyone could have wandered off with thousands of dollars in beautiful bikes, and though my own bike isn't worth a million dollars, it is to me. I was glad Leonardo was in good hands. 
• The event website is good looking and well maintained and the event packet really did answer all the questions (note: I had trouble printing out the parking pass, which it turned out I didn't need anyway). 
• Results were posted in a timely manner and were available at the finish.
• The event was paired up with the Seafood Festival, which I didn't visit, but which seemed like it could have been fun for family and friends, since triathlon isn't the greatest spectator sport. 
• The athlete food tent had one of the best spreads I've ever seen at a race (including not only triathlons but also the many half-marathons and other events I've been to): 
• bacon, eggs and sausage (fresh, too, not runny and rubbery) 
• bagels with lots of different spreads 
• boxes of danish and muffins and perfectly salty pretzels
• seriously amazing doughnuts (I cannot emphasize enough how good these doughnuts were)
• I haven't seen them yet, but the race photos are free, and that's a great perk.
• Atlantic City was weird, but I think it probably appealed more to people with a different sensibility than my own. It was definitely interesting. 
• The event organizer, Stephen Del Monte (read more about him here), was patient with things like a sound system that caused his mic to go in and out, and was very much hands on. Moreover, he has a good sense of humor. Many race directors are oddly low energy and not very gregarious. It was clear he had heard feedback from previous races and worked hard to address it. There had been complaints about markings on the bike course in previous years, and it was perfectly marked this time out. 
• The event is growing and the addition of a swim only and a paddle board event indicated that Del Monte is following the trends of his target market. 
• The para-triathlete competition was tremendous. I honestly choked up a little seeing those guys do their swim. I can only hope it grows in size. 

Cons:

• The fitness "expo" on Saturday was weak. Not much there. 
• The race medals were substantial, but last year's ones that looked like big poker chips were cooler looking. A minor quibble, I realize.
• The USAT officials were doing their job on the course, but the lady who went over the rules at the pre-race meeting was very focussed on how bad behavior would be punished, without setting an encouraging expectation for good behavior. At some races people are conscientious about saying "on your left" when passing and just being polite overall; here I heard almost no one saying "on your left" and there was some aggressive drafting and passing behavior on the bike course. I wonder if a few reminders about sportsmanship might have helped. 
• The event day parking situation was a mess and delayed many people trying to get into transition to set up. 
• Sounded like there were plenty of port-o-potties but with an event of this size --more than 1,500 participants plus support personnel-- the lines were still long. 
• The room rates at the hotel were pretty high given it isn't a top tier establishment ($287 for a double queen room), nor was it a very easy walk from the hotel to the venue. It made more sense to drive, but that made the parking problem worse. I wouldn't stay here again.
• The noise from the shoe parade was awful...but I am not holding that against DelMo Sports. 

THE TAKE AWAYS:

Would I do a DelMo Sports event again? Absolutely. This is a well run outfit. 

For me as an athlete, I learned what the international distance feels like in my body, and realized that I could have given more on the course. This may be my last triathlon of the season, and I felt like it capped things off nicely. I learned a lot and know where I want to start next season.