The lake looked really intimidating. There was wind and rain, and looking across the lake there were fog-covered hills in the distance. There were circular buoys leading up to the triangular one which was the first corner of the triangle-shaped course, and I could see the circular ones trail off into the distance but not the triangular one. In the fog and chop, it was too far away to see.

There must have been around 60 people, all males 40 and over, in my wave. Since I'm a slow swimmer, I lined up on the outside and in the back. There was a bit of contact in the beginning but not bad at all. I think I only kicked one person in the chest...

I breaststroked almost the whole way. I felt strong and smooth though, and my energy level was high the whole way. But I can't help but envy the swimmers that freestyle so fast and make it look effortless. The chop didn't bother me too much, although it was slower heading out than coming back where every now and then I would catch a wave and ride it.

My wave had green caps on, and the wave ahead was blue - those were the elites and men 39 and under. The wave after was bright green, all the females and first timers. A few fast (3 or 4) bright-green caps passed me around the first turn buoy, and every now and then I would pass someone resting or backstroking, mostly blue caps. I would also pass someone doing a slow forward crawl every now and then as well. I thought I was behind probably 3/4 of the swimmers on my wave.

At the turn buoys I assessed my condition and it was all systems go, so I kept going. At no point I felt particularly tired, and was really excited to get near the beach again and hear the music and the announcer. I got out of the water, didn't feel dizzy at all as I did sometimes in training, stood up and started jogging to transition. I was happy that my weakest event was over.

I expected my swim time to be 50-60 minutes based on what I had done in training. I didn't know how fast this went until after the race, but I had a feeling that I beat my goal. It ended up being 47:02, which I was very happy with, but still, squarely BOP.

Learn proper swim technique! Practice more.

I unzipped my wetsuit and had it down to my waist by the time I reached my transition spot. I also had my cap and goggles in my hand. I took the suit off the rest of the way, stuck it in a bag, took a quick sip of gatorade, put on socks, shoes (which were not clipped on the bike, I don't have that skill yet), shirt and helmet, a quick bike check to make sure my 2 gels (taped on handlebar), accelerade bottle, and garmin were on there. Together with a volunteer I shoved everything I didn't need in a garbage bag marked with my name and number, since they had to clear out the transition area once all the swimmers were done. Grabbed the bike and jogged out to the mount line.

Not much. I suppose I could learn how to clip shoes on the bike and do a running start, but they're not at the top of my priority list.

Once I got on the bike, I clipped in fairly quickly, and off I went. At least the course started with a downhill segment which let me get comfortable on the bike and build some speed. I rode the course once, 2 weeks prior to the race, and I was prepared for what was ahead, a tough gruelling bike segment with lots of hills and, today, rain to boot. The roads were slippery and I had to slow way down in every corner to avoid skidding - and still almost went off the road on a couple of occasions.

On various segments of the course I found riders that were going at my approximate speed and paced off of them. But for the most part I was riding alone in the rain, with just my thoughts to keep me company.

Every now and then, I would become concerned that I was putting too much effort in biking and it would cost me on the run. This would cause me to scale back a bit, but it seems my legs have their own mind about how fast they want to go. Mostly I just rolled with that.

There was one unmarked split on the road 5-6 miles from the start, where I followed riders ahead of me, which guessed wrong. Then we all ended up in someone's driveway, and turned around. This cost us around 2 minutes. This was minor annoyance #1 out of 3 on the bike.

Besides the unmarked split, the course was well marked, with volunteers and police at key places (which I thanked every time I passed them). This helped because there were many turns in the first 10 miles as well as the last few miles of the course.

For the first 10-12 miles or so, I had a pretty good recollection of the course from my practice ride, and wasn't surprised by the hills. I managed to maintain an average speed of 17mph while keeping my heart rate under check, which I was happy with. I think in that segment I was passed by 2 riders and I must have passed 5-6 - but mostly, the ride was lonely. Not too many cars on the streets, and no spectators at all.

Around mile 19, we approached Frenchtown. We were warned about this, since it's a steep decline, right into the middle of a town with traffic, a traffic light and a sharp left turn. As I was getting to the bottom of the hill and started to hit the brakes to slow down, I saw a fellow cyclist that seemed to have crashed hard into a tree. He was walking around a bit dazed and the bike seemed wrecked. I told a volunteer about him, and he said they were already getting him help.

Around mile 20 I started looking for an aid station. There were supposed to be 2, at miles 20 and 40. I didn't need anything at mile 20 (maybe I would have taken a gel), but I wanted to see how it was set up because I would most likely need a new bottle at mile 40, since I only had one bottle with me and was drinking frequently. If there was an aid station, I missed it (and started to get concerned about whether there'd be one at 40 miles - this would affect my nutrition). Minor bike annoyance #2 (of 3).

After Frenchtown came the most normal part of the course - 12 miles on Rt 29 along the Delaware river, mostly flat or smooth rolling hills on pretty decent surface. I tried to relax at a comfortable pace here because I knew the later bike stages would be tough, so I mostly kept the pace at a comfortable 18.5-19mph.

After turning off Rt 29, I had expected a turn onto Lower Creek Road which would eventually lead to the covered bridge - something really cool and scenic, which I had done on my practice ride and was promoted on the main page of the event. For some reason, that part of the course changed, and insted of turning onto Lower Creek Road, signs directed us to go straight (and onto a MAJOR uphill!). I got concerned here because I was sure that's not how the course was originally and I started thinking I misread the sign... but then I saw more signs which confirmed I was on course. But no covered bridge, and no explanation about the course change. Anyway, move along - this was minor annoyance #3.

I had started to reduce my drinking a bit because I didn't want to run out of fluids, not really knowing if an aid station was coming up or not. However, a bit past mile 40, there was the aid station. I exchanged my almost-empty bottle of accelerade with one of water and a gel, and happily moved along towards the very hilly last part of the bike course.

The start of the bike course seemed a bit easier than I remembered from my practice ride. The end of the course was the exact opposite - tougher. The toughest hill of the ride was with just 3 miles to go on (I think) Valley Crest Road. I hadn't seen anyone walking the bikes on any other part of the course, but right there I must have passed at least 5 riders walking their bikes up the hill. I didn't walk, but I'd be lying if I said that the hill didn't tire my legs...

A couple of miles before the big hill, I was caught and passed by 2 serious-looking girls who seemed very intent on leapfrogging eachother. I got on the leapfrogging game too. From there until the end, I would pass them on the hills and they would pass me on the flats. I finished the bike leg between the 2 of them. The final hilly section took its toll on my average speed, which fell to 16.5 mph.

An interesting first for me - I felt the urge to, um, go to the bathroom, several times on the bike. I'm sure this was the combination of the cold and wet weather and that I was constantly drinking, since I didn't want to fall behind on my nutrition, even though I wasn't very thirsty. Every time, I stood up and (making sure nobody was behind me) let it fly. It felt weird and a bit liberating! These were the only times I was glad it was raining.

Approaching T2, I was happy to get off the bike. I was even tempted to try a flying dismount but I decided against the possibility of embarassing myself.

Practice hills.

Quickly racked my bike, looked for my gatorade bottle which I didn't find since I had left it at T1 (separate transition areas - doh) - so I took 2 endurolites with water instead. I had my run shoes and socks double-bagged to stay dry and it felt good to put them on. Helmet off, cap, race belt and fuel belt (with 2 bottles, one concentrated accelerade, one water) on, and off I go.

Nothing.

It felt good to start running. I started off confident, knowing that running is my best event. Running out along the beach was cool, and then... wait a minute, there are hills on the run too? Cr@p. I was hoping that I could maintain a 9 minute pace, but I had mostly concentrated mentally on the tough bike leg, I hadn't really given much thought to how tough the run leg could be. Well, it was pretty tough.

For the first couple of miles I was at just over 9 minute pace. I saw my wife driving by around mile 1.5, she gave me a wave and honk and I was happy to see her. She later told me that I looked really strong at that point. I picked up the pace a bit and did mile 3 at 8:30, which turned out to be my fastest mile. I did feel strong at that point and thought I could continue with sub-9 minute miles.

However, my left quad was tight and startred cramping on and off, and this slowed me down going both up and down hills. I kept trying to bounce on it and massage it but didn't seem to help, so at some point I just accepted the discomfort and pushed on - but my pace suffered.

The course was very scenic. Round Valley state park has a lot of natural beauty and is well maintained. We ran up and down beautiful hills, across bridges over water, along the beach, and, unexpected by me, through the woods. About 1.5 miles on each loop were on rough (uneven, muddy, full of roots and branches) trails. It was very hard to maintain any kind of speed though those, hard to maintain my balance sometimes. My wife said she saw several people finish with cuts and bruises which I'm sure must have came from this part of the course. Anyway, HTFU and move on, or limp along, whatever.

One thing that was tough on the first loop was seeing the mile markers for the second loop, roughly +6 miles from where I actually was. The hardest part was the end of the first loop, where there were 2 signs pointing at opposite directions, "second loop" and "finish". I had thoughts of following the "finish" sign... just briefly, before turning the other way.

There were frequent water stops on the run course, and I planned on grabbing gels from them as well, but good thing I didn't rely on that. I asked for gels on every aid station I passed, but only got it once. All other stations had ran out. There should have had more given than more than half of the field was behind me. Good thing I had packed 4 gels in my pockets and fuel belt - I ended up using 3 of them, and just taking water from the course. They did have heed, but warm heed makes me gag.

The second loop was more of the same. This time I knew where the hills and trails were so no more surprises, and it was now a relief to see the signs with the bigger mile markers. I looked forward to the second loop/finish split this time, and going the direction of the finish sign.

I passed several people walking the hills on the second loop. I slowed down uphill, but never walked. Many others seemed to suffer going uphill more than me. I was glad that I had at least one hill training session each week in my schedule.

One thing that I found myself doing, which distracted me from the pain and maybe gave me a bit motivation as well, was getting mad and cursing at random things (on the inside of course). I noticed this on my marathon earlier in the year as well. The longer the race went, the more vulgar I would become, and curse at rocks, trees, road bumps, myself, you name it! Just inanimate objects though. Note to self, explore this further post-race.

From mile 7 on, I leapfrogged with a girl who kept a pretty decent pace. She passed me in the trails and then stayed about 15 yards ahead of me, and at that point I wasn't really trying to catch her. But as we came out of the trail part, she turned around and asked me if I knew where we were going, which surprised me a bit - this is the second loop right? Well, for me it was. I told her to just keep going up the road, and as we got to the finish split, she turned for her second loop, and I turned toward the finish. That was at about the 12 mile marker, and felt good to be there.

Feeling the end approaching, I felt excilarated. Just a mile to go, I've been out here for several hours and now I'm just minutes to the finish. I picked up the pace back below 9 minutes. I'm now approaching mile 13, I can hear the finish line and the announcer bringing people in and I see a turn up ahead, thinking this must be it, the turn to the finish line. Many volunteers in the area too. As I'm starting to turn, a volunteer tells me to keep going straight, just a mile to go! And as I'm starting to protest ("what do you mean a mile to go? I've already done 13!") I get back "well, maybe a bit less than a mile, and there's food at the end"). Not sure what's going on, but I keep going, and see others on the course going the same way I'm told to go as well.

There really was a mile to go. By my garmin, which tracked distance perfectly with the mile markers until mile 12, the total run distance was 13.98 miles, not 13.1 as advertised. This last mile was hard, more mentally than physically. But when I finally hit the beach, and I could see that there was just a straight line to the finish, the "I did it!" sensation, followed by the "I can stop moving soon" sensation, hit me and they both felt great. I was closing the distance to a guy who was maybe 20 yards ahead with maybe 200 yards to go, and decided against trying to pass him, and stayed back a bit to give him his finish line moment (and allow myself mine). Nobody else was behind me either, so I wasn't worried about getting passed.

Finish line comes, I throw my arms up, I hear the announcer "Number 115, John Droggitis from Mountain Lakes, NJ, you have conquered the Beast!" and cross the line. I feel exhausted but wonderful. I manage to run right by the finish line volunteer, who doesn't see me, and then have to get her attention to get my finisher medal and my chip removed. My wife runs to me and get my congratulatory kiss, and then head to the nearest bench.

As I'm sitting down at the most comfortable bench in the history of park benches, two things cross my mind. 1 - This was tough, I don't know if I can ever do a full Ironman, 2 - The only thing that can surpass this would be an Ironman finish. Ironic.

Not sure, perhaps more electrolytes to prevent cramps. Pace the bike better?

I'm relishing the attention of my wife, who's giving me leg and back rubs as I'm trying to gather enough energy to get up and get my stuff and some food. I'm feeling a bit light headed. But after a few minutes, I feel well enough to get up and head towards transition. My wife had already collected my T1 bag, so we head into T2, grab my other bag and my bike, and head to my car where we pack everything and I put on some dry clothes. The rain had stopped, apparently just after I finished, so we go get some post-race food. They had pierogies, yum! I get pierogies and a hot dog, Lena gets pierogies and a hamburger, but a couple of minutes after we sit at a table to eat, it starts raining again, so we just cram some food down and head off. I decide I'm well enough to drive, so we each get in our own car and head off. Crappy weather, but a most excellent day.


The weather, not practicing on hills enough, general fitness level.


This was the first Belly of the Beast. It was well organized for the most part, but had rough spots. I've sent detailed commentary to the race director about them. But all the problems were minor and correctable. Overall this course has a lot of character and I will strongly consider coming back next year.