Tri-not?

So, after a summer of running, and a tiny bit of swimming and biking, I was all set for my first triathlon. As any good athlete will tell you, planning and selection of the proper event is a must. I, on the other hand, signed up for the only one within 50 miles and paid no attention to whether or not it would be a good fit.

Early in the morning, my alarm went off and I was starting up. Usually, I have the prerace rituals down pat, but for some reason, I felt that with two other sports added in, I needed to be extra anxious and have no idea how to prepare. So, after a night of packing and a call to Pat for some advice, I decided to call it even in the morning and do what I normally do, minus the eating, stretching, and rereading of ‘The Little Engine That Could.’

We loaded up the car and made the long drive south to Deer Creek. We got there early and managed to get a good parking space. I wandered over to the registration area and once I found it, I was in line. Before I knew it, I had a number on my arm, something on my legs that I couldn’t see (probably an ethnic slur or dirty cartoon), and a timing chip. I went over to my trusty bike, Ulla and put on the number.

I followed the other athletes and began to set up my transition area. I put my bike on the rack and set out my towel, sunglasses, and my stilts. Now all I had to do was wait. And eat. And stretch.

Once those were out of the way, I made my way down to the water for the start. They kept explaining where we were to swim, but I didn’t understand, I’d be confident that I could just follow people, but there is always a chance that I’ll be DFL, and won’t have anyone in sight. Oh well, a risk I’ll have to take.

Fortunately, I was in the first wave, so there was less a chance I’d end up last, but more of a chance I’d get caught, kicked, and possibly drowned. Yippee. We lined up and I made my way to the back of the pack. The gun sounded and we charged? into the water. I cautiously made my way in and began to splash around. I gave a few horsey rides to some of the spectators until Sarah yelled at me and told me to get going. So, I began swimming towards the buoy. I looked up after a few strokes and I was already a few lengths behind everyone. But, soon I was moving more quickly and I actually began to get some speed going, and caught the last few swimmers in the pack. Once I got to the buoy though, I lost my rhythm. I was half side-stroking, half-drowning almost until the halfway point. It seemed to me like I was using my legs way too much and was going to regret that. I tried using less leg and more arm and promptly sank.

Somehow, I started to get into my groove and was getting more confident. By then, everyone was passing me and I was trying not to kick anyone and not get dunked on someone’s downstroke. Then the waves hit. I was swimming directly into giant swells of at least 3 inches! Suddenly, my confidence and rhythm were gone. I managed to get around the last corner and start heading for the end. I was back in the groove when my leg cramped up. So, for the rest of the swim, I kicked, massaged, kicked, massaged, and repeated until the end. When I turned to the shore I stood up as soon as I could and ran out of the water. I was just under 30 minutes. Considering I had done a 25 minute tune-up swim, I was right on pace, especially having slowed so much and been in OPEN WATER!

Up the hill I ran to the transition area. Over the beach, the rocks, and over the chip mat. The chip on my ankle fell down to my foot as soon as I hit the water and had been nagging me the whole swim. I sat down and took my time getting ready, no sense in rushing too much. Soon enough, I was on my bike.

The early miles of the bike were good. I was moving at a good clip, passing lots of people with fancier, shinier, lighter bikes. Sure, there were people passing us all without even trying, but I wouldn’t have caught them with a better bike anyway. I figured I was about a third of the way done and decided to get some water. So, I reached down and got my bottle. I took a swig or two and prepared to put it back, always a delicate move. Apparently, I wasn’t delicate enough. As I leaned over, I let the handlebars turn and drifted across the street. I felt a bike bump me and down I went. I remember sliding on my chest and looking up and seeing my would-be crash victim riding away. She looked back, asked if I was okay, and kept going. I told her I was fine (a lie) and laid back down on the pavement, sweet, sweet pavement. A few people offered to stop or get help, but I wasn’t having it (maybe I DID hit my head). I was kind of stunned and couldn’t figure out how to get up, my hands were cut and my legs were shot. Somehow, I righted myself, the bike, put my bottle back (no, I didn’t even get it in the cage before the fall) and started up.

Now, in addition to fatigue, I had a trivial amount of blood loss, and a sore knee. I wasn’t sure if the knee was just bad from riding and running so much, or the fall. Somehow, I caught a few of the folks who’d passed me when I was on the ground. The first part of the ride was mostly a gentle climb. So, I had some downhills to look forward to. They all came at once. A steep grade down felt nice. What wasn’t nice, was the sharp climb back up. I didn’t have the leg strength, speed, or available gears to make it. I hopped off the bike and ran it up the hill. My legs were not happy. Uh-oh. I coasted in, managing to put in a little speed up the last hill. I was still hoping for a rebound on the run.

In and out of transition, I was ready. 3.1 miles, easy. My legs weren’t cooperating though. Plus, it was hot. I didn’t mind on the bike, but running, it wasn’t fun. Still, I was passing people, albeit slowly. We wandered along the ridge of a hill and had a nice view of the lake. The course took us across a dam, which was kind of fun. I spied a guy in a yellow jersey up ahead. I figured he’d be easy to see at the turnaround, and so I’d know where it was. No luck, I caught him 3 meters before the turnaround. Back we went towards the end. There was a breeze, but it was hot and right in my face. Eventually, I was back at the start, crossed the line and swore of triathlons forever.