That’s Right Sir – I’m No Tri-geek!

That’s Right Sir – I’m No Tri-geek!
JUNE 2005
Oooooh. That feels good! Water sloshing around at 82F always feels good. I knew that as I progressed through my training for my first ever triathlon. I had done the bike portion as a team member before, but I had never done the whole thing alone. Swimming was definitely the focal point of training for me. I could bike in the top 10%, I knew that by looking at past year performances in the race. I could crawl to the finish, I thought. I might have to after the swim and bike portions. But, the 65F swim in murky Willoughby Bay [part of the Chesapeake Bay] kept coming back to my mind. How cold is 65F when you are swimming? How many times will I get kicked and elbowed? Will I see a dolphin charging at me out of the darkness to investigate all of the commotion? God forbid!
I am going to be totally transparent here. I have been training pretty consistently for about two years. I am very confident in my ability to reach personal goals in my athletic endeavors. I have no fear of registering last-minute for just about anything half-marathon distance and under and being able to complete the event. I’m not going to dominate anyone, and really don’t care to. I have always raced myself. And this case was no different. I had my own goals of 25s-2.5t-32b-2t-29r for a total of about 1:31. That would be fine for me. I thought that I’d leave it all out on the bike course and have my glory there [if I didn’t drown]. Then, I could just coast to the finish with an easy jog. Yeah… right!
The night before the event I laid out all the gear I would need. I took it out to the car and slept well all night. That was a good plan! I arrived at the race a little later than planned, but gear check went fast. I placed my bike and gear and walked back to the car to suit up for the swim. After about 30 minutes I was back in the start area when I noticed that my bike was on the wrong rack. They penalize you for time if that is the case, so I replaced my bike and gear on the proper rack and went back for the start. No big deal, and worth a few laughs. The race announcer kept calling out race numbers who were in bike-rack-purgatory. I am just glad I caught mine before everyone knew about it!
The cattle herd starting waves progressed until I waded into the water. It was bracing. Thirty seconds later I was swimming and trying to find a rhythm. It never came. About 250 meters into the swim I knew I had a problem. No vision, too many kicks [both to me and by me], too cold, and too nervous. So I would freestyle 50 meters and breast stroke 25 meters. Then I remembered that I sucked so bad at breast stroke that I’d rather drown. So, back to freestyle. About 600 meters in I inhaled some water when I kicked a guy so hard it hurt my foot. People were swimming into each other because they couldn’t see a damn thing! I went to alternating a vigorous sidestroke and freestyle. The shore grew large and I walked out of the water and across the chip pad at 26:04 for the 1000 meter swim. That was good for 586th out of 710 participants. Perhaps I should have drowned! [The Grand Lesson… train for race conditions. Training in a “laboratory” environment will not work in most instances]
T1 was fun! I sat down and peeled off my shorty wet suit. I wipe down my feet and legs and slid into my bike tights. Then I struggled with my socks and jersey, sticking to every moist patch of skin. [Newsflash… Lesson 1… 10 more seconds drying off is better than 45 seconds of struggling with sticky and wet garments and skin. Finally, the helmet was strapped and off I went to the transition exit. Ooooops. I ran to the entry point I had used to bring in my equipment, but it was closed. The exit was now the furthest point away in the transition zone! None of the volunteers said anything to me. I was left to find my own way. [Newsflash… Lesson 2… scope out the T-zone before the race]. T1 was an astonishingly turtle-like 4:25!
I got onto the bike and hit it pretty hard. I warmed up fast. The streets were a bit bumpy on the Norfolk Naval Air Station, so everyone got a little beat up. I saw two guys changing tires… bummer. I was technically very solid. Cutting the apex of the curves, staying down on the airstryke bars I use through corners, passing without drafting, and gear selection were all solid. I slid into T2 with a chip time of 35:08. That put me at 106th out of 710. My age division [35-39] actually had the vast majority of the fastest bike times. Chalk one up for the “experienced” group. It was a breezy day at Breezy Point. Living up to its name, the fastest average bike speed was 24.6 mph.
T2 was not fun. I missed my bike aisle and had to do a circle around the entire length of the aisle back to my bike. Once again I was running circles in cycling shoes. [Newsflash… Lesson 3… use some unique way of marking your bike or your aisle if you need to. A ribbon or something like that would work great] Some jar-head volunteer was yelling at me and I was not taking it well. I thought he was a spectator! I was in real turtle mode now, double knotting my shoes and glaring at the T2 drill instructor as he screamed on and on “… this is a sprint triathlon people, this ain’t no Boston Marathon!” Really? You think? [Moron] [Newsflash… Lesson 4… use speed laces, and if you have to change shirts, do it while you run] I beat my previous transition by a whole second, posting the second-longest T2 time of the day in a molasses-like 4:24!
It had warmed up well into the 80’s and it was humid, so my run strategy of jogging was looking pretty good! I was in good spirits. I might have started a little faster, but a tweak in my calf told me to take it easy. That I did! I saw one dude puke and walk over to a loading dock stairway and sit down. I felt good, but I knew that my goal times were a complete bust. So, finishing happy was the only goal left. Running through a military base is not a scenic adventure. It was with great joy that most of the competitors made the final turn and ran down an old section of tarmac along the bay to the finish line. I finished happy and thirsty, as the effort and the heat left me a little dehydrated. I actually sprinted the last 200+ meters. Crazy to even give the effort considering my T times! 1:41 and some change. 509th out of 710.
Would I do it again? No sir… I am no tri-geek. As many of the participants loaded their bikes and made the short trip to the after-party, I quietly went home to relax. Enough is enough. This was a sprint race, not an epic… no sense in making it an epic. I guess my jar-head DI friend was right. Perhaps a pool start would entice me, but for now I’ll be checking into biathlons, duathlons, and other similarly ill-advised pursuits. I will also continue to lap swim at least once a week. One of these days I might actually be considered proficient! I have always considered myself to be a doer and a survivor. Doers are willing to try anything at least once. Survivors know when to declare victory and move on.