Wrong eye wear
I should have known I was out of place when I noticed I was the only athlete who showed up with rhinestone-studded designer sunglasses. I quickly stowed them away in my bag in the triathlon "transition" area where athletes change into their bike shoes and take off on their expensive bikes after the swim. Then I walked to the start line on the beach where the 24 "waves" of 50 people each waited for their heat to be called to start. That's when I noticed everyone ... yes, everyone ... but me ... had swim goggles.
My First Triathlon
It was my first triathlon, a small one called a "sprint," comprised of a ¼ mile swim, 15 mile bike ride, and 3.1 mile run. A seasoned runner and twice a week "spinner" at the gym, I thought this little competition should be a piece of cake. The biking and running would be easy, and anyone can swim a quarter mile, right? What's the worst that could happen? I'd have to do the dog paddle and back float.
I was in the last wave of participants because I registered the day prior. The 24th wave seemed to be comprised of well-oiled triathletes who decided to use this sprint triathlon as a trainer, and newbies who decided at the last minute to try a triathlon after a late night bet. I was in the latter category. I was also in the select category of athletes wearing a bikini - comprised of a pair of black shortie "hot shorts" and a Nike bikini top, while everyone else seemed to have "tri gear" on. Tri-gear translates to racing singlets, special swim-bike short combos and tight swim caps. There was no way I was going to fork out more than $100 for official tri-clothing. I quickly found out all participants had to wear swim caps (a requirement). thank goodness I had left mine in my race bag the night before. They gave the swim caps out for free with registration. My kids had tried on the swim cap and laughed at how ridiculous it looked. And for some reason I put it in the bag in case I wanted to preserve my hair. Good move. There would have been no swim without it.
High turbidityThe water in Pewaukee Lake was warm, and full of seaweed and suspended particles of dirt. Poor turbidity. As we waited for our wave to be called, people chatted idly watching groups of 50 jump into the water every two minutes. In casual conversation, I found out the people in wetsuits don't wear them for warmth, but for buoyancy (mental note). Meanwhile, a woman next to me called her boyfriend "crazy" because he hadn't swam at all this summer.
"Can you believe he's doing this?" she chuckled. We all laughed.
Then I thought for a moment ... had I swam at all this summer?
Well, I did take the kids to the pool about once a week, and put on my suit to watch from the side and fetch the occasional ball that went outside the pool. But as for real swimming... I couldn't recall the last time I had really swam. Maybe when I went waterskiing 10 years ago? Even then, I had a life preserver on... To be honest, the last time I really swam was summer camp in sixth grade.
Our wave of athletes ran into the water about 50 minutes after the first wave of pro athletes started their triathlon. We kind of ran and splashed and tried to get into the deeper water. My athletic friends had warned me not to panic when the swim starts because people get pushy and sometimes accidentally shove you under. Well, I didn't have this problem. I was way at the end of the pack... uhmmmmmm.... doing the dog paddle. Ten feet into the deeper section I swallowed my first gulp of soupy green lake water. This happened 17 more times during my swim. I focused on not panicking, and went into the back float. Within 90 seconds, all the other swimmers were hundreds of feet ahead. A rescue volunteer asked if I needed help. I replied, "No, but stay close by just in case..."
I actually did pass one person, a woman who had panicked and was struggling to stay afloat near a buoy. She was calling for help. I flagged down a rescue volunteer, called for assistance for the scared young woman, and they helped her up onto a boat. It was really scary to see someone panicked.
They pulled her to shore, then it was just me. All by myself. Taking in lake water. I really felt sick the first time I had a chunk of seaweed float in my mouth as I gulped for air. The whole time I told myself not to panic. Just dog paddle, float and do your best.
As the minutes passed, I spent a lot of time thinking. Why was I doing this triathlon?! What was I thinking?! I had a vague sense of déjà vu as my brain processed these feelings, and I realized the last time I felt this way was when I was running my first (and last) marathon six years ago. What makes people so crazy to attempt these athletic challenges? Are these athletes insane?
I was within 20 feet of the shallow water and just wanted to just give up, but my pride got the best of me, and I somehow managed to make it to shore. Even though I was last sole to come out of the water, the crowd still cheered.
I trotted to the "transition area," and threw on my jogging shorts over the bikini, and added running shoes and a long-sleeve college jersey. I thought I was thinking smart: long sleeves to protect my fair skin from the searing sun. Although it was only 9 in the morning, the temperatures were already well into the 80's with no lake breeze. There were only three people (out of 1200) left in the transition area by the time I left. The first place finishers (who started 50 minutes earlier than the last wave of athletes) were already finishing the triathlon! Yet, as I pedaled out of the transition area onto the course, onlookers still cheered, passed out Gatorade and wished me well.
Real girls use kickstandsThe night prior to the race, my husband chided me for riding a mountain bike. "If you are serious about doing more triathlons, you should invest in a road bike," he said. "You are going to be so slow on a mountain bike, not to mention sore the next day."
There was no way I was going to drop a grand or two on a bike for a tri or two. It just wasn't worth it for a couple hours "fun." As it turned out, I spotted five mountain bikes among the thousand bikes that day. And, there was one other person that actually kept the kickstand on her bike, like me. (I guess real athletes take their kickstands off their bikes.) My philosophy is the bike is easier to stand up in the garage with a kickstand on, and less likely to tip over on a car.
The first mile was all up hill, but I a regular spinner at the gym, so this was no problem for me. I had also just spent a week in a hotel that only had stationary bikes to work out on, so I was ready for the challenge. In fact, I gained momentum just thinking about being done with the swim section. My confidence soared with my rhinestone sunglasses on, and I was happy I had on a long sleeve shirt to protect me from the sun. I passed four bikers in the first 10 minutes of my journey - a 40-something man who was struggling, a 60-something grandma, two young women who were pushing each other on.
Real motivation: the Starbucks fantasyAbout 10 miles into the bike portion I was getting antsy and bored. Although I as pushing it, I wasn't gasping for air or exhausted. The long sleeve shirt was getting a little hot because it had heated up to 90 degrees, and I started fantasizing about a Starbucks cappuccino to keep myself motivated. The thought of a delicious latte lathered in whip cream spurred my on, and I fought that attitude to "just finish" the triathlon. By the 12-mile mark I thought how long can this go on? Don't these hills ever just go down?! What kind of geography only has hills angled 45 degrees up? A police officer told me I had less than three miles to go, and this spurred me on. Finally I could see the beach where we started. And, yes, it was a was downhill the last mile.
I parked my bike and threw off my helmet. This saved time because I didn't switch from bike shoes to running shoes. (I actually own two pair of bike shoes for spinning, but why buy special cleats for my mountain bike for just a couple hours?) As a few athletes changed shoes, I jogged out of the transition area, but had to turn around to get my lucky Air Force baseball cap. Of course many athletes from the first couple waves were completing the course at this point. Over the loud speaker, the director said they would start the awards ceremony in a few minutes. I tuned him out and pressed on into the run.
Gaining momentum
Again, the first thing I saw out of the chute was a looming hill. Running was my strongest segment. And I sped up the hill, I saw people walking, huffing and puffing. I passed up a few more folks, encouraging them as I went. Spectators still cheered from their lawns, offering sports gum, wet sponges and water. I felt myself gaining speed and momentum.
Then I spotted a 20-something college student who I had spoken to earlier. He was a runner, and it was his first tri, too. So I surged ahead and caught up to him. Together, we strategically "picked-off" other more than 15 runners along the way, pushing each other toward the finish. The last segment of the race was a quarter-mile run down hill, and then a straight shot to the end. As we passed more runners, I cheered them on, letting them know we were almost done, and told them that Starbucks was being served at the finish line (hey - it would have worked to motivate me!).
The last 20 yards looked and felt great. I was always told it doesn't matter how well you perform in the race, as long as you look strong at the finish. So I pulled my shoulders back, sprinted into the gate, flashed the camera a smile under my rhinestone sunglasses, and ducked under the finish line.
I didn't spend anytime hanging around the event. Instead, I grabbed my bike and bag, and headed to the car. After all, the closest Starbucks was five miles away. Remarkably, I felt fine and made it to the gym later that morning for my 11 a.m. body pump class.
Another try at a tri?
Would I do another tri? Probably not.
Swimming is not my strong suit, especially in a bikini. And goggles and swim caps hurt my head. But I've heard they have biathlons and duathalons comprised only of biking and running. So I now starting an online search for the next one in my area, and dusting off those rhinestone sunglasses.
Race organizer Darrin waits for bikers after the runners finished. The nice "gold" medal was given out later.
While serving in Italy this summer, I gradually learned to accept the Italian way of life. Slow-paced, no worries, don’t worry about being on time. Well many of you are probably well aware of “Knabe time” (translates to 3 minutes late), but Italian time is 3 hours late. So it drives us Type-A's crazy. So when my meetings ended by 4 p.m. and I didn’t have a ride, I came up with an alternate solution to waiting 3 hours for the 6 p.m. bus that would really arrive at 7:30 p.m. It speaks true to the last think Obiwan said, “you are very resourceful.”
Every July we "Storm the Bastille" in Milwaukee with a 5K that starts at 9 p.m. I ran with about 2000 other runners, joggers and jokers. This is not a serious run. It's for fun. People are crazy.
So the running season really has taken off.
Panic!
