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Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The Verdict Is In

So, last Sunday was my very first triathlon.

Why are you rolling your eyes at me? Have I mentioned it already or something? If you're one of my fourteen readers, then maybe you might be clued in on my race calendar, but in case you didn't get the message:

I DID A TRIATHLON LAST WEEKEND.

How was it, right? That's what you want to ask? I don't know yet. My gut reaction is NOPE, NOT EVEN ONCE AGAIN. That much is true. I feel like this after most endurance events, even with my beloved half marathon distance, so I rarely take myself seriously immediately post-race.

I'll try to break it down phase by phase to give you an idea of what went down and how I faked it to make it.

The Setup
As I was setting up my transition area, I felt like I brought way too much stuff. I didn't have a sweet tri-suit leotard. I didn't have one of those phallic shaped bike helmets. I didn't bring a hydration system attached to my bike frame. I only brought things that I've worn on bike rides and runs before and just laid it out hoping that I totally looked like I knew what I was doing.

My stuff.
The Swim
I decided to wear a wetsuit for the swimming portion because I'm still not the strongest of swimmers, and until that morning, I have never swam in a crowd full of people before. Having a little extra buoyancy seemed prudent. Trying to pull down my wetsuit and shorts underneath to go pee proved to be another unique challenge that I wasn't prepared for either.

The 25-29 age bracket was the second to last heat to start in the water as well as the second youngest. Looking behind me, I saw a group of 19-24 year olds who looked a lot more lithe and buoyant than yours truly. When the whistle blew signaling our start, I stayed in the back and waited until most everyone was in the water. I really didn't need to do this because within four strokes, everyone was far out of my range.

My husband and I developed a very specific stroke for me called the Rotisserie. This is where I swim backstroke then rotate onto my stomach to sight and vainly splash around in a poor attempt at a freestyle. Out there in Lake Washington, I had this stroke down pat. Unfortunately, no one seemed to understand what I was trying to do, so a lot of the lifeguards on their kayaks yelled things like, "Hey watch out for this one in the purple cap!" or "DON'T GIVE UP!" when I felt like I was doing just fine.

Not surprisingly, I smacked a lot of people with my helicopter style backstroke, and I felt guilty when one girl nearly burst into tears and insisted that I was trying to drown her. I tried my best to stay along the perimeter of the pack, but the last 75 meters of the swim channeled us through a lane of buoys back to the shore, so there was no hope for anyone within arm's reach of me.

When I came out of the water, I had no idea what my time was. It felt like I was out there for an eternity, and I had enough lake water in my stomach to create a personal lagoon. I was so relieved to be on land that I staggered my way to the transition to start the bike portion totally forgetting that the transition time is added to the clock. My swim was a grand total of 22 minutes (on target based on my training) with about a 5 minute transition thereafter (oops).

The Bike
The day before, I pumped my tires to the appropriate psi and felt pleased with myself up until I broke my back tire's valve stem in half a mere hour before I had to rack my bike. Bicycles 101: NEVER PULL YOUR PUMP OFF AT AN ANGLE FROM THE VALVE. Idiot.

Fortunately, the core stayed inside the stem and didn't release any additional air. I knew that I had a slow leak on my wheel, but because I was short on time before racking and could already feel my anxiety building, I decided to just go with it for the race.

After slithering out of my wetsuit and practically twerking my butt into my bike shorts, I ran out to start the bike course. Within two miles, I could feel the bumpitybumpbumpbump of my back wheel indicating that I needed some air or it was going to be bad. I hopped off my bike and pumped my tire with the broken valve until it felt like an unripe avocado. Why didn't the valve's core fall through then and leak all of the air out? I have no idea, but HOLY CRAP if I am not thankful for that miracle.

After about 5 minutes off the road doing that, I hit the course as hard as I could only to get caught up on a very narrow and rather steep hill that had a long line of cyclists either walking their bikes or toppling over into the bushes. I am not a fan of falling over while clipped in or colliding with people who are about to fall, so I walked my bike around this obstacle. After another 30 seconds of that, I REALLY got started on the course.

I do not consider myself an experienced cyclist by any means, but I passed a lot of women on the course, many of whom I recognized having passed me on the swim. After my tire hiccough and my subsequent decision to hoof a hill, I was really surprised by this. It motivated me to push a little harder and I managed to finish 12 miles in 46 minutes, impending flat tire and hill walking situation included.

The Run
My favorite part, ha.

Once I managed to re-rack my bike and change my shoes, I started jogging onto the run course to loosen my legs a mere two minutes after unclipping at the dismount point. As the mileage progressed, I didn't do anything crazy. I didn't try to sprint at the end or treat this like an interval session. Instead, I wanted this 5K to be a reflective enjoyable time. As it stands, this was the only event that went off without a hitch for me.

I cheered on fellow runners and high-fived my best friend from high school, who was doing the triathlon with me. I thanked the volunteers at the water stations and street closures. I waved at passersby and home dwellers clapping from their porches. I looked around at the community that was supporting and participating in this event and felt very thankful.

Clearly, a 5K is not long enough to entertain my running rage.

As I crossed the finish line, I could feel my usual runner's high surfacing and then cracking my face open with a wide smile. Other than a few gallons of Lake Washington, I hardly consumed any fluids throughout the whole event, so I downed a cold water bottle and some chocolate moo like my life depended on it.

The End?
With a finishing time of 1:45, I am fairly pleased by my performance and I am thankful that I have no way to measure if this was a "good" time or not for me personally.

Whenever I finish a running event, I am always itching for the next marathon and looking forward to it. I do not feel this way about triathlons. At all. The amount of preparation and training required is staggering, and the thought of doing another one wears me out already.

I am of the mind to never say never, so I won't commit to not doing another one again next season. (I really think I need a solid year to prepare for the next one!) In the meantime, all I can truly say is:

 I DID THIS, YOU GUYS.





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