This was my first one, so I didn’t know where to start. Guess I’ll start at the beginning.
3:30 AM. Finally, the alarm goes off. I’d been tossing and turning since 1:30, checking my phone for the time every 20 minutes or so. Bikes on the car, tri backpacks packed, showers; all done the night before. Roll out of bed, get dressed, make some toast and grab some extra water. Take out the garbage; throw remaining bags in car, on the road by 4:05. A million stars are in the sky.
5:45 AM. Park near the race site, after a stop for coffee, and a near miss with a deer crossing the road. Damn deer. We supposed to be at the race site by 6:00, for a 7:00 am start, so we were actually early. Grab our stuff, walk bike to the race site, find a decent spot on the racks, and get in line for the bathroom. I’m a little nervous. Glad we got there early so I’m not in a panic about laying out my stuff or forgetting something. Chat with Husband (he signed up at the last minute), but lose him in the crowd when I leave to put on my wetsuit.
6:55 AM. Race briefing on the beach. I get in the water to get used to the temperature. Women are asked to get out of the water. Men swim out to the start line buoy, which seems awfully far out in the water to me. We are to swim out to a buoy, then along the beach to another buoy, go around it, back to the first one, and in.
7:00 AM. A horn marks the start, and the men are off. I look for Husband, but it’s impossible to recognize anyone.
7:03 AM. I am only waist-deep in the water, when the horn for the women’s start goes. I catch up to some feet and bubbles, but am soon with just a few at the back of the pack. What just brushed against my leg? Aaagh – get it off! Get it off! Calm down, girl. I am gasping a bit, so I switch to backstroke very early on. I had hoped to freestyle most of it, and only backstroke if I needed it, or toward the end.
One of the problems with backstroke is; you can’t see where you are going. I think the wind was blowing against me on the way out. Or maybe I just can’t swim in a straight line. The race helpers/lifeguards were nice about it though. “Miss, you are going off the course. Head that way.” Oh, thank you.
So, I’m out there, going slow, definitely not pushing myself to go any faster; just resolved to finish the thing. I would flip over on my stomach for a while, but then back on my back. Goggles fogged up, and I really couldn’t see anything. One side leaks, inviting salt water in my eye. Vaguely aware that the beach was on one side of me, the sun on the other. Actually considered making a beeline for the beach, but knew those nice lifeguards wouldn’t let me drown, so I kept going. More like a leisurely float in the ocean, it wasn’t like a race. What the hell was I thinking when I almost signed up for a half Ironman? I basically can’t swim at all.
I was the last person out of the water. DFL. Sigh. As I dragged myself out of the water, the lead runners were heading out. Double sigh. But I managed to yank out my wetsuit, put on my gloves, helmet, shorts, socks and shoes with rubbery arms and legs amid a sea of empty bike racks. Squeezed some apple pie flavored carb gel in my mouth and followed with a Gatorade chaser.
Off on the bike. Eight miles to go. I feel okay once I am out on the course, away from the crowd on the beach, and past a pack of runners. Front wheel on my bike was rubbing against something and making an annoying clicking sound the whole way. Yeah, that can’t be good for the bike. I did this triathlon on my mountain bike, so I consoled myself that my equipment would be to blame for my slow bike time. My slow swim, on the other hand, has nothing to blame but my general freakoutishness.
I actually felt pretty good on the bike and passed 3 or 4 people. Since I know they had several minutes head start on me, this made me fell pretty good about my bike ride. With about a mile to go, I pull up to Husband on the run for a wink and a smile. Hey, good looking!
Back to my home away from home at the transition area. Bike shoes off, running shoes on. Helmet and gloves off, running hat on. Seems like I should have more to do, but I take a sip of Gatorade and head out.
Run starts on sandy beach, which feels all funny. 2 chicks head out about a minute before I do, but it looks like they are running with heavy legs. I pass pink shorts and white top, feeling victorious. But, what is this burning sensation in my calves? Damn you, lactic acid! I try to keep going, but break down and walk for 50 yards. Pink shorts and white top pass me. Grrr.
Burning subsides a bit, and I return to a slow jogging pace. Pink shorts and white top eat my dust. Beer belly is next, followed by gay couple in matching bike outfits. I am easily passed by a couple with a string between them – hmm, that’s strange. I later realize this is because the woman (wife, perhaps) is blind. Pretty impressive, I have to say.
Me, myself and I for probably 2 miles. I remember to say thank you to the volunteers who provide water and send you in the right direction at all the turns on the course. Getting closer. In the home stretch. Of course, many finishers are already leaving, and I am dodging bikes and cars headed the other direction at this point. But another couple is way far ahead, moving slowly. I get closer. Closer. The guy is jogs a bit, then kind of limps a bit. Closer. (Note to self: time for an eye exam?) Right up behind them. The guy’s one leg is mechanical from the knee down. Now that is impressive. Oh well, with a ¼ mile to go, nothing left to do but pass them.
Husband is waiting for me at the finish line, and snaps a few pictures. What a good man I’ve got. I feel great.
So that was it. Not exactly pretty, but I certainly have room for improvement. My only goal was to finish, so I completed that goal. The official race results aren’t up yet, but I know I finished in about 1:45. Which, by the way, is how long it took me to do a 15K six months ago. So progress has been made. Now, if I could only learn to swim . . .
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