the triathlon

Monday, July 14, 2003

Well, kids. After months of anticipation, I did it. I completed my first triathlon. And, if I say so myself, I kicked ass. Even James is a bit surprised at my finish time. The satisfaction that I finished in the 29th percentile doesn't hurt either.

Before I go any further, behold the results:

Race Results
Race: 2003 CHICAGOLAND RESULTS
First Name: HEATHER
Sex: F
Class: 30-34
Swim: 00:18:10
Swim Rank: 1210
Trans 1: 00:03:11
Bike: 00:37:02
Bike Rank: 240
MPH: 19.4
Trans 2: 00:03:25
Run: 00:29:40
Run Rank: 907
Pace: 00:09:34
Final: 01:31:31
Class Rank: 138 out of 439
Overall Rank: 651 out of 2226

I wish I had pictures to share right now. Unfortunately, they all were taken with film which means developing is necessary. I will get them up as soon as possible because (unless James was a klutz) there should be a ton. The boy brought his bike to the course and followed me along the way cheering me on at various points. I almost got embarrassed. But it was nice. Other women even commented on his cheerleading skills after seeing him multiple times along the course.

(Update: I just received a few images from my buddy so I'll have a few to sprinkle in the entry -- I'll still share more later.)

So much anticipation and training went into the race. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I spent mornings at the gym swimming, I was cycling with my group. I was getting ready.

Still, I was not prepared for (1) how well I would actually end up doing and (2) how hard I would actually push myself. Joking in the hotel room with my buddy the night before the race, I told her my official goal was to finish within 2 hours, yet my *real* goal was 1 hour and 45 minutes. Back-up goals to save face, you know.

Then I go and finish in an hour, 31 minutes and 31 seconds shattering both goals. This astonishes and fills me with such a sense of pride and satisfaction. I cannot even begin to express to you how good I feel about it. I just know that I went out there to try something new and I came out thinking, "Shit. I'm not half bad at this and there is so much I can improve."

In fact, the most common thought swimming around in my brain right now is, "Hmmm... when will the next one be?"

The weekend was a little stressful. I'm a planner and I was anxious. My buddy came in from California to compete with me and I brought my mountain bike along so that she wouldn't have to deal with renting a bike. Right off the bat, we had issues with the bike. The tires went flat and since James and I just put new tires (slicks) and tubes on the thing, we were worried. We did fix it up, but I was stressed that she would flat on her ride and I'd feel guilty since it was, after all, my bike.

Then there was the fact that we overslept the morning of the race. It wasn't horrible. We were still up at 4:40 am. But I'm a planner. An OVER-planner. And I wanted up at 4:15 am. Thank goodness I had this terrible feeling while dreaming about broken goggles and I awoke up out of a deep sleep only to see the clock reading 4:40 am.

"Oh no!" I scream. James and Julie, my buddy, jump up in bed (James is in my bed, for the record. Julie has her own).

"It's 4:40!" I continue.

Then they both roll their eyes and lay back down in bed. Obviously they are not worried about the time.

The 4:40 wake-up time ended up working fine. My only issue was that I lost a contact lens in the bathroom and spent 15 minutes searching for it. Luckily I found it because that was the one thing I didn't bring a spare of.

We got to the course grounds at about 5:30 am. The transition area was supposedly closing at 6:30 am so we had an hour to get out shit together. Julie and I went about getting our bikes ready. I poddied and set up my area. Luckily we got there earlier than most. Soon droves of women began to arrive and the bathroom lines quickly became out of control.

James was around with his bike and pump. He helped a number of stressed women who were worried about their tire pressure. I was so proud of that. He really made some women's days.

Since Julie's & my wave didn't take off until 8:05, we took our time getting over to the swim start. The first women went off at 7:00 am and they were beautiful to watch. The pros are just so graceful.

Julie and I on our way over to the swim start. We had over an hour before our wave took off.

Since we had an hour, Julie and I took some time to warm up a bit in the water. I jumped in a did a few strokes of the crawl. I felt really confident and I even decided that we should start at the front of the pack. My theory was that if we start first, I only have to deal with people passing me.

Here we are after our warm-up. I'm such a charmer in that bathing cap, I know...

One last wave before we start. Looking at this picture with me in my bathing suit and Julie in her shorts, I can see how wearing shorts for the swim is both efficient AND flattering. Something to keep in mind for next time.

This is our wave lined up and ready to go. I'm way on the other side in front. Actually, I'm probably in front peeing in the water the very moment this picture was taken. Does that make me a bad person?

Soon, our time to start arrived and all my months of anticipation culminated to a single brisk start. We counted down, we jumped in the water. I started to stroke with women around me. And immediately, I found myself having trouble. Soon, I was falling back. Women were passing me right and left. Arms and legs were flying everywhere. And. Then. My goggles started to leak and steam up.

Shit! I panic. I wanted to fix my goggles but women were swimming around me at all points. The water was too deep to stand. I couldn't see that well. I didn't know what to do. I could barely see the women next to me, let alone that swim angels that were supposedly on all sides. "I can't do this!" I hear myself whimper. "What am I going to do if I can't see and / or fix my goggles?"

Somehow, though, I talk myself down. I tread water for a bit to allow the crowd to pass. I do the breast stroke keeping my head above water. And even though I can't fix my goggles, I figure, if nothing else, I can continue this way.

So, like I said, my goggles were really fogging up and the sun was reflecting off the water. I could only see rough outlines of people. I could barely see the outlines of buoys. I hear the angels and kayak helpers vaguely cheering us on. I know the building in the distance framed our finish. So, I just concentrated on that. I've trained for this triathlon for months. I want to finish. So, I just swim towards the building, I swim towards the light. I focus on just getting done with this leg. A few times, gulps of water would enter my mouth and nose and my body would instinctively panic. At these times, I talked myself down and concentrated on deep breathing. A few more times, I tried to fix my goggles and put my face back in the water while doing a stronger breast stroke. But this caused my goggles to fill up even more and fog even further. "Just swim this out," I told myself. "Next time, you'll do better."

Julie and I are finishing up our swim somewhere in this photo. I'm amazed at how bright and clear this photo is. All I remember about the swim is seeing blurriness and fog. Yes, new goggles are essential next time...

Because I couldn't see very well, I had no idea where I was in the swim course until the very end. Halfway through, my buddy yelled out to me, "You're doing great!"

I was shocked to know she was still in the water. This gave me added confidence. I decided to work on making my breast stroke stride stronger, goggles and leakage be damned! In fact, before I knew it, the swim was over and the beach was upon me. I even finished before my buddy.

Jumping out of the water and ripping off my goggles was such a relief. I knew the hardest part was done and I clumsily ran up the sandy beach into the transition area. The crowd was cheering. I ran all the way to my spot. Someone yelled out my number and it felt so, so good.

"Number 1916. Yeah!"

At transition one, I pulled on my bike shorts and bike jersey (which I had some difficulty with because it got stuck in back). I put on my socks, my cycling shoes, my gloves and my helmet. My buddy appeared. It was groovy that we were actually able to rack together. She complimented me on my straight swim and was out of the T1 in a blink of an eye. I drank down some water, grabbed my bike and ran out to start the cycle.

At this point, I heard James cheering for me. He encouraged me to take the 1st mile to recover and hydrate. I was having a hard time breathing, my pulse rate was up. But I was also high on adrenaline and getting ready to start my strongest leg.

I didn't wear a heart rate monitor on the race. I figured it was one extra thing that would require fiddling with. However, I would be interested to know where I was at the start of the bike. My breathing was shallow. I felt like I was giving it my all and then some. Yet I couldn't slow down. I knew it would be smart and chill and drink some water, yet I didn't want to. My legs and my bike felt so strong and I was passing women one after another. I kept thinking, after this hill or after this bunch of women, I'll slow down and drink. But that never happened because I felt so strong and I just wanted to push it, push it, push it. Most times when I looked at my computer I was going between 17 and 25 mph. On hills, I was powering passed groups of people. I cornered like a pro. I know I took a few drinks of water, but mostly I concentrated on just cycling as strong as I could. I knew this was my strongest leg and I wanted to do as well as I could.

I guess this is the point where it hit me. Where I realized that my toughest opponent was myself. Because even though I wasn't really "competing," deep down, I was. And hell if anyone was going to pass me along the way.

It should be no surprise that this leg went fast. I barely remember it except for seeing James a few times and saying thanks to all the race officials. Friends of mine talked about how peaceful and beautiful the bike course was. But I didn't see it. No. My ride was all about power.

When I got back to transition, I'd only drank perhaps half of one of my two water-gatorade-mix bottles. At transition, I downed a Clif shot. I put on my race belt, my hat and my shoes. I racked my bike and I started to begin my last leg. Only. Only these lace locks were new to me and I had to re-tighten them twice out of inexperience. This probably cost me almost a minute in transition. But what the hell.

I started my run and, right away, there was a water station. I decided to skip it because I'd just drank a few gulps in transition. I didn't need any water. Or so I thought.

The transition from bike to run is always tough. Your body has to adjust to all this new stuff. And the sun was getting warmer. There were people cheering and I was high from my fast bike. That helped and I concentrated on deep breathing and a consistent pace. When people started to pass me, though, I struggled. Especially after getting used to being the "passer" from the bike. I had to resolve to being a pass-ee. It was my turn.

As I ran and concentrated on breathing, I also concentrated on the finish line across the lake. I knew I had three miles to go and seeing the finish line from the other side was motivating. I measured my remaining length and just concentrated on putting one leg right after the other.

A few times I told myself to pick up the pace, but it was hard. I was tired and beginning to get hot. I was also thirsty. Where was that water stop now? I told myself to keep going. I concentrated on the finish and I tried to guesstimate how much distance was left. A mile?

Of course, then I passed a marker and realized that I'd only run a mile. I still had two more to go. AND. And the run that I thought was just around the lake wasn't. Nope. There was a pin-hole turn that I didn't see from the start. We actually had to turn in a different direction, go down a length, turn around and then COME BACK to the trail. That finish line I was concentrating on minutes before suddenly seemed ages away.

Shit.

Luckily, a water stop came up just about the point that my buddy Julie passed me (I passed her on the bike leg). I tried to drink as much as I could but I found drinking out of a cup very difficult. And, because I'm stubborn, I refused to walk. I wanted to run the entire thing. So, I only got a few gulps down before I gave up and poured the rest over my head.

I don't know what else to say about the run except that it was the longest 3 miles I think I've ever traveled. For a girl that normally does 4 to 6 miles, I couldn't believe how eternal these 3 felt. I started to worry that my pace had dropped from my normal 10 mph speed. Women were passing me left and right. I felt slow. Yet I knew that in less than 2 miles, I was going to be done with my very first triathlon. That was the only thing that kept me going.

I'm in front. This is right before the pin-hole turn around.

Yeah! I'm doing okay. Peace!

After the annoying pin-hole turn and yet another water station that I dealt with exactly like the one before, a man yelled out, "Only .6 miles left!"

I knew the end was in site. It was close.

I picked up my pace and, the closer I got to finish, the more bystanders there were on the sidelines. I began to see women with medals (obviously women who had finished already). Strangers were calling my number. Telling me to pick it up. A woman passes me on the course.

"I just want you to know that I've been concentrating on your shirt. You've kept me going a long time," she says. And I beam with pride.

Of course, then she passes me. "I guess it is your turn to lead," I yell at her. And as much as I try to keep up, I can't. Oh well, I tried.

Still, the more and more people I pass, the more confident I grow. The finish line is getting bigger and bigger. Soon, there is James telling me to pick it up. To finish strong.

I have to be honest. I was beat at this point. But somehow. SOMEHOW. I found the strength to sprint the end. I ran so hard I wanted to puke. I can only imagine photos of me at the finish will have me looking like Phoebe from Friends. My arms were flailing. My mouth was open. But I was running as absolutely hard as I could. I even passed the lady who made the comment about my shirt! And my buddy Julie was there, at the end, waiting for me.

So many times, I almost broke down crying during the race. There were so many amazing women at such different levels completing a triathlon for the first very first time. Just like me. We were all doing something that once seemed incomprehensible. And, yet, there we were.

Cancer survivors. Obese women. Handicapped individuals.

Women in those circumstances standing right along the side of athletes and hard-bodies and fitness aficionados. And we all had the same gleam in our eyes because we all were sharing one goal. For one day. And I thought that was just so amazingly cool.

I am so thankful for how I did. For having such a positive experience. But I'm even more thankful for sharing it with those 2226 other women. They each brought their own unique perspective. And that's such an amazing energy to take in.

Finishing a triathlon was an amazing thing. But sharing the finish with the group that I did is what truly burns in my heart.

All I can say is that I'm thankful. I'm thankful to Danskin for putting on such an amazing event. I'm thankful for my husband for encouraging me through all my training. I'm thankful for my buddies who have ridden and swam and ran along side me both in real life and through the cyber world (Erin!). And I'm thankful to Julie for putting this idea in my head in the first place a year ago -- and actually flying out here so that I would follow through.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to you all!

I did it. I completed my first triathlon. And I'm so very proud.

What can I say now except when is the next one?

Julie and I at the finish. Who knew, 13 years later, that these once high school buddies, these CHEERLEADERS, would be triathlon-ing together and still sharing amazing, amazing experiences. Thanks, Jules. You inspire me.

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