Year Of Awesome

Wow. Can’t believe it’s done. Over. Six months of training for an event that lasted a little over 3 hours. I almost feel cheated. But then again, I finished. And that was the original goal. To finish. I say original because after our last long distance run (8+ miles) I felt strong enough to shoot for an actual time goal. The night before the race I worked out timing for each leg plus the two transitions. For the swim I had 22 minutes. That was the time of my last river swim and I knew I could duplicate that no problem. I gave myself 5 minutes for each of the transitions knowing that was generous but allowing for the unexpected. For the bike I was shooting for a 1:30:00. That was significantly faster than what we had done in training but it was where I figured I could have the biggest impact in my overall time. For the run I gave myself an hour. I knew I’d be exhausted and would have to walk some but really thought it would be within reach. If everything went as planned I could get under 3 hours. The morning of the race I wrote in Sharpy on my forearms “I CAN” “I WILL”.

The Swim (1500 yards)

The week of the race I got very little sleep. Actually, at least two of the nights I imagined the full race in real time. Three hours laying in bed imaging every swim stroke, every hill climb, every turn on the run coarse, every element of the transitions. It was, to say the least, exhausting. Most of this anxiety was coming from the swim leg but the final river swim on the Tuesday before the race was solid and I felt if I could duplicate that then everything would be ok. As the race got closer, my anxiety turned to excitement and by the night before I was calm and collected and slept like a log. But reality set in on race morning as we made the 15 minute walk from the transition area to the swim entry point – I was about to do an Olympic-distance triathlon. My butterflies had butterflies. NIck and Jess seemed completely calm and confident. But rather than that being a comfort it only increased my anxiety. Both of them had done this before. They knew what to expect. They’re good swimmers. I was relying heavily on the strong current and the buoyancy of my wetsuit. The good news was I was in the “Try a Tri” swim wave which was the last to leave and I would be with other beginner swimmers. There were 17 of us – not too many, not too few. My goal was 22 minutes. But in reality, my goal was not to be the last one out of the water. It was clear after within just a few minutes after the gun I wasn’t going to be. I was able to keep with main group up until the last quarter of the leg and I started having trouble catching my breathe. I was relieved the “hard part” was almost over but the anxiety of the rest of the race began to sink in and I lost a little focus. When I hit the shore my watch read 00:20:36. Nice, already ahead of schedule.

Transition One

As I ran from the water to the transition area, stripping the wetsuit from my upper body and ecstatic the swim was over, I couldn’t help notice how heavy my legs felt already. Oh man, this was going to be a long 3 hours. I arrived at my bike to the cheers of a small but surprisingly loud crowd consisting of my lovely wife and kids and Nick and Jessica’s family. It sure was a nice feeling, particularly when there were so few bikes left. The good news is I had a lot of bunnies to chase. Confidently, I approached my setup, pushing my wetsuit down around my ankles as I had practiced in my training swims. The key is to get the legs of the suit as far down as possible and then pull one foot out while stepping on the suit with your other foot. It worked great in practice but not this time. As soon as I pulled my leg up, my calf seized up into what looked and felt like a softball. I screamed and cursed and dropped to the ground immediately yelling for a medic. People were talking to me but I don’t think I could respond. Besides the excruciating pain, all I could think about was that my race was over. Six months of training blowing away in the wind like fallen leaves. I kept yelling for a medic but none ever came. Valerie somehow managed to jump the barrier and proceeded to massage my calf which hurt worse but I knew it was my only chance of continuing. After a couple of seconds the muscle released and while I new I would feel it the rest of the race it seemed I could continue. I made it to my feet and prepped for the bike leg and with a sigh of relief I left transition one at exactly 00:05:00.

The Bike (25 miles)

Once on the bike, you immediately begin on a climb out to Century Drive. Nothing crazy but enough to make you go “Shit, here we go”.  Mary and Justin Yax were kind enough to lend me a very nice wheel set for the race. They were twice as light as my factory wheels and gave me a tenth gear. Which should have helped with the 1500 ft elevation gain. But being this was the first time I’d ridden with them and never haven swum a mile prior to a 25-mile bike ride I really didn’t perceive much benefit. My goal for the bike portion was 01:30:00 which was faster than I had accomplished before but was attainable in my head. And like I said I had a lot of people to chase. I finally felt I was at a good pace after about 2 miles out. With my focus on my new aero bar setup and maintaining a proper tuck position, the miles were flying by. I was 2/3 through the climb before I knew it and still felt great but knew that last 2 miles before the turn around were the most challenging. I started seeing quite a few riders actually walking their bikes which blew me away. The last couple of miles I found myself behind a girl who’s pace never wavered. It was amazing. Slow and methodical. Almost annoyingly so. But as much as I tried I couldn’t get past her. Until we made it to the turnaround that is. This is were it really gets fun. 12.5 miles back and speeds pushing 40 mph. More if you have the right equipment. And the right legs. Brakes are not allowed. You put it in the big ring and you pedal until you spinout and then you pedal faster. It’s a rush you won’t soon forget. And while I didn’t break any personal speed records I held my own and passed everyone I saw in front of me. I purposely held back a bit because I knew I need to save something for the run. It was already getting Texas hot and I had another hour of running to accomplish. But as I rode back into the transition area I felt really good. Confident I would not just finish but actually meet my time goal. Along the barricades I see my wife and kids cheering me on. I’m overwhelmed with emotion and seriously tear up. I’ve worked so hard to get here. To a place I never imagined myself. An accomplishment I never considered possible for someone as non-athletic as myself. As I dismounted, my watch said 01:35:00. Right on my projected time. Holy shit, I have this.

Transition Two

Park the bike. Drop the helmet and gloves. Switch to my running shoes. Down a Gatorade. I’m off. No complications or surprises. 00:03:10.

The Run (10k)

At this point, finishing in under 3 hours is completely realistic. I’m not cramping. I feel pretty hydrated. I’m gonna need to walk at some point but overall I’m good. The first mile sucks. It’s flippin’ hot. I already find myself walking. Encouraging words from other racers keeping me going. But I find myself running only is spurts. I get to the halfway point of the first loop and I’m exhausted. I have nothing in the tank. I’m 20 minutes in to my hour. Not good. I’m begging for the next aid station. I feel like I’m drinking too much. I’m going to be sloshy and then I won’t run at all. Three quarters of the way through the first loop I’m overwhelmed with frustration. Only a week earlier, I had had the run of my life. A run much more difficult than this. And this course is second nature to me. We’ve done this course a hundred times. I could do it in my sleep. But here I am completely failing. I finish the first loop on fumes. Passing Valerie and the kids I struggle to look strong but it takes everything I have to keep shuffling my feet. At the aid station I down another Gatorade and pour countless cups of water on my head and body to cool down. I get a surge of energy but it only lasts a moment. I walk mostly. At this point most of the racers are now celebrating in the Old Mill courtyard. It’s al I can think about. I feel alone. I haven’t seen another racer in a while. Am I the last one out here. There’s no way. I run a little and walk some more. My body doesn’t hurt. I just can’t breathe. I have nothing in the tank. I joke with the volunteers along the course to help spare me the embarrassing silence broken by their kind but worn out words of encouragement. “Great job”, “You’re doing great.”, ” Keep pushing.” Fuck off. I’m tired. I want this to be over. I’m at the halfway mark of the second loop and it’s already been an hour. Damn. OK. It’s all about finishing now. At this point that’s even in question. I’m walking more than running. But I see several folks behind me now and that lights a fire. I’m not the last. They will not be waiting on me. I can still do this. Finishing was my original goal and I will be happy with that. Would have loved to have even beat Nick’s time from last year of 03:07:00. But it’s not going to happen. Just finish. You can still call yourself a triathlete. And that’s one mother of a badge of honor. All at 41 years old. Forty years off nothing athletic at all. And then a triathlon. Yeah, I can be proud of that. Pretty sure it would make my dad proud if he was still here. As I approach the last 100 yards, I see my wife has written “I CAN. I WILL” on the run with chalk. I feel a shot of adrenalin course through my veins and I sprint to the finish. 01:18:41

My first triathlon was completed. And I felt great. I set a goal. I completed that goal. A goal most people won’t ever attempt. This skinny kid that was always the last one to get picked for teams has now joined the elite club of multi-sport athletes. Here’s a big middle finger to all those kids in grade school who rolled their eyes in disappointment when they had to take me for their stupid kickball team.

As I stood with friends in post race jubilee, though, I began to feel a little off. I was then overcome with dizziness and thought I might pass out. I was helped to the shade of a tent and given fluids and ice and salty snacks. I was severely dehydrated. The whole race I made a point to hydrate to the point of too much but I was way off in my attempt. With the help of some really good friends and trainers, and of course my wife, I was able to nurse myself back to health over the next couple of hours without needing an I V (though in hindsight I wish I had just done that to begin with – would have had a much quicker recovery). Clearly I have a lot to learn about my body’s needs when it comes to sports nutrition and hydration. If I continue with this madness that will be a top priority.

So, 6 months, 3 hours and 18 minutes later… now what?