Cowichan Challenge Triathlon - TriathlonSprint

We started at the back of the pack and far to the side. I say "we" because James was swimming with me, which was great of him. At the start, everyone pretty much took off and I just kind of put my face in and tried to start slowly. Within the first 100 meters I panicked a couple of times and hyperventilated. We had been left behind by literally every other swimmer out there, and there were two kayaks behind us, presumably waiting for me to drown. ;) I was actually annoyed, not comforted, by their presence. I wanted them to just go away and leave me alone so I could sort it out. Of course, I know they couldn't do that, but the whole thing was so uncomfortable and, well, embarassing really. About a third of the way to the first buoy I started to cry. My goggles were leaking anyway so it didn't really matter. I can't really explain the feeling...it just felt so wrong to be there trying to swim. Everything in my body was saying, "Stop it!!" James offered to turn back with me and swim back to the beach, but I just couldn't do that. As much as I hated being there in that moment, and as much as I was overwhelmed by how much farther I still had to swim, there was no way I was going to quit. Especially not that early in the race.

After we rounded the first buoy and started to swim across the lake, I had to stop again. I just felt so panicked and was having a lot of trouble breathing. At this point, I gave myself a little butt-kicking. I thought, yes, this is probably the most uncomfortable thing I have ever chosen to do. Yes, I hate it. But the sooner I put my face down and swim, the sooner this whole experience will be over. I'm out in the middle of the lake and there is nothing I can do at this point but just get it the heck over with as quickly as possible. So that is what I did. About that time, the people doing the shorter event, who started 20 minutes after we did, began to pass us. I wasn't at all bothered by people swimming past me and in between James and I. I actually liked having other people around. It was just sad that their caps were green but mine was yellow.

I wasn't the very last person out of the water, but I was pretty darn close. I think there may have been two people behind me. I swam right up to the beach like we did in practice, then stood up, moved my mask up, and started to take off my wetsuit. I did see lots of other people trying to wade through the water while removing their suits, and it looked much harder than swimming. I remember looking at my watch to hit the "split" button when I came out of the water, and my heart rate was 177. I was not feeling good. I said bye to James and walked to my transition area.

I don't know. I'm not sure if doing anything different would have helped. One thing did help, though, and that was having James with me. I felt kinda guilty that he was sacrificing his own race to stay with me, but I really needed him.

This transition was okay. Pretty much everyone had already left on their bikes by the time I got there, so I had no trouble finding my spot. It took me a while to get my wetsuit off, but I was really in no hurry. I knew my heart rate was already high, so I was just taking my time. I figured that, with such a slow, crappy swim, there was no point in hurrying through transition. I was also quite dizzy after swimming, so I needed to let that go away before getting on my bike.

Nothing.

After the swim, I felt like I had no energy or willpower left for the rest of the race. The last thing I wanted to do was get on my bike. My legs felt okay, but I just couldn't push myself. James had said that the bike course was two loops, and I didn't check the course map myself, so I spent a good part of the ride wondering if I was even on the right road. It didn't help that I didn't see a single other cyclist until about 20k in. Well, that's not entirely true. As I was heading out on the bike course, I saw some people coming into the finish. I also blew by a bunch of people right at the beginning, only to watch them turn around almost immediately as they were doing the shorter event. Damn green-capped people strike again!

Let's just say that biking was pretty miserable. I SO did not want to be there. All kinds of things were going through my mind. At one point I actually thought, "If I crash, does that mean I can go home early?" ;) Around that time, I passed a little kid riding his bike on the street. He looked up at me, probably thinking what a sad cyclist I was, and he said, "Good work." That gave me a momentary boost. A bit farther down the road, I thought I saw an aid station, but it was actually a lemonade stand, which was both funny and crushing because the sign that I was actually still in the race was merely a mirage.

I was so desperate to see someone else on the course that when I finally did come upon a woman cyclist who seemed to be struggling, I took my time passing her. I just didn't want to be alone again. About 5k from the end, I came upon another woman, and I stayed behind her until the final hill of the course. I was not at all motivated to go any faster and I was glad not to be a solitary rider.

I took two gels on the bike: one about 10 minutes in, and one about 10 minutes before the end. The second one had caffeine. I also drank one bottle of E-load.

This is a tough one. I know I could have done more physically, but I feel like I spent all my motivation on the swim. It was hard enough just to keep moving. I definitely should have looked at the course map beforehand...duh.

When I came in for T2, I found my transition area ransacked. My stuff had been scattered all over the place. I wasn't too concerned about it, except that my race number was missing. I had set up my transition area very carefully, with my race belt underneath my running shoes so it wouldn't blow away, and yet it was nowhere to be found. It turns out that my friend Erin who had racked her bike beside mine had accidentally taken my number for the run. This was quite confusing for me, and my brain was definitely not working very well. Luckily some race officials and my wonderful coach came over to help. I ended up taking Erin's number and the timing people worked everything out. I wasn't upset at all about the mix-up, just utterly confused. Your brain really does shut down sometimes! The most annoying thing about the whole incident was that Erin hadn't attached her number to her belt very nicely. It was all twisted and messy and I had to fix it before putting it on. A volunteer at the run exit barked at me to just put it on and go and to fix it later, and I happily ignored her. I don't think she understood how nice it felt to be in control of one tiny little thing at that moment, like the orderliness of a race belt. Needless to say, it was a very long transition.

Dunno. Rack by someone more organized? ;)

Starting the run was a little difficult, as usual after biking, but not too bad. I think the bricks in training have really helped. The wobbly leg feeling seems normal and goes away pretty quickly now. The worst part was, again, the mental challenge. Once I got onto the trail, though, I actually enjoyed the run somewhat. I passed a woman at the beginning of the first loop, and was passed by some people completing their second loop. I had some water at the aid station and walked up the steep hills. I wavered between trying to enjoy the trail and wanting to crawl under a rock. I really thought the day was just never going to end.

A wonderful volunteer had set up his SUV along the trail and was playing oldies, and hearing the music as I went by made me happy. The second loop was better than the first. The absolute worst part was running off the trail back toward the start/finish, and seeing tons of people walking to their cars with their bikes. Many of them said nice, encouraging things, but I just wanted to punch them in the face. I appreciated the sentiment and everything, but I just felt ridiculous. Getting encouragement from people who had finished an hour earlier was mostly just humiliating. It's funny how, when you're having a good day, the cheering is great and makes you happy. But when you're having a bad day, and when it seems like you actually need encouragement, you just want everyone to go away and leave you alone so you can finish your struggle in peace.

I took a caffeinated gel somewhere on the first loop, mostly just for posterity. I know that, in training, if I start to get grouchy it's because I need some calories. I don't think that was the problem this time.

As I left the trail and started toward the finish line, I saw Jan and Erin and Rhianna heading back to the parking lot. They stopped on the side of the road to cheer for me, which was really nice of them, but it made me feel bad. I wanted to cry, but I tried not to. I ran through the finish, saw James, and was ready to go home.

I'm not sure. I really tried to have a good attitude and to enjoy my surroundings. I don't think I had a particularly bad attitude, but I just had no joy left. The swim had sucked it out of me, and the bike was pretty unpleasant. I just focused on moving forward, and that's pretty much all I had the energy to do.

I didn't do a warm-down per se. I just packed up my stuff and headed home with James. He had a tough race, too, and we both wanted to get out of there.


Comfort with open-water swimming.


This was a very tough race for me. I really struggled on the swim, and it took so much willpower and determination to get through it that I wasn't really sure I could do the rest of the race. But I did. I don't know what the motivating factor was, but I'm really happy to have finished. Finishing (almost) last is certainly better than not finishing at all.

During the race, I thought a lot about Ironman. My confidence is shaken, and I'm wondering now how I'll ever be able to do it. I know it must take so much mind control in order to complete a race like that. If 1000m of swimming uses up all of my brain power, how will I ever cope with a race of that distance?

I am proud of myself for finishing the race. I hope that eventually it will be a source of motivation for me, when I can look back and think how hard it was and how I toughed it out. I have also realized just how important the mental aspect of training is, and I will make sure that it is not neglected as I continue to swim, bike, and run.