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Comments: BOOOOOONG! The starting gong (only in Bali!) goes off and I wake up and bolt toward the water with everyone else. Surprisingly, I don't lose any ground on the sprint into the water and am soon swimming amid the lead pack. There's a surprising amount of jostling. The journey to the first buoy was pretty close to the worst I've ever felt in my life, and it was definitely the worst during a race (and I've done a marathon fresh out of the hospital). I've never seriously considered giving up during a race before, but all I could think of on that first leg was stopping and raising my hand for help. I told myself if I still wanted to die after rounding the buoy, I could cut out then. For wanting to die, I did a phenomenal job of sighting (never lost my rhythm or slowed down, just breathed at an angle to get a good look) and ploughed right for the buoy. I slice that buoy so sharp I probably made the course a couple meters shorter for anyone right behind me. So do I stop, or not? I have two people to thank for my continuance: the beatch and the breaststroker. Right after rounding the buoy, I swim straight into someone who's diagonal across my path, and while she ACTUALLY STOPS TO SAY, "Stop doing that!" I swim right by her. (Seriously? You're in the lead pack of a triathlon, you can't sight, you STOP, and you get upset because someone's tapping you, and likely people have been tapping you, like they've been tapping me, the whole time?) SUAS!!! Pain be damned. I am NOT going to let this (very accomplished but weaving) swimmer get by me. I can't help it: my inner bitch comes out during the swim. If you're that fast, learn how to sight, and be willing to fight to keep your place. I am NOT moving out of the way because YOU can't swim in a straight line. Be grateful I don't jab elbows during the catch phase anymore. But for you, I would not have continued, so I am grateful to you, too. And, after blowing by the beatch (okay, fine, I'm the beatch, I admit it), I take a breaststroke foot smack right to the face. WTF? I try to get around this guy, but ... he is bloody well doing breaststroke to match my freestyle! I don't know what's more annoying, that he keeps kicking me, or that he is breaststroking this race ... FAST! But thank you, too, sir, for now I am determined NOT to let a breaststroker beat me to the swim finish. I am indeed impressed that you kept up with me, booting some nice kicks to my ribs, all the way into the third leg of the swim. Lest you think I was (just merely) delirious, look at the video again. Unbelievable--that guy really is doing breaststroke that fast.  SWIM EXIT Apparently, I did make it out of the water top 10 ... so yay! However, the running-out-of-the-water-and-up-THAT-SAND-to-chip-swipe didn't go too quickly. And while the half-mile sand run went none too quickly either (during which pretty much all the rest of the swimmers passed me), I did RUN the whole damn thing this year. What would you do differently?: What, other than train and try not to be dying when I do this race?  Transition 1
Comments: This was an awesome T1. My best ever. I don't remember a thing about it. Oh wait! shockingly, for once, I racked my bike facing the correct direction to grab it and go (as opposed to having to run all the way around the racks and wheel it out the other side). What would you do differently?: T1? What T1?  Bike
Comments:  It's weird, and wonderful, to have bike pictures where I'm not packing rolls of fat (emphasized by being bent over). I did great on this bike course because I'm used to riding in Bali traffic and I'm a phenomenal bike handler. Frankly, the Sprint course this year was a disaster (and there were several disasters and near-disasters), but I also understand how difficult it was logistically to add the Sprint course. I'm very grateful they did. There are also much better plans afoot for next year--it's always a crapshoot the first time. This course is not exactly flat, the "road" surfaces aren't exactly uniform (cobblestones, Indonesian-style-KAPOW speedbumps ...), and there are a lot of tricky turns and intersections. It's still true that this is the best-staffed bike course ever. GAZILLIONS of official policemen, local policemen, and volunteers. Unfortunately, Balinese motorists (particularly motorcyclists) do not give a crap. I lost count of how many sped right through a cop holding up traffic for cyclists to go through, and I saw two cyclists slam right into motorcycles who did so. If you stop traffic here, motorcyclists will just swarm into the ONCOMING TRAFFIC lane to pass. They will just plough right on through the intersection. They will zoom into the CLEARED BIKE LANE to get ahead. At one point, a policeman waved another cyclist and I through to make a left turn, which we did after looking. However, we were peeling down the path when the cop started yelling at us and blowing his whistle. I looked back and he was frantically waving for us to return (he realized we were supposed to go straight instead). And it is a REALLY good thing I looked and did not obey his waving, because a huge rush of motorcycles blew by me right then. I don't fault the cop at all. Just remember--this is an open course. Act accordingly and you'll be fine. This is NOT the course to set speed records on. It IS the course to enjoy a one-of-a-kind adventure on! And as always, both motorists and spectators yelled encouragement. You WILL feel like a rock star during this race! I actually passed people (as in, plural!!!) on the bike. Miraculous! When I came in off the course to turn into transition, there was a HUGE block of traffic held up for us to go in--which would be fine, except for the usual motorcycles-breaking-out antics. I was screaming so loudly (and apparently, profanely), at the top of my lungs, in two languages, to let the motorcyclists know I was coming on up and through, thankyouverymuch, that Brennan (standing at entrance to transition) even heard me over the traffic and honking!  What would you do differently?: Train. Race minus dengue fever. Repeat. Transition 2
Comments: Wham bam thank you ma'am. Ran bike in, shoes 'n' helmet off, runnies on, go. What would you do differently?: Not throw my speedsuit on top of my race bib in T1 so that I can't see it and therefore forget to put it on in T2.  Run
Comments: I remember almost nothing of the run except really, really suffering. It's too bad: it's a really great run course, flat, no problems with traffic, beachside, through a local market, by a temple ... it's lovely. Usually (no matter how bad the run's going) I'm all smiles and waving at others and cheering them on. This time I stared at the road and pounded along (surprisingly, I walked very little. I just wanted this race to be OVER). The best I could manage was a few thumbs-up. Not to worry, though ... again, tons of spectators, and especially, the frequent aid stations with super-enthusiastic volunteers, cheered me on my way. Plenty of water, isotonic, and cold sponges. Super!  This is the first-ever race picture (and, in fact, instance in a race) where I actually do look like I'm RUNNING. I actually PASSED some people on the run, too, and that's never happened either. At one point I heard someone coming up behind me and then--"OOF! [thunk]"--down she went, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I immediately stopped and helped her back up, asking if she were okay. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she replied, "I actually stumbled because I recognized you!" And she, too, was one of the wonderful wuzzy people who read my race report and decided to do this race! Upon speaking with her after the race, we realized we had gone to the SAME SCHOOL--yes, the same one that was having a reunion! I immediately invited her to that afternoon's activities (a wrap-up/goodbye luncheon), and wow, she and her husband actually came, towing their suitcases as they were going straight to the airport afterward! I love this world. I love triathlon. I LOVE THIS RACE. I did, however, miss that group of kids cheering, "HEY! THE FAT ONE CAN DO IT!" But wait! There's more! Right near the end of the race, past the turn into Four Seasons Road by the beach, with less than 250m to go ... I was laughing so hard, cracking a smile for the first time on the run. A beautiful woman carrying one child and walking with another yelled out, "You can do it!!!" I grinned and retorted, "Thanks! I sure can! Carry your kid for ya?" She laughed and bent down to the little trotter by her side, saying, "Do you see that lady? She is doing such an amazing thing, and she's smiling!" Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And who can forget that WONDROUS once-again steeply-sloped soft-sand beach finish? I didn't think my next foot was ever going to lift out of the sand. Coming in for the finish, and clearly not a happy camper:  However, as I'm coming in, SuperWhit (also known as the Energizer Bunny) announces my name--CORRECTLY--TWICE!!! Whit, by the way, is a professional race announcer a la Mike Reilly and yes, he has announced Kona. He had his arm in a CAST and SLING and still did unbelievable announcing all day.  What would you do differently?: Don't. Race. Recovering. From. DENGUE FEVER. On the off-chance ANYBODY is as stupid as I am and considering it ... don't. Post race
Warm down: THIS is a Class A (like everything else about the race) finish line. Bottle o' water, cold towel, army of volunteers. Darling Miss BFF Melida, who let me trash her house that weekend as only a triathlete can, is screaming for me at the finish line, and then accompanies me to the water and holds all my stuff as I prostrate myself in the blessedly cool waves. She's also towed a bag of clean clothes in for me AND remembered to include sunblock and deodorant. I love this woman!!! The post-race buffet is stupendous. Four kinds of juices. Tea. Coffee. All kinds of cakes and pastries. Tons of fresh fruit. GROOOOAAAAN. I think I ate four chocolate croissants.  The post-race party/expo is a fantastic place to hang out for friends, family, and finishing athletes. Awesome reggae band, tons of booths and schwag, amazing food from Hard Rock Cafe and Haagen Dazs at a nominal price ... it's just ... WOW. The massages are provided by Bali's finest spa (Dancing Thumbs), staffed by some SERIOUS PIGLETS (male therapists only). The massages are LONG and SUMPTUOUS. I had TWO MAJOR PIGLETS working on me, with Jack Daniels heckling me in the background (I invite him to make it THREE piglets working on me ...) Andreas Kansil, the Indonesian race director, noticed I had no medal and was horrified ... he personally ran off to get me a medal and put it around my neck. I asked the volunteer piglets at the race booth, how much for an extra T-shirt and a visor? They smiled at me and just handed them over. While I was sitting at one of the (many) tables and chairs available for lounging, the FINEST TRIATHLETE PIGLET EVER comes up and asks if he can sit next to me. He's wearing no top but for a heart-rate-monitor strap :) ... drool ... I'm sorry, I don't remember your name ... distracted ... and all the more a shame for the kindest words you said to me: "Hey, I saw you out there on the course ... you looked incredible ... you're what triathlon means, and you make the triathlon world proud." I forgot to say, "I love you." After I watched all my friends come in from the Olympic course, I jumped ship to go to--you guessed it--the final event of my high school reunion. I arrived with cheers and a standing ovation coming from all. They couldn't believe I did the tri as sick as I was--AND still showed up to the reunion activities! Please note the proliferation of bacon on my plate. I ate 14-16 pieces of bacon. This is very important.  And these wonderful piglets are going to either do or jockstrap my tris next year. I went back to Melida's place, crashed for a couple hours, and then ... I can't believe I was still able to be upright at this point ... drove to the race wrap-up (beer and ice cream, served by Brennan!) So many wonderful people chatting, looking at photos, and rehashing warm memories of the race! And dear, dear Robyn (she's one of the world's fastest in her age group) from Darwin ... we have big plans, and Richard Sam Bera (Indonesia's Olympic star swimmer) will help. We WILL get Indonesian triathletes and Indonesia affiliated with the ITU. We WILL get them coached and trained. Indonesia WILL be representing triathlon in the Arafura Games, and hopefully soon after, the other major international competitions. I love these people. I love this sport. I love this country, and I LOVE THIS RACE. And afterwards ... I had an unbelievable, pigfest fresh-seafood beach dinner with Whit (the race announcer) and a girl who'd come in from SIBERIA to do this race. We PIGGED OUT and had tons of comestibles and libation and the bill came to ... wait for it ... $10 each. Finally, home at my sister's. Shockingly, I remember to wash my HORRENDOUS race gear in soap and vinegar, and here they are hoping to dry out, as if an offering to the temple tri gods (that's my sister's temple in the background).  Unfortunately ... my $600 custom orthotics wound up being an offering to her oversized, overmouthed, way, way, overstepped-the-boundary Argentine dogo. This race report always does, after all, end with a dog. Here is Paco eating a tree that he helped himself to from the backyard. He's much bigger now.  What limited your ability to perform faster: Given that under trained, good circumstances I might have expected to come in 1:45, the fact that I came in under 2:00 is stupendous. I didn't expect to beat the Oly finishers in, either, but I did. If I haven't said it enough already ... wait, nah, I have. :) Event comments: If I could rate this race higher than 5/5, I would. This is a rock star race where you get rock star treatment, and yet it's as friendly as the neighborhood barbecue. Nicer people, from the newest newbie to the amazing volunteers to the race directors, don't exist. It's set in paradise. Free awesome activities and parties and food happen all weekend long. If this race charged double its fees, it still would be the best bang for the buck. Oh, and it's only $45 to download all-your-race-photos ... there were EIGHTEEN great shots of me this year, for a little sprint tri!!! In almost any respect, you will not find a better race. On the one hand, this is a blisteringly competitive triathlon. Remember that Kona qualifiers may barely place in their age group. Olympic swimmers may not come in top three on the swim. On the other hand, especially with the addition of the sprint, this is one of the most newbie-friendly triathlons around. This is a triathlon for everyone ... even the poets. And the 5K fun run is a great run, or walk, or even stroll, for even the most fitness-averse folks. In short (FINALLY! something short!), this is still, far and away, the world's best triathlon. Okay. Enough about them. Now about me. I'm giving you the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to save poor Third-world orphans AND help me achieve my Iron dream. Twice, I've signed up for Ironman triathlons, got into training, and then was not able to do them. I have a window now where I really believe it's time. The impossible is now :) ... and I need you. For every dollar you contribute, 60% goes to a Balinese orphanage for girls (yes! pics!) The remainder is to help defray training, travel and gear costs for the Iron triathlon. I am paying most of my own way (and remember, I earn in Indonesian rupiah, so this is a toughie), but I just need the extra bit of help. If this were a U.S. charity, it would be remarkable that 60% of your contribution would actually go to direct services for the orphans (at least 40% would be overhead). Here in Indonesia, it costs nearly nothing (comparatively) to run an orphanage. So not only is that 60% a great proportion--it buys SO MUCH. It only costs U.S. $10 to pay caretakers, clothe, shelter, feed, educate, and train one of these girls ... PER WEEK. In addition to attending school, the girls are given a useful, income-generating trade. The girls pictured here perform traditional Balinese dances for festivities and events, and they are GOOD. They performed at my high school reunion.  Me and the legacy scholars (we went to the school K-12) pose in front of the girls. (Yes, that's my sister, and Melida BFF).  To contribute, please click the following: it will take you to my blog, and there is a Donation button on the left, under the title and the name of the iron race. Save Orphans and Iron Yanti! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!! Last updated: 2010-06-24 12:00 AM
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Indonesia
93F / 34C
Sunny
Overall Rank = 41/56
Age Group = F 30-39
Age Group Rank = 10/16
WARNING/AWAS! THERE HAS BEEN REPEATED SERIOUS DISREGARD FOR ATHLETE SAFETY AND NEEDS ON THIS COURSE IN PRIOR YEARS WHICH HAS NOT BEEN ADDRESSED AND RESULTED IN NUMEROUS ATHLETES INJURED OR UNABLE TO FINISH THE RACE. TAKE CAUTION IN SIGNING UP FOR THIS RACE UNTIL ORGANISERS HAVE PUBLISHED SPECIFIC AND DETAILED INFORMATION ABOUT CORRECTING THESE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEMS.
AWESOME RACE VIDEO (featuring a race-course bike cam!) I DARE you to watch this video and not be raring to go to this race: Bali Tri Video
(Of course I'm in the video. Multiple times.)
For information about Bali International Triathlon in general (or the Olympic distance), click here for a much better race report. For the juicy race bits, scroll WAY down.
CHECK OUT THAT PHOTO!!! This is still the world's most amazing race. I even refused to let dengue fever stop me from participating (although I did spare the race directors, whom I love, from the hideousness of my possibly dying on the course by doing the Sprint instead of the Olympic).
To those I promised this race report wouldn't be epic: I lied.
epic race = endless report
No, it won't be as pretty or remarkable as last year's: I was still ill, I had no sherpas, no one to take pictures for me, and I had another major series of events that weekend, too. But I won't disappoint: somehow I've still managed to make this report EVEN LONGER than last year's!!!
I come to on Thursday from the dengue. Friday morning I pass on the group ride, but am there for the bike and group blessing!
This is Anthony piglet of Generic Events in L.A., who dressed me in a sarong and sacred sash for the blessing (as I exclaimed loudly, "I LOVE IT WHEN BEAUTIFUL MEN DRESS ME!") Interestingly enough, he also offered to un-dress me later. What a gentleman!
AND LOOK WHO I GOT TO MELON-PRESS ... this is Kyle piglet, whose LEGS I SHAVED way back when ... we were dear old schoolmates and swam together.
Can you find Kyle and Yanti Waldo? No? Okay, he's top left and I'm bottom right, and Melida, my 30-years-BFF and finish-line cheerleader, is smack-dab in the middle. Just how we like it.
Here is the priest, waiting patiently for the athletes to gather so he may send us, collectively, to our doom. BWAH HA HA HA!
The bike course is open, amid Indonesian traffic, so I strongly suggest taking part in the blessing ceremonies.
Woven-banana-leaf personal offering boxes and hanging ornaments for bikes being blessed. I almost cropped the guy in the leopard tights out, but that's what gives this picture ... and this race ... character. (After all, a guy in Spiderman tights was first out of the water).
Sprinkling us with holy water using a frangipani blossom. The guy next to me started freaking out and foaming at the mouth when he got doused. Oh wait, that's just how Kyle is normally. Carry on.
The bikes get baptized, too, and have little offerings tied to them.
The women then press rice grains onto our foreheads. I am sure they are deeply symbolic and very lucky, but also, should you run out of race nutrition ...
We are also led in a group meditation; we each have our own little offering baskets with flowers and we get to throw flowers around while the priests chant incantations and ring bells and, well, bless everyone and everything to do with the race.
It works, it really does.
The yummiest piglet with piercing blue eyes (yes, you, Gunther!) kept staring at me during the ceremony. Hm? Afterwards, he came up with two other piglets and introduced himself--it's my Macao fan club!!! Who knew? "We read your blog!" they exclaimed. (I'm thinking, UH OH). "You inspired us to do triathlon!" (Double UH OH). I want you guys to know: YOU MADE THIS RACE FOR ME, especially seeing you guys out on the course, and finishing. CONGRATULATIONS!!!
I was deeply humbled by, and lost count of, the number of people from all over the globe who came up to me and said last year's race report is what inspired them to sign up for this tri--almost all as their first triathlon. THANK YOU. Thank you for reading the report, thank you for coming to race, and thank you for taking the time to come talk to me and tell me so.
I checked back on last year's RR and it garnered well over 2000 views.
(BRENNAN. Take note. I want my cut ;) )
Friday afternoon was the group swim, which I would have dearly liked to make as I do every year, but I needed to go earn some money at my psychic job. Then Friday evening, the cocktail party.
Set in its usual splendiferous seaside villa with lanterns aglow, they also played the DVD of last year's race on a big screen. Along with the morning's bike blessing, it was a cheerful reunion with old friends and meeting several new ones.
Including a most debonair Irishman. Far be it from me to attend this cocktail party without saying something completely inappropriate to someone I've just met. My last year's faux pas (the famous Olympic swimmer Richard Sam Bera, whom I asked if he were related to that famous swimmer ...) introduced me to this year's:
So of course I looked him straight in the eye and exclaimed, "I love you!"
Richard (trying very hard not to laugh) explained that John O'Sullivan is the General Manager of Bali's (uber-swanky) Four Seasons resort, which sponsors the tri.
Well, I do make an impression. And dear gracious John became a fast friend, wishing me well then, at the next day's pre-race banquet, AND right before the triathlon start. He is a kissy fellow! And he has gone completely Balinese native. He wears long sleeves in the tropics, for goodness' sakes!
And, because I'm cheerfully well beyond insane, I zoomed out of the cocktail party and straight to the first event of ... my high school reunion!
Here's Craig piglet, myself, and Melida Finish Line Sherpa High School Swim Team BFF. (You haven't forgotten Melida already, have you?) We are also the island's most formidable pub trivia competitors.
I am sure you cannot possibly imagine who, in this group finishers' photo of my very first multisport event (400m swim, 5K run), Melida and I are.
Late Friday night my boyfriend was available, so I suppose this race follows the great tradition of the Yanti quadrathlon. However, he is now my EX boyfriend (as he claims to be allergic to me!), so I earnestly renew my marriage offer for next year's Bali Tri. (Yes, you! Why not?)
Fast-forward to Saturday (there's an easy group run today, too, but I'm opting into keeping every last bit of spare energy I can before the race). We're at the athletes' banquet, and if you want pretty pictures of the linens, glassware, silverware, sumptuous buffet ... go to last year's report. :)
POEM: THE TRIATHLETE
At what other triathlon is poetry in two languages featured in the race handbook and recited at the race briefing? (Penned by none other than our dear Irishman, John O'Sullivan, to whom I declared undying love before even disclosing my name).
Again, the race directors personally field your questions and go above and beyond to help you with any issues before tomorrow's race.
By the way, bike mechanics are on site all Friday and all Saturday (and very early before and throughout the race Sunday) ... I love those guys. You will nowhere get your bike serviced so well, and so cheaply!
I had them clean and lube the chain and gears, check the brakes and gears, and pump the tyres.
They refused to charge me. (Okay, they will probably charge you. And they really should charge me. And though the minimum charge this year has gone up to $5 ... that's just RIDICULOUSLY low. In any case, I left them a huge tip).
And, in my Yantinsanity, I snork down what I can of the Four-Seasons-catered buffet, then rush off to the main banquet for my high school reunion!
I won a towel for being the youngest Dragon (high school mascot) there. :) Pweez tell me I don't look 34! Pweez! How useful, a transition towel! (How did they know I'd forgotten?) I promptly went to sleep on it.
This is to prove that I was, in fact, dancing the night before the triathlon (with Melida, of course).
I had told Brennan (race director) and others that (especially considering no training, dengue fever, extreme idiocy) my only goal was to come out of the water top 10 and then I didn't care what happened (would be nice to finish, though). I ordered a cappuccino at my high school reunion, and here arrives the LOVELIEST coffee I've ever had:
A most delightful omen, I think!
Melida and I headed home (she was generously housing me near the triathlon site, no small matter if you know what triathletes in general and me in specific can do to a room pre- and post-race) around midnight. I was slaughtered. This is the first race for which I've done NO pre-race prep. Bike, race packet, numbers, chip, everything stayed right in the envelope in the car, water bottles, you name it. Too tired.
I pass out in a deep sleep and wake up at 4 a.m., wanting nothing so much as to sleep more, or really, do anything NOT involving a triathlon. I don't remember much about getting ready, except slathering tons of sunblock on (to no avail; I got fried anyway), not brushing my teeth (too tired. No time), grabbing whatever little in the room might be helpful for the race, and slithering into my car.
You know how they say, "Nothing new on race day?" Well, I did a lot of firsts today. For one thing, I've never been so close to a race site, nor driven myself, by myself, there. (Yanti grows up ... awwww).
I'm wearing a new tri top (note to self: CUT TAGS OUT BEFORE RACE). I haven't tried my tri shorts or speedsuit on since last year's race. I've somehow forgotten socks, so it's going to be naked-foot. Bring it on :). I ate half a Pria Bar for breakfast (THANK YOU JEN!!!) and a cup of milky coffee, and surprisingly, all I had during the race (other than water) was half a bike bottle of Powerade Isotonik (thank you, Powerade Isotonik. Always remember to thank your sponsor, and the volunteers).
Shockingly, I was also the first car and participant to arrive at transition. That has NEVER happened (I'm always blowing in at the last minute), and it will never happen again.
As I'm driving to the far end of the parking lot, THAT GUY is coming at me. WTF is he doing at the race? I'm talking about THAT GUY riding on a motorbike, no helmet, down the wrong side of the street, no lights, talking on a cell phone.
Oh, it's Brennan.(The race director). To his credit, unlike THAT GUY, he was not also smoking a cigarette at the time.
So I sleepily pull all my stuff out of the car, randomly jamming stuff into my transition backpack, yawn, and shuffle over to transition.
This is the best, most efficient, prettiest, roomiest (but not too big) transition area ever. It comes at a somewhat hideous price in the form of a half-mile run on coral-studded, soft, very sloped sand, but ... there have been worse paths from the swim to T1, in the history of triathlon, somewhere, sometime, at least once, I'm sure.
I do think the killer transition area (slightly) outweighs the shyty run to get to it.
I attach race numbers to things, and try to set up my transition area methodically, but am lacking a brain (clearly, for even doing this race in the first place). Something just isn't right. I keep staring at it.
Oh, RUNNING SHOES. To be fair, I would have done this race barefoot, because it's awesome like that and I'm (really) crazy like that. However, I trot back to my car and dig my moldy, unlaced running shoes out from under the rear seat.
At least I remembered them, and remembered to lace them, and even remembered to leave them UNTIED.
I look at my transition space, yawn, shrug, and wander off to the shuttles. This has got to be the most laid-back approach to a race I've ever taken, and (but for a few hiccups) it went smashingly. I must remember not to prepare, and remember to forget things, for every race.
A few people are waiting, as are several shuttles, but none of the drivers seem to be in a hurry (despite that the sprint starts in less than half an hour). I yawn, shrug, and sit down on the stoop. But I am staring down at my body, for something seems amiss.
Oh! The speedsuit! I waddle back to transition and get it, and while we're still waiting, put it on.
I stare at my wrists. Something is still missing.
OH! MY TIMING CHIP!
All these laps back and forth from the parking lot to transition are SERIOUSLY extending my race exertion. I should have just done the Olympic.
Anyhow, less than 15 minutes before race start and still, nobody is in any hurry to go. (That's shaving it close, even for me). So I start threatening to drive the bus myself, and open the door to the driver's seat, and a driver does start ambling over. But he still wants to wait for more passengers! I grab a volunteer (this race is STUPENDOUSLY well-staffed), who tells the driver to get a move on it. Finally, we go.
I get to race site just in time to float around and pee in the water before getting right back out and lining up for the mass start. I will say that once again, a gazillion people, including the race sponsors and directors, all took the time to personally wish me luck. This is the friendliest race ever. Brennan took the time to send me this pre-race pic!
The (one) advantage of doing a race when you're really sick and in no shape to do it is that you just don't care. No butterflies, no anxiety, no hyperventilating ... I'm grinning like a fool, happy to be there and part of it all.