The first wave takes off. Then the second. Then mine. That’s when things started to go awry. I wish I had read more of the posts on BT.
56
That’s the number on the back of my left calf as I got ready for my first triathlon. I was surprised that I wasn’t nervous at all. I had prepared, had reasonable expectations. I simply wanted to finish. I hadn't raced in more than a decade.
I had run marathons in my early 40’s and a few years ago my doctor said to cut it out, but triathlons would be OK. Well, I can swim, ride a bike, and run distance. I mountain bike once a week on a pretty hard course, and exercise as work permits.
I chose the Olympic distance as it did not seem too difficult. As I trained more, I kept getting injured. I have always trained hard. But with work getting more demanding, I would try to catch up. So I would either get injured training, or on the mountain somewhere.
Four years later, I still had not raced a triathlon. I decided that I should at least do a sprint. How tough could it be when I could already do the Olympic distance? I chatted with one of the folks from BT, and he said just commit and go. So I did.
For the previous 18 months, I had done no training. Travel was heavy, our company was acquired, etc. etc. etc. I had been getting ready for the Wildflower Olympic in 2007, and strained a calf muscle badly, and had to miss the race. Then I broke some ribs in a bike fall on a mountain. Then I broke some bones in my foot on another fall. (I really can ride a bike in a straight line). Lastly, I went anemic for some never diagnosed reason. But then I was OK, only I had added 15 lbs to a less-than-in-shape body. But I could still swim a mile, ride 40K, and run a 10K. Not fast, but I was OK with that.
I had nine weeks before the race, and a lot of work and travel. I am lucky enough to have a pool that’s 15 yards long, so when working from home I could put on the wetsuit and swim laps. I practiced getting the suit on with good arm movement for the swim, practiced getting it off quickly after swimming. Open water is tougher to find, but the week before the race, I was in Maine, and swam (in a wetsuit) a mile-a-day in open water (58 degrees).
Two weeks earlier, I drove the two hours to the race site and rode the course in a faster time than I expected. I hopped off the bike and did the run in a faster than expected time. OK. I did not get in the water. It looked cold and I needed to be back at work that day.
I was running out of time.
Race Day comes and I was up at 3:30am. Tires were checked on the bike - you know the drill.
I got there 30 minutes before packet pick-up. I strolled around, drank some coffee, used the toilets, just like the old days at the marathons. People were very, very nice. Cool. I got the packet and went to the assigned bike stall to set up. I have too much stuff. Next time its just the essentials.
With thirty minutes to go, I get into my wetsuit but can’t get the zipper moving. The guy next to me, a local, helps me. Folks on both sides couldn’t be nicer - especially when they hear it is my first. They are both in their 50’s, as well.
I stroll down to beach and hop into the ocean to swim around to get ready. The announcer has already let us know that it’s 55 degrees in the water. It is.
Fifteen minutes to the first wave. I stand around with my wave. The first wave takes off. Then the second. Then mine.
That’s when things started to go awry. I wish I had read more of the posts on BT.
I had never done a group start, and a couple of other things I hadn’t thought of. After getting kicked and pummeled in the standard scrum, I let the wave move forward then started swimming in the calmer water. The swim path was narrow because of rocks and surge, so I had to swim in the lane rather than finding quiet water to the outside. I couldn’t breathe deeply, I had some congestion and fatigue from a redeye flight from the east coast on Thursday night/Friday morning. The cold water gave me a bit of panic at the start. I kept trying to find my rhythm and calm down but I was now coughing as I swam, and just couldn’t get there. Swimming freestyle was not working so I switched to breaststroke. It was slower but I could cough and swim at the same time. The waves were five minutes apart and no one was catching me. I was even passing others.
By the time I get to the beach, some of the next wave has passed me, maybe 20 swimmers, but they were really moving. I was cold, and still pretty rattled from the start. I was five minutes longer than I expected for the swim.
I stagger up the ramp to the bike. Off with the wetsuit, on with shoes, shirt, helmet, glasses, and I grab the bike and go.
The 12.4 mile bike ride is all flat and along the shoreline. But my coughing, hacking and shallow breathing kept me off the aerobars, and added more time. By the end of the ride, I was really feeling it. I could not run the bike in so I walked it into the transition to get the socks and running shoes. I walked out of transition to start the run and I had a hard time even breaking into a jog and holding it together. I was just winded.
This is a short run. Before the turnaround, my back is cramped. My back? I never get cramps at all. I break things. So I walk a little ways to relax it, I start a slow jog, and then I cramp up more pretty quickly. I still have over a mile to go like this. The run is a complete disaster. OK, not complete, I finished, but I was pretty surprised at the race. It was not what I expected.
Now a week later I went out and ran five miles, no problem. I am starting to get on board with a plan to do a bunch of sprints next season to get used to them. The distance is good for what I am doing in the rest of my life right now.
Right after the race, I was pretty depressed. My results were what I expected, and I had kept my expectations low and I missed even those. So... give it some time, get back in the saddle, and do it again, and again, again. At least I have a personal time on that course which I should be able to beat next year.
The best thing was the people. Everyone, even those of us who weren’t having the best day, was friendly and supportive. Having run marathons, I knew it was not about a race or placement. I know it is about what each participant is doing in their own lives, committing and doing their best to carry out that commitment. I’ll be there again, and again, and I’ll get more out of it each time. See you there.
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First Tri - I should've read more BT posts
The first wave takes off. Then the second. Then mine. That’s when things started to go awry. I wish I had read more of the posts on BT.
56
That’s the number on the back of my left calf as I got ready for my first triathlon. I was surprised that I wasn’t nervous at all. I had prepared, had reasonable expectations. I simply wanted to finish. I hadn't raced in more than a decade.
I had run marathons in my early 40’s and a few years ago my doctor said to cut it out, but triathlons would be OK. Well, I can swim, ride a bike, and run distance. I mountain bike once a week on a pretty hard course, and exercise as work permits.
I chose the Olympic distance as it did not seem too difficult. As I trained more, I kept getting injured. I have always trained hard. But with work getting more demanding, I would try to catch up. So I would either get injured training, or on the mountain somewhere.
Four years later, I still had not raced a triathlon. I decided that I should at least do a sprint. How tough could it be when I could already do the Olympic distance? I chatted with one of the folks from BT, and he said just commit and go. So I did.
For the previous 18 months, I had done no training. Travel was heavy, our company was acquired, etc. etc. etc. I had been getting ready for the Wildflower Olympic in 2007, and strained a calf muscle badly, and had to miss the race. Then I broke some ribs in a bike fall on a mountain. Then I broke some bones in my foot on another fall. (I really can ride a bike in a straight line). Lastly, I went anemic for some never diagnosed reason. But then I was OK, only I had added 15 lbs to a less-than-in-shape body. But I could still swim a mile, ride 40K, and run a 10K. Not fast, but I was OK with that.
I had nine weeks before the race, and a lot of work and travel. I am lucky enough to have a pool that’s 15 yards long, so when working from home I could put on the wetsuit and swim laps. I practiced getting the suit on with good arm movement for the swim, practiced getting it off quickly after swimming. Open water is tougher to find, but the week before the race, I was in Maine, and swam (in a wetsuit) a mile-a-day in open water (58 degrees).
Two weeks earlier, I drove the two hours to the race site and rode the course in a faster time than I expected. I hopped off the bike and did the run in a faster than expected time. OK. I did not get in the water. It looked cold and I needed to be back at work that day.
I was running out of time.
Race Day comes and I was up at 3:30am. Tires were checked on the bike - you know the drill.
I got there 30 minutes before packet pick-up. I strolled around, drank some coffee, used the toilets, just like the old days at the marathons. People were very, very nice. Cool. I got the packet and went to the assigned bike stall to set up. I have too much stuff. Next time its just the essentials.
With thirty minutes to go, I get into my wetsuit but can’t get the zipper moving. The guy next to me, a local, helps me. Folks on both sides couldn’t be nicer - especially when they hear it is my first. They are both in their 50’s, as well.
I stroll down to beach and hop into the ocean to swim around to get ready. The announcer has already let us know that it’s 55 degrees in the water. It is.
Fifteen minutes to the first wave. I stand around with my wave. The first wave takes off. Then the second. Then mine.
That’s when things started to go awry. I wish I had read more of the posts on BT.
I had never done a group start, and a couple of other things I hadn’t thought of. After getting kicked and pummeled in the standard scrum, I let the wave move forward then started swimming in the calmer water. The swim path was narrow because of rocks and surge, so I had to swim in the lane rather than finding quiet water to the outside. I couldn’t breathe deeply, I had some congestion and fatigue from a redeye flight from the east coast on Thursday night/Friday morning. The cold water gave me a bit of panic at the start. I kept trying to find my rhythm and calm down but I was now coughing as I swam, and just couldn’t get there. Swimming freestyle was not working so I switched to breaststroke. It was slower but I could cough and swim at the same time. The waves were five minutes apart and no one was catching me. I was even passing others.
By the time I get to the beach, some of the next wave has passed me, maybe 20 swimmers, but they were really moving. I was cold, and still pretty rattled from the start. I was five minutes longer than I expected for the swim.
I stagger up the ramp to the bike. Off with the wetsuit, on with shoes, shirt, helmet, glasses, and I grab the bike and go.
The 12.4 mile bike ride is all flat and along the shoreline. But my coughing, hacking and shallow breathing kept me off the aerobars, and added more time. By the end of the ride, I was really feeling it. I could not run the bike in so I walked it into the transition to get the socks and running shoes. I walked out of transition to start the run and I had a hard time even breaking into a jog and holding it together. I was just winded.
This is a short run. Before the turnaround, my back is cramped. My back? I never get cramps at all. I break things. So I walk a little ways to relax it, I start a slow jog, and then I cramp up more pretty quickly. I still have over a mile to go like this. The run is a complete disaster. OK, not complete, I finished, but I was pretty surprised at the race. It was not what I expected.
Now a week later I went out and ran five miles, no problem. I am starting to get on board with a plan to do a bunch of sprints next season to get used to them. The distance is good for what I am doing in the rest of my life right now.
Right after the race, I was pretty depressed. My results were what I expected, and I had kept my expectations low and I missed even those. So... give it some time, get back in the saddle, and do it again, and again, again. At least I have a personal time on that course which I should be able to beat next year.
The best thing was the people. Everyone, even those of us who weren’t having the best day, was friendly and supportive. Having run marathons, I knew it was not about a race or placement. I know it is about what each participant is doing in their own lives, committing and doing their best to carry out that commitment. I’ll be there again, and again, and I’ll get more out of it each time. See you there.
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