As I stood there waiting for the horn to blast us off into the terror that was about to unfold in waist-deep water, I did my samaritan deed for the day. I told the unsuspecting dude to my left that he might want to get a little in front of me. He laughed and said he wasn't that fast. I said, "No, I'm making warm water, buddy...you might want to step ahead a little", and gave him a big toothy grin. Now he really laughed...but he scooted forward a few yards while doing so. Smart lad. Annnnd they're off! Kind of...everything went smooth until we got to the 1st buoy, and that's when the 1st of several thought better of swimming the rest of the course. I breathe to the left, by the way. I ingested enough water to supply me for an IM, but I kept swimming. As we rounded the 1st buoy, and I do mean WE - we were like a bunch of amoebas trying to infiltrate the same electron simultaneously, people started to panic. I don't mean they were having second thoughts, I mean there was some serious pandemonium. People hugging the buoys, people clamoring for kayaks, people holding on to ME. WTF? The look on the kayakers faces said it all. I put my head down and kept going. Bonk! Hit feet. Bonk! Hit more feet. Bonk! Look up...I see a wall of breast strokers 5 wide. Oh lawdy, help me get through them. So, I try to be a bowling ball and treat them like pins. I left the 7-10 split (bowling reference) and managed to get part way through them, and then they somehow swallowed me up. I burned a lot of energy (in what, 8 seconds? Zoiks!) and decided to do something I tell myself I will never do in the next race: Stop, wait for the slower swimmers to get a little ahead, then swim into them again. Rinse and repeat. I don't heart me for doing that, and I won't do it at the next race. Seems the thing to do is go around them. What a concept. Oh, I did manage to sight well. Well, if you don't count me endlessly swimming for the yellow buoy that never got closer...yeah, that was me (again) following someone with a yellow cap. I think they should ban yellow caps for OWS races, simply for this reason. If only I was 6 seconds faster...

Take the long way home, baby. Just go around the slower swimmers. Oh, and purchase, memorize and practice the O2 in H2O TI DVD.

Sabrina apparently watched me come out of the water and said I looked smooth until I got to my rack and...and...stopped. Not catching my breath, not admiring a hot tri-chick, not looking for a wayward GU...just catatonic. I am not sure what confused me about: Helmet on and buckled, sunglasses on, race belt on (Jack's requirement), but somehow all of that escaped me for a minute. I say a minute because that is how much extra time it took me before I had total consciousness again and was able to move on. For this effort in transition, I award myself one steaming hot cup of WTF? If only I was 6 seconds faster...

Not check out mentally while staring at my rack? Incidentally, I took the KISS principle to task here. In lieu of my usual transition duffle bag (great for longer races), you know what I used? I used the bag Esther gave me at packet pick-up. Yes I did. Everything I needed for T1 and T2 was in that nice little clear bag. Notwithstanding the fact that it made traversing the farm to transition that much less cumbersome, it really did simplify things. In theory, anyway.

I was a little pissed off at my swim (you'd never know it by looking at me though...this is supposed to be and IS fun for me), so I took it out on my as-yet-officially-named bike. The plan was to go with shoes on the bike, which turned out to be great and I will use this method going forward. I did not and will not be using any form of a flying mount. I don't do the flying mount for a couple of reasons, but mainly because I use the Adamo Racing saddle. If you know this creature, it resembles a salmon steak. It is short. One slight miscalculation, and you can guarantee yourself years of bow-legged jokes when you walk in a room, not to mention countless unsolicited invitations to join the Vienna Boys Choir. I ain't goin' that route. How is the popcorn? Okay, back to the bike. I took off and I guess due to my hydro-flogging performance in the vat of mosh that I just made my egress from, I decided to hammer the bike. Step on pedal/shoe at mount line, push off, swing leg over, pedal up to speed and then consider how I am going to get my feet INTO my shoes. Left foot, 1st try...DONE! Right foot, first try...a swwwwing and a miss! Take two....a swwwwwing and a miss! Take three...a swwwing and a miss! Nervous now, checking behind me and bike speed, which is oddly holding at 17mph. Nobody behind me, take four...a successful ingress! (hey, I used ingress and egress in the same race report...cool.) Pedal one revolution and grab strap on left shoe and get in all sitcheeated. Now to the problem child Mr. Right shoe. Strap.. oops, nooo...foot popped out. How can this happen?! %#%$!! Next try was successful and off I went. I didn't lose much time at all. That whole event took seconds as I was rolling down the course at 17mph+, but it seemed like an eternity. As I said, due to my lack-o-gills, I got behind a lot of people, consequently on my bike, I got to pass a lot of people. 60th out of 274 people is something I am proud of, considering the wind and it was my first race with my H3's. I lost count after 25 people passed, and I got passed by 4 people. When they passed me, they weren't screwing around...I mean they flew by me. Zoooom! I just admired their fortitude and bikes as they passed and stayed in my realm of ability. That works for me. I could have kept up with one or more of them possibly, but it would have rendered any kind of run afterwards an effort in comedy. I would have had a 2 mile walk instead of a 2 mile shuffle to look forward to, as it were. I look cooler shuffling (except when the race photographer is near, where I feign a running pose just long enough for the picture to be taken before my chest caves, shoulders droop, smile escapes me and gut peeks back out.) But, I digress. I made the U-turn and headed for T2. I got out of my shoes just dandy. I didn't do it two miles from transition, either {snickers}. Several people were stopped 10m from the dismount line, and I checked ahead of time and knew the red line was the dismount area.. so I cruised by the unclippers and hopped off and ran in one semi-smooth motion. It worked well for me. I did well on the bike, all things considered. If only I was 6 seconds faster...

Get Mr. Right shoe to cooperate on the first try. Other than that, I would have drank more. I didn't give it all I have, but my effort was very good.

I don't remember much of this transition, but that's probably due to the fact that it took 1/2 the time as T1 did. Giddyup.

Nottadamnthing. Anytime I go less than a minute in transition, hey...TOUCHDOWN, right? Right!

Well, didn't that just suck swamp-juice? It was supposed to be an out and back, but if you look to the right, you'll see I said out 5 times. Yes, that first "mile" seemed like it was 10 miles. I saw Aaron sitting down taking pictures of me as I ran by and shouted something to the effect of, "Let me know when you're lurking so I can smile next time, dude!" What actually came out was, "Let...when...so...dude..." Off I went, searching for the turnaround so I could bring it home. I just couldn't get to the turn around. I kept asking people if the turnaround was close, and I was either speaking in tongues by this point, or there was some secret handshake I didn't know to get the 4-1-1. Cramp in right calf. Not the ball-up-behind-the-kneecap cramp.. sort of like I got hit with a fastball in the upper outside calf. Weird. I stopped dead in my tracks to make sure it wasn't a pull. Nope, just a chance to HTFU. I kept going. I passed (they were on the way back) Ken, Brian and Tim.. asked each one of them if they had a sub 1 hour race in hand and got shrugs from Brian and Ken..Tim said he was going to come up a little short. Little did I know then how short I was going to come up. D'oh. I made it to the Oasis Finish Line (I call it that because there is still 2/10ths of a mile to go...and did what everyone else did.. hit the afterburners only to find out my tank was empty before the REAL finish line. I kept going and found some deep reserves for the last 100m or so, cheered on by a large BT contingent. That was way cool. Brian caught me and crutched me until my heart started to traverse it's way from my throat back to it's rightful thoracic resting place. If only I was 6 seconds faster...

Be 6 seconds faster? LMFAO.

I extolled my melancholy over my calf cramp on mile one of the run and everybody kind of rolled their eyes. I don't blame them. But, I do have larger than average calves, and when they have a mind of their own, like trying to relocate to a different part of my leg, it causes some speed issues. I am thinking of having calf-reduction surgery. Anyway, back to Tim's wife Sabrina, who is a gifted masseuse. She told me to lay down on the grass and she did a quick post-race massage of my legs. When she got to pesky calf and hit the knot, I twitched. She did it again, and I twitched again. There! She felt it! I had proof of my lame-ass excuse this time. I almost had her sign and notarize an affidavit confirming my malady, but I will keep that chip for later use. I am such a planner. Everyone gathered together and kibitzed while other racers finished. We had some BT'ers getting some hardware! It really is fun when 10 or more people you know are at the race and all have this wonderful site in common.


Honestly, I think HTFU is a trite expression, but I really could have done many things that would have got me to my aggressive goal of 59:59. One thing it does is gives me the impetus to take this course on next year and break that hour barrier. I think I might sign up for both races. heh


I don't really critique races because as in all things in life, they are what you make of them. I enjoy myself each and every time. Even though I bitched and moaned (mostly to myself) that I didn't bust an hour, I wouldn't trade the experience and enjoyment for anything. You only get one chance at life, make the most of it. The first photo below is, from left to right, me, Ken and Tim. The next photo of me on my bike is going to be purchased and blown up to an 18x24 glossy, minus the large PROOF lettering, of course. I am going to sign it and send it to Lance Armstrong. I am such a giver, am I not? Photo #3 is me, Brandt, Brian and Ken. Below those are me doing the flying dismount and then Sabrina helping get the hitch out of my giddyup. WHEW!
How was the popcorn?
:)