Well, here we go. Swimming is probably my best event, but this being my first tri, I didn’t want to push it at all. I just wanted to get through and have an enjoyable swim out in that pretty lake.

The swim was set up so that two people entered the water every five seconds or so, based on predicted swim time. How nice not to have to experience the washing machine at my first tri! I seeded myself in the 6:00 - 6:30 group and chatted with the women around me as we waited in line, which moved much faster than I thought it would. Still wasn’t nervous, though. My boyfriend came up and gave me a kiss, and I told him how excited I was. We were both shocked that I wasn’t freaking out.

As I stood at the timing mat waiting to get the go-ahead, I was still waiting for my stomach to go haywire on me. But aside from the tiniest little flutter, it was fine. And my heart wasn't pounding, either. When I finally realized once and for all that nerves weren’t going to get the best of me, it felt like the hardest part of the race was already over.

At the last minute, I realized I had forgotten to spit in my goggles... whoops. Took care of that. Then it was me up on the mat and it was time to go!

You wouldn’t know it from my pitiful pace, but I ended up passing many women. I wasn’t pushing myself to go fast but I was doing a really good job of sighting and holding my line. My boyfriend said that the other ladies zigzagged quite a bit.

I did end up kicking too much, like I always do at the beginning of swims, and my breathing got a little gaspy. I normally go with straight bilateral breathing, but switched over to a 3-2-3-2 pattern to try to get my breath under control. At one point I realized I wasn’t exhaling fully, so I worked on that, and my breathing felt much better after. I kept getting nervous and taking unnecessary breaststroke breaks, which slowed me down a lot.

The swim felt like it was over before it even started. My boyfriend was right there by the beach as I exited, taking pictures and cheering me on. I hoped I had made him proud.


Exhale fully. Trust my line and my swimming ability and don't take so many breaststroke breaks. And push it like I know I can (this is supposed to be my strong suit).

I was shocked that all the bikes were still around me in the transition area. Had I actually finished ahead of other people?!

Well, whatever advantage I had was soon erased by my piss-poor T1 performance. I took FOREVER, and I know exactly why. First, I have to wear compression sleeves on my calves because of shin splints. The ones I have are neoprene and it was hard getting them up my damp legs.

Second, for whatever reason, the laces were pulled out of the top eyelets of one of my shoes. This NEVER happens to me. I had been so careful about my transition area -- like a little nerd I had made lists and diagrams, memorized the order I was going to do everything, and quadruple checked my bag -- but didn’t even think to make sure that something as simple as my shoes being laced up all the way was in place. They haven’t come unlaced in one year of using them. Today? Really?! I couldn’t make my hands work properly to get them laced. Probably lost an entire minute doing that. Get it together woman... geez!

Needless to say, quite a few of those bikes around me had left by the time I was finished. Sigh.

Get Yankz, or at least check your shoes next time. Stop needing to wear calf sleeves or practice putting them on damp legs. Move faster!

Dum dum dum. It was time for the bike. Maybe my fumbling in T1 was just subconscious dread of the event that awaited me. I was almost sad to leave the transition area... surely there was something I could sit around doing rather than getting on those dreaded gently rolling hills, right? I wasted yet more time stopping behind some other women and then fumbling my foot into my toe clip. I could have just started riding on flat pedals and flipped my feet into the them.

But once I got going, the bike felt really good. I could still feel the wheel hitting a little bit, but a hit is different than a long rub. The LBS had trued out the majority of the warp and I had adjusted the brake enough to work but not rub. My legs thanked both us profusely. I passed two bikes right off the bat, but got passed as I rounded the corner to exit the park. I noticed the woman breathing very hard and thought she was either going to smoke me or I would pass her again later. Another woman passed me who was in aero bars and looked very strong -- didn’t think I would be seeing her again.

The roads were smooth, quiet, and peaceful, just like the lake. I got a chance to overtake my passer after we made our first left on the course, and I didn’t see her again. I got caught behind another rider at the next turn and also ended up passing her right after. I guess I need to be more aggressive and get those passes completed before turns so I don’t lose time behind someone.

At this point we were riding through a neighborhood. Much to my surprise, that strong aero biker soon appeared a little ahead of me and I was able to stay with her. I worked the hills very well here -- changed a ton of gears, got into the drops on the downhill to be more aero, and didn’t really stop pedaling at all at any point. I used flatter areas to get some powerful momentum going, imagining I was back on the Little Miami Bike Trail just doing my thing.

The course went through a couple of roundabouts and I passed a couple of more women. I was also passed by some women who looked very strong. But they stayed in my sights.

Finally, I had reached the final climb -- a long, slow hill. Hoo boy, did the line of riders slow down there, myself included. I stayed with them and fought and fought. I was in the back of my little pack of riders, including that same woman from earlier, but was so happy that I was able to stick with them. As the hill got less steep, I told myself to HTFU and move faster, not to take a break from that hill. Unbelievable. I actually had something left. Soon I saw the flashing lights of the cop car that signaled the turn back into the park and knew that the part I’d been fearing most was almost over, and that I had done REALLY WELL (for me). I was cheesing it big time at all the passing cars and cops. Just flying high.


When I got my splits, I was pretty shocked at how slow my pace was considering that I wasn't getting smoked by packs of bikes. I need to train on hills and work on being more aggressive when I pass. But judging from my heart rate when I got off the bike, I pushed myself just right. Just gotta improve that engine.

Pretty simple T2 because I biked in my running shoes, but I did have to pin my race number on and take a puff of the inhaler for good measure. I actually wanted to take some time here to make sure my heart rate was nice and steady for the run, so I wasn’t in a big hurry.


Though I purposefully stretched this one out, in future races I’ll have a race belt so I don’t have to fiddle with pins.

I’m just a godawful runner in general, so I had set the bar pretty low for a successful run. For me, that would entail a) not puking and b) not dying. I did want to avoid walking, no matter how slow I had to run. I had trained enough for this goal and knew I could do it if my mind didn’t get the best of me. I anticipated 13 minute miles, as I’ve never run faster than 10 in training and usually average around 11.

I walked most of the way out of T1 and then started running across the timing mats. Slow and steady, I told myself. Looking ahead, I saw that the course was perfectly flat and ran along the gorgeous beach -- are you kidding me?! This was supposed to be my least favorite part! My boyfriend found me and took a picture here, and it must have been right at the moment when I realized how nice the run course was because I have a HUGE, goofy smile plastered across my face. I think I’m even giving him the thumbs-up. What a dork.

I did my turtle thing... Got passed by some hares but didn’t let it deter me. (I’d pass some of them later on as they were walking.) My lungs didn’t seize up. My legs didn’t hurt all that bad. Did I mention that the course was flat and my heart was filled with jubilation? I could have spread my arms and flown with joy at that point.

Then I saw some women up ahead running on grass. Ewww, grass? I hate soft surfaces -- they aggravate my shin splints and ankle pain, and I worry about hitting a pit and rolling my ankle. My heart sank a little. But I pressed on.

When I hit the grass, it was as bad as I thought it would be. I slowed down, tried to work on my form and take very short strides, and briefly flirted with the idea of walking. But I persevered and finally hit some paved ground again. Boyfriend approached and told me that the halfway point was just ahead where I could get some water. Hooray! I told him that I felt great and couldn’t believe how good things were going. I knew he would be so happy and proud of me.

I was getting pretty winded as I approached the turnaround point. That stupid voice from the grassy knoll piped up again and told me it would be easier to walk here. I ignored it. But after the turnaround, I did take a cup of water and pull off to the side to take a drink because I didn’t want to choke. Oh, it felt so good to stop for that second to swallow. I could just walk ten seconds and drink that whole cup of water and it wouldn’t even matter. The little voice in my head coaxed me, pleaded. Walk! Just walk! It’s only ten seconds! You’ve done good enough!

Then a woman hauled by and said, “Come on, we’ve got this. Keep moving. Come on.” I don’t know if she was talking to herself, or me, or both of us, but it did the trick. I threw that cup down, told the voice to STFU, and realized that I would NOT be walking any portion of this run, come hell or high water.

Back on the grass... ugh. It was hard enough the first time. But this time, I found some people to chat with and take my mind off of it. It worked! Soon, I was back on the beach path, begging my legs and lungs to stay with me, because I had the mental part licked!

I passed the lone portapotty... the big signs with numbers... cheered on the women who were just starting their run... cheered on the badass women who were passing me and finishing like warriors... and then I saw the big finish arch and knew I was going to make it. I spotted a place from which it seemed like it would be safe to “sprint” in (my sprint is like a turtle in a hurry), reached it, did it, came through the arch, heard my name and city called (me? finishing??? no way...), took the most beautiful and enticing bottle of water I’d ever seen in my whole life from a smiling gentleman, tried to hug my boyfriend, got nudged back over to where a girl was waiting to put a finisher’s medal around my neck, which she promptly did, and then my heart exploded with happiness because I WAS A TRIATHLETE!

I RAN SUB-10 MINUTE MILES! I do NOT run sub-10 minute miles. EVER. I literally squealed with joy when I saw my splits. Never in a million years did I think I would be most proud of my run of all the events, or that I'd place better in my age group in the run than the swim. Maybe the course was short? Maybe I had left way too much in the tank? I still can’t figure this one out. But I can’t imagine doing any better here.

My dear man rode my bike and gear bag back to the car, and brought me my flip flops, as the grass had made my shoes get all wet and squishy. I didn't want to eat right away. I was on a cloud like I've never been on in my life.

Giant Eagle had a little booth in the food tent where they were giving away yet more free stuff! I got a nice rubber spatula, a potholder, a Band-Aid case, and a $10 Giant Eagle gift card that I used to put gas in my car for the ride home. Holy crap! Jackpot! Nobody told me I was gonna get free gas out of this deal!

They announced that our times were up. I ended up placing 6th in the Athena division, which blew me away! From looking at previous Tri for the Cure results, I knew that most of the women who had placed ahead of me had done several other of these events already this summer. Go me! I would have been 17 out of 22 in my age group, but hey -- I am what I am, and I raced against my bodily peers, and I'd have to shave off bone or limb to be under 150 pounds!

My boyfriend and I milled around a little, listening to the nice music and cheering on the last finishers. Then we went back to the hotel, got cleaned up, and had a delicious breakfast at Bob Evans. All week I had been telling myself things like "This time next week it will be over and you'll be a triathlete..." "This time tomorrow..." "Two hours from now..." And there I was, a triathlete.


I held back a lot at the beginning, probably because my training goal is a full-length sprint tri in September and I was pacing myself for that rather than this shorter distance. But it didn't matter. I could not have been happier with this race. I have a good idea now what I need to do for the one or two races I have left in this season. The real test is going to be next year, when I train all winter long and come out of the gates blazing and ready to see what I'm really made of!


I was worried the Tri for the Cure would get treated like chopped liver since they needed to get us in and out to make room for the "real" Giant Eagle Multisport Festival triathletes, who needed to start bike check-in at noon. The guide didn't have a map for us, barely addressed our race at all, and the registration people acted like they didn't know what to do with us.

But thankfully, this only manifested itself in one way: they didn't have an awards ceremony -- they just had us crowd around a timing trailer to get our own times, and the winners got their awards from a table. I really wanted to see and cheer the women who had won, and could barely get up to the trailer to see my own time, let alone look at how other racers had done. What a bummer. Surely they could have managed an extra half hour for this and still waited for all the women to finish.

Still, it was a great event. There was an announcer/DJ who made the whole thing run smoothly, keeping us abreast of everything and giving the event a cohesive feel. Everything seemed professional and well-organized. You got the distinct sense that you were a real athlete and that everyone was taking you seriously, despite this being a beginner-centered, short distance event. You felt like you were part of something really awesome. Great job, HFP!!

The volunteers were sweet and meant well, but most of them were children who didn't know the answers to my questions. It was only slightly frustrating though, because luckily the event was so well run that my questions didn't matter all that much.

I wasn't pleased with the main food tent offerings -- a bunch of pastries and artificially sweetened yogurt? No thanks. But later on, near the timing trailer, I found a table of fruit and the best PBJ sandwiches I've ever had. That was more like it. I guess they saved the good post-race food for the people who did the longer events on Sunday.