Gahh...ok, so I was worried about the water being cold. Turns out it was the absolute perfect temperature for swimming. Haha, take that you neoprene clad wussies!

Got up to the start and got ready. Not too many women in the international group. Had an OK start, traded some elbows. I went for an outside line to start with to avoid getting thrashed. Rounded the first buoy, no problem, second buoy, no problem. I was passing people, crusing along, heart rate was great, no big deal. Then, of course, I somehow neglected to see the no wake buoy, which I of course clotheslined and got a jolt out of my swim coma. WTF?! Nice job, poindexter. Tucked back into the swim and had a nice go of it.

Pay more attention. Push harder. Actually train?

Let's back this up to the swim.

First of all, I swam until I touched bottom. Stood up, grabbed the googles and the cap, trying to do my best "pro triathlete" impression. Which of course meant that my goggles shot off somewhere into the briney brown oblivion. Feck! So I'm looking around people are asking, somewhat helping, finally I say to hell with it and start going. And then...

"TRACEY! ARE YOU LOOKING FOR THESE!!!?"

Who else would find my goggles, but our very own, Stupidnickname, who was following me out of the water.
Hot.
Damn.

So he asks me to fix his timing chip in exchange for finding my goggles. No big deal...try to get it sorted, kinda helped, maybe? Got up the hill (forgot how much that sucked) found someone elses goggles (grabbed them), hit the footwash buckets, threw goggles to HFP volunteer, bike shoes, insulin pump, bandana, helmet, etc etc etc...and run.

And who is leading me out of transition?

Yep, stupidnickname.

But right behind me was a girl in my AG! OH NO!

Hehe, not slingshot my goggles.
always have BTrs in the race?

So I left T1 and started to bike. Ok, feeling good, feeling good. What? Who? Why is she drafting me! And she's in my AG! I mean, we are talking blatant draft position here. I don't think she meant it intentionally but she's seriously, seriously in my draft zone. And she remained so, for about 8 miles. She kept trying to pass me, but couldn't. And she couldn't get far enough ahead to be draft legal. I really wish she would have been ticketed, because she was cruising in the middle of the lane, which was forcing people to pass her in the other lane. *sigh* I wasted most of my energy on dealing with her.

It frustrates me a lot because I love biking. I love to ride, but man, I suck at it! I was really upset with myself for this bike portion. No excuse.

I should have drained both of my bottles, and didn't . Bad idea.

buy a new bike. train more. Don't suck.

So I know that people are done and stuff, but Id really appreciate it if you'd, ya know, not camp out with your kids on the dismount line? Grr. So I got off the bike, feeling a bit dejected, and get to my rack. Only to find my stuff scattered to the wind. *Sigh*

Shoes on, race belt on, gel refuel, we're good. Off we go.

nothing major, just not suck so much so that people wouldn't mess my stuff up.

Ok, admittedly, my run totals have been low because i've been getting ready to graduate and haven't had the time to donate to it. But this was pitiful.

I found a consistent stride and stuck with it. Great, cool. Was doing ok. But my mind got to wondering and thinking, which is bad. Overthinking of course. Was feeling a little low (read, a lot low) after doing so bad on the bike. And I was starting to get this annoying rub. Just when I needed it the most, I saw Stupid again! Got a high five, little pep talk, little lift up. Needed that. Made it to the turn around, where I saw two girls in my AG behind me! Oh crap! If I could just hold them off, I'd get 3rd!

I buckled down my pace. No more walking aid stations. I was doing good coming into mile 3.5. And then I felt it. A huge blister on my left foot. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Feck feck feck. Arse arse arse. Cussing up a storm. Girls are getting closer. One more mile left. OOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW! And the blister (s) rip open. Right on time. Both girls pass me. I try to make a run for it. Now I'm just embarrassed as I watch two girls in my AG, half my weight, go sprinting like non-sweating gazelles towards the finish. Leaving me with my sweaty, chubby, bleeding feet to slog in like a loser.

And yes, I cried.

So I'm rounding the corner towards the finish line. There's no one handing out water anymore, so I just took one. No one is there to cheer for me, so I'm just crusing in unnoticed. People are taking down the racks and stuff, so that's demoralizing. I'm still hurting (a lot) from the blister. Finally I get announced and I hear Stupid yelling his head off for me (thanks brother, I seriously needed that!) trot in, kids take my chip, and try to give me an orange soda, which I refuse because of the 'betes (which, as a side note ,made it through the race pretty well!)...settle for warm water from the faucet in the poolhouse. Pack up and go home.

Umm..train. Lose 20 lbs. Not suck at running. Wear socks. Take your pick.

Took my shoes off immediately. Saw blood running down my ankle and a HUUUUGE nasty blister. To which a guy passing by says, "niiice, that's a beaut!". Thanks, I think? Got the bike packed up, then went ot see the ambulance people to get a bandaid and an alcohol swab. Most action those guys saw all day. Got some tape for the insulin pump, which I had sweated off. called fiance and went home.


Umm..lack of preparation. I decided to do this race a week before. I should have trained more. I'm really shaken after this race, wondering if I really belong in this sport or not. I'm really upset at myself for the bike and the run and for just...being me pretty much. My ego has taken a bit of a beating. But I think this attitude might be a result of my impending graduation and all sorts of emotions surrounding that. Overall, I haven't been able to focus on racing like I wanted to. *sigh*


HFP runs a good race. I just wish they'd wait till everyone was done to start packing up. It's a big blow to the ego at the finish to see people waiting to take down the tent and stuff.