Buckeye Lake Trek Women's Tri (long)
Many of you already know how I came to last weekend. I’d been saying for some time that I’d like to do a sprint triathlon, just playing with the idea. I knew that I could knock out a 20K bike and 5K run without a second thought; I’d twice done a 5K immediately following an untimed 40-mile bike at a local event. The main problem was that I hadn’t swum for distance since 1977, when a knee injury sent me to the pool as my only cardio for three months. After that, I never really wanted to swim for distance again, and that attitude served me just fine for the next 33 years.
On a whim last fall, I’d put a Total Immersion swimming instruction DVD on my Amazon wish list, and it showed up in my Christmas stocking (thanks Keith). A week or two later, the Trek Women’s Series announced a well-supported, professionally run, beginner-friendly sprint distance triathlon at a shallow, calm lake 25 miles from my front door, on the 25th of July. The coincidence seemed like a sign. I penciled it in on my calendar, but I didn’t sign up. The holdup was that I was already training for my first marathon. That was taking all my mental focus as well as a not-inconsiderable amount of physical energy. The DVD sat unwatched in my stack. After finishing the marathon on May 16, I found myself completely lacking the mental energy to learn a whole ‘nother sport in the following weeks.
But weeks passed, and that date continued to glare at me from my calendar. I realized that without a goal, I was floundering for motivation. On July 7, I bought myself a pair of goggles. The next day I headed to the high school pool for public lap swim, tried to remember how to breathe, swam a half mile, the same distance that would be covered in the triathlon. Thought about it for two hours, signed up. Spent the next two weeks trying to learn the first couple of lessons in the DVD.
Race morning arrived. I’d been warned that I’d be extra jacked up at the start, but I didn’t really put two and two together about how that would affect my ability to breathe and swim. My heart was hammering before the countdown even started, and as soon as I put my face in the water my body was already screaming for oxygen. I wound up alternating between freestyle and breaststroke, 6-10 strokes each, for the entire 750m. The good news about that was that it made sighting easy.
Amazingly, I wasn’t DFL out of the water. On to T1. I shook off the physical disorientation of going from buoyant to weight-bearing, and headed for the bike. I’d made a couple of choices ahead of time that I knew would cost me time in transition, but that I considered worthwhile. The relevant one here was cycling gloves, which to me are a piece of safety equipment almost on par with my helmet. But I dropped my left glove while putting on the right one, and I wasn’t going to go back and look for it. So I rode Michael Jackson-style.
What I was really unprepared for – but should have expected – is that many of the riders, even those who weren’t using aerobars, had NO bike handling skills. In nearly every turn, either I was getting balked by riders who had to come to a near-stop before turning their handlebars, or I was flying around the outside at twice their speed or more, fast enough that one rider even shrieked with startlement in spite of my “On your left!” Through most of the 20K, I kept trading places with two other riders. I’d sail past them on the (small) climbs, they’d pass me back in the flats, and in the turns it was 50-50 whether they’d balk me or I’d smoke them.
Back to T2 and the other time-consuming choices I’d made. The main one was socks. My feet blister easily, they were still a little damp, and no way was I going to try to run without them. I’d received a tip about turning my socks halfway inside out so that I could just slide them on and unroll the tops, and that was hugely helpful. Don’t remember who gave me that, but thank you! The other time sacrifice, probably only a second or two, was my orange hibiscus lei. I can’t race without it.
My heart and my legs were already screaming as I jogged out of transition. On the swim, I’d been so starved for oxygen that pacing myself wasn’t even really a possibility; on the bike, as a first-timer, I just figured I’d give it what I had and see what happened. Even on the short descents on the bike, my heart rate had never dropped below 174. So by the time I reached the run, I felt like I was plodding.
Chi Running teaches you to think of moving your heels in a circle behind your center of gravity. I hadn’t planned a mantra for the run, but I found myself needing one, and what popped into my head a half mile into the run was: “Roadrunner! Coyote’s after you! Roadrunner! If he catches you, you’re through.” Unfortunately, I don’t know any more of that theme song, so those two lines had to get me through the final two and a half miles.
A chance of rain had been forecast that morning, and for me, the timing was perfect. I finished the bike and T2 in the dry; it started sprinkling soon after I started the run; and by the turnaround of the out-and-back course, it was pouring. The rain cooled me off, which I desperately needed. Couldn’t have asked for better.
The end of the course went onto the grass and wrapped around the transition area; the finish line wasn’t visible. I was tapped out, and not being able to see the finish was panic-inducing. My heart rate was 191, a number I haven’t seen in several years. It took all I had not to give up and walk. I kept jogging and brought it in, with nothing left. Learned something about pacing for single-sport races there, I did.
Results:
750K swim 18:22; 14th in AG, 169th OA. I had no goal for the swim other than to finish it and swallow as little of the polluted lake water as possible, so not being DFL was a nice bonus.
T1 2:28
20K bike 39:04 @ 18.4 mph. 1st in AG, by nearly three minutes; 13th OA. There was a considerable distance between the mount/dismount area and the transition timing pad. By my watch, hitting my lap timer at mount/dismount, it was more like 38:48 @ 18.8 mph. Not like I used to do in the 40K ITT, but that was 20 years ago.
T2 2:13. The socks probably cost me 15-20 seconds, but blisters would’ve cost me more than that on the run.
5K run 27:18 @ 8:48. 4th in AG, 76th OA.
Total:
1:29:27 (my goal was 1:30); 4/23 in age group, 60/249 overall. I don’t know if they were giving age group awards; because of the pouring rain they did no presentations; but I was only 23 seconds out of third. Dang.
Thanks to all who helped, supported and gave me advice!
