Triathlon Would Be A Lot Better If Not For All The Swimming

Yeah, I haven't posted anything here in about forever. But since people seem to want to know about the Millheim Triathlon, lets see if I can dust of the posting skills.

I'd really only decided to do this about a month ago, so I had no great expectations going in. I figured I'd suck in the swim, dominate on the bike, and hold my own on the run. I was shooting for a finish between 80 and 85 minutes, somewhere in the middle of the pack.

Well, the day started with me getting pulled over for speeding on my way to Millheim. I didn't try to BS my way out of it: we both knew I was speeding. I told him the truth, I was on my way to do this tri, and I was a bit excited. He reduced the ticket to "failing to heed traffic signs," which is a smaller fine and no points on the license. So, maybe that was a good omen?

Now, this tri has a couple of unusual features. First, the swim is very short (300 yards), and it's in a pool as opposed to open water. Given my fear of drowning in the swim, both of these seemed like positive features. Another thing that was strange about it was that the transition from the pool to the bike is super long: easily 2 or 3 city blocks. And they suggested that you put on your shoes as soon as you get out of the water, for fear of gravel and broken glass, but then you run to your bike, which like I said is some distance away. So essentially you're doing two transitions there.

Anyway, the pool. 300 yards is just 12 lengths of the pool. We line up according to our projected times, and every 20 seconds someone goes. You swim up, touch the wall, swim back, go under the lane line, and repeat six times. I'd swum 400M in my training, still struggling, but I felt ready. My average time in training was just over 6 minutes.

The line ahead of me is shrinking steadily, until finally the guy ahead of me goes. I get in the pool, wait for the countdown, and then I'm off. Right away, I know that I'm going to struggle. The water is all churned up from the other swimmers, and it's messing with me. But I hit the wall, turn, make it back. All good. Then I push off and go under the lane line. Except, I don't, quite. I bump it with my shoulder, take in a mouthful of water, and I panic a little. I get it under control, but now I'm rattled. I keep going, and my hand hits the lane line. Things are a little off. I struggle to the wall, turn, and see the person who started after me is closing fast.

When I get to the wall, which is an agonizing long time, I let her pass me (I didn't think I could turn without running into her anyway). I go under the lane line to start my next lap, and take in a nosefull. All my bad habits return: my head pops up, I'm hyperventilating, and letting my legs fall. This makes swimming so much harder. And I've still got 150 yards to go. I struggle for the next 100, letting two more people pass me. I had to stop for a moment before the last 50, just to settle down a little. Then I struggle through the last 50, and a set of stairs never looked so good. I got out of the water in just over 7 minutes.

I guess I must have been a bit disoriented when I got out of the water, because one of the volunteers had to point the way for me. I found my shoes, and began the jog to my bike. I grabbed the bike, and jogged with it, right past the end of the transition zone. I'd say I'd gone 30 or so feet before I realized that I could actually get on my bike now.

Once my butt hit the saddle, all was right with the world. I got down on the aerobars and just cranked it, flying down the road, looking for people to pass. I didn't see anybody for a long time: almost 5 miles. But then I passed one, then two, then three, and still flying. I saw another group about a quarter-mile ahead, making a turn. I chased them down. Then at about the 12-mile mark, the big hills started. Now, I'd seen the course elevations, so I knew there were some steep climbs, but I hadn't actually seen the course. I shifted down way too early for that hill, which stole all my momentum. It was a fight to get to the top, but finally I crested that thing and cranked it again. I saw that this was just a quick dip before another climb, so I didn't shift to the big ring. I should have though, because the next hill was easier than it looked.

At about 13.5 miles, or 2 miles to go, I rounded a turn, and was faced with a wall: a steep climb, maybe a quarter mile. But I was caught out in a big gear: I had to burn some legs muscles to get it enough slack in the chain to downshift. A guy passed me like I was standing still. Then, just before the top, another guy. After we crested that hill, it was pretty much downhill the rest of the way. I kept inching closers and closer to the second guy, passing more people the whole way, but I never could catch him.

When I finished the bike, I knew I had crushed it. I changed my shoes and started my run. One thing I've learned from my previous endeavors is that I tend to go too fast to start the run: I'm so used to bike speed that I feel like I'm running too slow. So I made a deliberate decision to try to slow down until the jelly legs passed at least. On the run, the first thing after the transition zone is a steep, steep hill, which really kicked my ass. I wanted to stop and walk, but just kept trudging up the hill. I held back going down the next hill, because I didn't know what else was coming. I was dying, too. The sun had come out, and the humidity had picked up, and I was wishing I'd hydrated a bit more on the bike.

At one point, I made a turn, and one of the volunteers called out "2.3 miles to go!" What! The whole run is only 3.1 miles, and I'd been running forever. I just keep pushing. I saw people ahead of me stopping to walk. "They stopped," I thought, "I can too." But somehow I didn't stop, I just kept going. People were coming back the other way now. The turnaround has to be up here somewhere! The plodding continued. Finally, the turnaround, the half-way mark! I went through, and immediately my stride improved. I got stronger and stronger as the next mile ticked by. Then there was that last hill before the finish. I knew all I had to do was get up this, and I could fly down the hill on the other side.

I was back in the sun, and so tired. My body was telling me, "oh, just walk to the top, and then run." I refused to quit, it was a matter of my personal pride now. There is no walking in Tri! Oh it felt so good to crest that hill, and I just let the speed come out down the hill. When I saw the finish, I found another gear and crossed the line at 93 minutes and change.

Yeah it was slower than I wanted, but I finished 31st out of 75, and 5th out of 8 in my age group. Middle of the pack, just as planned. I knew I could have done the run way better: I was way too conservative early. The most important thing, though, was that I had persevered all the way, in spite of the betrayals of body and spirit. I earned that beer and burger at Elk Creek Cafe!