Race Report - My First Tri

I wasn’t sure how to write this race report. You see, if I tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth in detail…there will be three types of reactions. Those who are neutral to supportive. Those who look down on me and roll their eyes (those would be the douche bags) and then those who can use me as inspiration and motivation.  I supposed I have always been honest about my life (with a few irrelevant data adjustments for OPSEC reasons) so I’ll do it like this. I will start with a short summary of my race. Those who aren’t in this for the long haul will skim through that and move on. Then those who have shown interest in my journey can cuddle up and read the rest of the story. So. Here goes.

My first triathlon was amazing. I was so nervous and worried but I ended up doing great. Great means finishing. The 3^rd place in my division? That was just gravy and totally unexpected. It was hard but it really was harder mentally than physically….those who do these crazy things (run, tri, or bike) will get that. But, all in all, it was awesome. And I can’t wait for the next one!

Okay. Now for the details:

I spent the last nine months stressing, worry and otherwise being a tremendous wuss about this triathlon. I had looked at the distances and KNEW I could do each one but put them all together? Wow. Hard but not impossible, I thought to myself. This was a huge thing for me for several reasons that I will spell out here:

1.       I am not a petit flower by ANY means. I have lost 70 pounds but probably  have about another 70 to go. I am (being blunt), fat. Yup. Fat. Heavy. And while I am in probably better shape than the average skinny couch potato Paris Hilton type, I have never considered myself an athlete.

2.       Three years ago, I could not run more than 30 seconds without going into panic and crying and being terrified my heart would explode. For those who don’t know, I had open heart surgery (double bypass) three years ago due to a complication from the radiation to my heart when I had cancer (Hodgekin’s Lymphoma) in college. So when my heart starts to beat fast and I get a little short of breath, I sometimes panic and flash back to when I had my heart attack that prompted the emergency surgery. Also, tremendous neck shoulder pain preceded the heart attack so any sort of pain in my shoulder also terrifies the heck out of me. 

3.       So. I am fat and not in the best shape. Now let’s add a slew of mental struggles related to being in an abusive marriage for 12 years.  While the training and my three years of struggle to loose weight and become more fit have helped, I still spent the days up to the race in absolute sheer terror that I would fail and then I would think that all the horrible things my ex said to me and told me I was were true. (Sure, easy to say they weren’t but trust me, emotionally I am still healing those scars). 

So. You had a short, fat, old lady who had signed up for a triathlon and was absolutely terrified.

I started the day at 0136. Yup. You read that right. Tried to get proper sleep but was so nervous I woke up at 0136 and could NOT get back to sleep. I finally left the house at 0458. Thomas called me and talked to me as I drove the hour to the site. I got there and felt like an idiot already. All these strong sexy athletes walking around. What the HELL was I doing here? Then I saw the 68 year old guy from the night before. And the 14 year old kid. And the few Clydesdales (those are the men who are over 200 pounds, they have their own division) and they weren’t all 200+ pounds of sexy muscle. Some of them were fat. Like me. And, oh! Look…some other women who are fat, too! Okay. Then I go to get my chip. No one said anything to me other than excited encouragement. No one said, “Uh, sorry, you shouldn’t be here.” Then I went to get my body marked and again….no one even blinked that I was there. Wow. At this point, all I have had to eat is my morning Shakeology shake because I am terrified to eat and puke (and I could only drink half the shake before I started to feel sick to my stomach). I had remembered EVERYTHING but my water bottle and so I had no water either. 

I took my bike out of the car and got my bucket. (I have a friend at work who does tris and he told me to get the big five gallon bucket from the hardware store instead of a bag because you could flip it over in transition and use it to sit on to dry your feet and change shoes.) I looked around at everyone with fancy bikes and those neat helmets and again felt like an idiot. I went inside to pee (I think I peed about 27 times I was so nervous before the race). When I got back to the transition area, there were more people. I met a nice older man who had a broken foot. He told me he was probably going to have to walk the run portion. Wow. Okay. Then I met Jason. A short, handsome, 25 year old guy. His bike was next to mine and he was so nervous because this was his first time, too. He was getting his stuff set up and suddenly realized he had forgotten his goggles for the swim. I saw the look of panic on his face and told him I had a few spare pairs in the gym bag in my trunk if he wanted to borrow them. He was relieved and grateful and suddenly my new best friend.  More people started to arrive and finally the REAL athletes (those guys who look like in the ads with the bazillion dollar bikes and space age helmets) got there. And they all had their big plastic buckets. I was starting to feel like a dork for bringing a bucket but felt much better after  they arrived with theirs.

They closed the transition area (this is where you put your bike and all your gear) and we headed to the back deck of the pool area for the last meeting. Picture over 300 folks standing around in in their swimming ensembles in 51 degree weather as the sun comes up. Everything from guys who look like Michael Phelps to…well….women who look like me. We were all cold but in it together. As soon as the meeting was over we all slipped inside to warm up. The pool swim portion was indoors and we leaned against the wall to wait to line up and my cycling coach who was doing it with me looked down (he’s freakishly tall) and asked how I was. And I promptly burst into tears. He hugged me tight and said it would be okay and I sucked it up and we lined up. As we stood in line to wait to start we all started to talk and introduce ourselves. I was amazed at two things. How many first timers there were and how supportive everyone else was. I learned something important. Everyone else was so nervous they didn’t give a rat’s ass how big my ass was and there was this unspoken “we are all in this together” sense of all we want to do is finish. NO ONE I spoke to wanted to win lol they just wanted to finish. Jason was ahead of me and broken foot guy was behind me. As I got close to my start I slipped my goggles on and the entire weight of this hit me and I almost teared up. I thought “DO NOT cry with your goggles on or they will fill with tears!” and that stopped that. I looked up one last time into the stands where Captain Awesome was waiting to cheer me on, they told me go, and I went. 

I had practiced my swimming but realized early on in my training that I did not have the endurance to swim that whole distance freestyle. I checked and found out they didn’t care if you did doggy paddle so long as you got from one end to the other and back. I had put together a weird combination of breast stroke (which I was good at) and alternated it with side stroke and back stroke. Each time I went under the flags I switched to freestyle for that last few yards to get a little speed in there. Broken foot guy passed me on the second lane. It was okay though because he was just faster. I was a little shocked when he passed muscular in shape hottie Jason though. I never quite caught up to Jason but I saw he (and several others) had to pause at the wall before starting another lap because they were tired. Wow. I didn’t have to stop once so even though I was slow, that made me proud. As we were headed towards each other in the next to last lane I could see Jason was really struggling. He had lost the nice freestyle and was doing this ragged arm over arm but no face in the water stroke and you could just see how hard it was for him. I glided by and as I came up for air between my breast strokes I said to him (he was less than a foot away coming towards me) “You got this Jason! You’re almost done!” I heard him gasp a thanks before I went back under. 

I finished my own swim, climbed out with the ladder and burst out the door into the cold. HOLY CRAP it was cold. I had never felt this wobbly but when I looked at my times later I realized that I had MAJORLY PR’d my swim time in a big way without trying. That and the adrenaline and trying to run left me wobbly. I sort of run walked up the little hill and entered the transition area. The bike was my worst part and I just kept telling myself to get through the bike and the run would be no problem. I geared up and off I went.

This had to have been the hardest part of the entire thing and this is where I think I shed 12 years of a lot of shit. Somewhere along that road lies a whole bunch of crap that had been weighing me down and I know exactly where I stopped and dumped the BIGGEST part of it.

The bike course was extraordinarily hilly. I looked at the results later and saw a few people who never even finished it. The first five miles were hard but not too bad. I had to walk the first huge hill because my legs were still shaking from the swim. I was the very dead last person and never saw a single racer on the bike portion other than myself. Halfway up the first huge hill when I had to get off to walk, I heard this noise behind me and almost jumped out of my skin. You see, the first five miles were on a highway. Trucks and cars used that thing at amazing high speeds and the main reason I had never tried to ride it prior to the race is because it terrified me. I realized the noise was the thrum of a Honda Goldwing and the volunteer who was riding at the rear of the race. I managed to get over the next few hills on my own and then had to walk the fourth when my legs gave out halfway up. Goldwing slowed down and putted along behind me as I struggled up that hill. Just make it halfway. You can do this. I kept cheering myself on and remembering every word of encouragement I had been given. I had no music (against the rules) so all I had was the thrum of the Goldwing, the rush of traffic whizzing by and the occasional voice of my Nike Run app telling me when I had ticked off another quarter mile. I finally made the turn at five miles and it went immediately uphill and didn’t stop. FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck. I had to get off again after valiantly attempting to ride as far up as I could. And I could still hear Goldwing. Thrumthrumthruming along behind me. Sigh. I suck. But I kept trudging up the hill. I think the next mile was uphill and on I trudged, pushing my bike. I tried a few times to get on and I couldn’t get it to move. Almost fell once. Tried again and wobbled into the grass. Tried a third time and my wheel went wobbly and caught the edge of my toe and almost dumped me. I stopped and put my head down on the handle bars. Too tired to cry. Then I took a deep breath and started to walk. Finally made it up the hill and got on towards the top and wobble peddled to the top then crested and coasted down. Whew. I struggled through a few more hills. Rode up as far as I could then got off and walked. All this time the Goldwing thrummed along slowly behind me. I felt SO stupid and so slow and so fat and so out of place. I kept wanting to turn around to tell Goldwing I was sorry for making him (her?) putt along behind me. And that’s where I dumped the biggest piece of baggage I had been carrying. Instead of hearing douche bag’s voice in my head I heard Thomas so very loud and very clear:

“ NEVER apologize for doing your best.”

And….I didn’t. That’s where I dumped a huge load of bullshit I had been carrying around. I have no idea if Goldwing was male or female. I have no idea if they were annoyed or inspired. I have no idea because I never turned around to look at them or speak to them. The purr of that Goldwing was like this weird guardian angel and it helped me worry less about getting hit by a car on that twisty hilly little back lane road. There were times I was a streak and times I just plodded along on a flat and times I walked uphill pushing my bike in front of me. Times I had to just stop, take a deep breath and then start again. When I got to the last mile, I knew as soon as I crested the hill it would be all downhill from there and I was elated. I was almost a triathlete. The worst part would soon be over and as I came down that last mile stretch and the sun shone and the streams burbled as I rode over the bridges and the trees were pretty and it was just so fucking awesome. I turned into the lot and headed to the transition area and by my watch had finished the ride within the allotted time but way last. My cycling coach was waiting for me there and full of praise and encouragement. I grabbed my visor and number and headed out to start my run. There was a water table right at the start and as I had not drank anything on the ride I grabbed two cups of water. Drank one but hard to run without spilling the other so after a few sips I dumped it and tossed it. I knew there were water stations at each mile so figured I would get some at the next table. I crossed over the little bridge and paused to empty the rocks from my shoes. Yeah….see, I had gotten rocks in my shoes that had been stuck to my feet after running up through the grass and dirt and across the parking lot from the swim to the bike. I had gone that whole ride with them in there but really…needed them out before I did the run. Rocks out. Okay…come around the corner and almost stopped. 

The water table was…folded down and put away. I scanned around and realized I was so far back there were no other runners and they had taken down the water tables. Wow. Okay. Deep breath. Just do it. I started my run and was SO freaking pleased with it and a little annoyed there was no one there to see I was RUNNING for fuck’s sake. I had just done that swim and that ride and FAT girl was running (slow but still…) RUNNING. Sigh. I kept running. I finished the first mile and saw three ladies running towards me across the field. I recognized one as one of the race directors. Great. They were coming to tell me to just stop and not bother. Sigh. But no….they had water! Lol They gave me a bottle of water, told me how awesome I was and to keep going! Wow. So I did. All by myself. The only one on the course. On and on I went. Quite pleased with myself at how much I was able to run this (SO glad I did those longer runs in the weeks leading up). I finished the first big loop / lap and as I started the second I heard this voice call out that they had more cold water. This woman dashed up to me and brought me a fresh bottle of cold water and asked if she could walk/run the rest with me. She was a volunteer and didn’t want me to have to be alone. I accepted her company and she started to chitter chatter while we ran walked along. She was so full of encouragement and praise and while normally I find that annoying, seeing as that my brain was in an altered state, I welcomed it. Then one of the other race guys showed up on a bike to tell me I was almost done and to keep going. So I did. About halfway through the second loop something happened to me that had never happened before. I cramped. At first I wasn’t sure what had happened but my right quad just seized up. What the heck? That was a new one. I supposed it shouldn’t have been a big shocker considering all I had eaten was a shake at 0430 and was most likely dehydrated but I was not expecting that. I felt it seize and slowed down and took the sport beans out of my little running belt and ate the tiny sample packet while drinking more water and walked it through. The cramp went away and I was able to pick back up the pace. As I ran the last little bit around the corner before the uphill to the finish I see my cycling coach. He had stayed! Wow. He runs up to me in his socks and sandals and holding his plaque (he won 2^nd in his division) he is so excited. He runs the last little bit up with me and then stops and bows and I run the last few yards over the finish line. 

I was so stunned I was done I was speechless. Everyone was hugging me (and I had no clue who these people were). They were calling me by name and bringing me Gatorade. The one director put a medal around my neck and the next thing I know another guy has his arm around me and is handing me the plaque for third place in my division while they are taking pictures. Seems there were four of us and one woman couldn’t make it through the bike so just by finishing, I won 3^rd.

If I wasn’t stunned enough at just finishing (and I didn’t puke, fall down or pass out once) I was honestly stunned at the amount of people who came up to me at the end and shook my hand, congratulated me and welcomed me to “the club”. I will never forget the older man who I had last seen on the deck of the pool telling me to just relax and do my best. He was at the end and he came up to me and said, “You are a triathlete.”

Wow. I am still kind of stunned. Most the crowd was gone. The food was all gone (I did get Gatorade and potato chips though).  When you looked down the hill into the transition area, all the racks were down except the one with my bike on it all alone, a white bucket and towel lying underneath it. 

I am continuously amazed at the support of the people in the running (and now triathlon) community. I had once thought they would all be those asshole jocks we remember from high school. Sure, I have stumbled on a few here and there but I think they are just assholes in general and it has nothing to do with their athletic ability. Not once in that entire race did I ever feel like a looser. I felt slow. And tired, Scared. Exhausted. Worried. But never once like a looser. I never thought of myself as an athlete before. I do now. I may not be good. I may never be the best. But I am pretty damn amazing anyway.

I’ll end with the man I meet on deck waiting to enter the water. A middle age black man. He had a fancy tri suit on with words and pictures so he looked all legit. But his number was behind me which made no sense because he could not be slower than me. Then I looked above his number on his arm and saw it. The M Dot tattoo. (Some of you know what I am talking about). Holy Crap. I was going to tell M Dot he just needed to go ahead and get in front of me now and he said the director had actually lined him up about five people in front of me. I must have looked confused then I asked, “Are you an Iron Man?” He replied yes and I asked why he was placed so far back with us newbies and slow people and he smiled and shrugged and said, “I have done Iron Man. I have finished Iron Man. But I am not particularly fast or good. All I do is try.”

Wow. I like my race t-shirt. On the back above all the sponsors it says, “We dare you to tri.”

I took the dare and I did it. And I am so glad I did.