Not all triathlons are Ironmans. People confuse those a lot. Much like running a marathon. Marathons are always the same distance. Ironmans are always the same distance. If they aren't, they're called something else. Like half marathons.
This event was in Pacific Grove down by Monterey. It was cold and drizzly. The announcer said the water was 58 degrees. It felt like 40.
I can't say I did a ton of prep for this race. This was a sprint triathlon: 1/4 mile swim, 12.4 mile bike, and 2 mile run. I love how people say "oh a two mile run for a marathoner is nothing". Ha ha ha. Frowny face.
But I have been maintaining my running. I even ran 3 miles the other day without socks to make sure it could be done. I did not practice my transitions, and other than taking it off at the sporting goods store, I did not practice getting out of my wetsuit. I visualized it though. I even messed around with the zipper while waiting for the swim to start so that I knew how to quickly unzip as I ran up the stairs from the cove.
I did not practice a flying mount or dismount on my bike.
I did not take note of the course or how many laps of what needed to be done.
I read some articles, visited some tri forums, bought a decent but cheap outfit that could be worn for all three parts, including under my wetsuit. I knew how to set up my bike and running shoes to make for a quick entry and exit. For the shoes anyway.
I showed up at the triathlon super early, got good parking, collected my race packet, and wandered into the transition area. I racked my bike where I found my number, then looked around at entry and exit points. Thankfully they were clearly marked. Although that would shortly not matter after confusion took hold.
I walked around and checked out the sights. There was a good drizzle coming down and the water looked cold. I saw a sea otter which was a good sign that there was not a great white shark in the vicinity.
I set up my transition area as cleverly as possible while scrutinizing everyone else's to make sure I was doing it right. I pulled over a referee and asked about bike dismount rules. I met my friend Amy and her husband Joe and we shared our nervousness. Well not Joe. He didn't seem nervous. And it was Amy's second time.
We went down to the start area by the water. People were in the water "warming up". I stuck my feet in and immediately backed out. The water was so cold it hurt my feet. Amy was sitting in it up to her chest.
"Does that help?" I asked.
"I think so?" She looked doubtful. She also looked cold. Other people were swimming around. Logically I knew a warm-up would help but I was pretty sure getting in would invoke hypothermia and I wanted to put that off as long as possible.
We were in wave 5. As we watched the other waves go, I realized I had to pee really bad. I tried jumping in the water and going right before my wave start, but the water was so cold that my bladder just shut down. I jumped back out and we got in line. My goggles fogged up. I decided to just watch the girl in front of me.
The announcer counted down. We were off. We ran awkwardly to the water and when the girl in front of me dove in, so did I.
My chest seized up immediately. I was trying to breathe every other stroke and only half a lungful of air would come in. I swallowed water. I gasped for air. I tried to watch where I was going. I swam frantically. I needed air. It was so cold. I swallowed air in a desperate attempt to breathe without water getting in. I tried to relax, smooth out my stroke. I swallowed more water, then more air. I wasn't feeling good.
By the time I turned at the first buoy, I was starting to calm down a little. I felt seaweed get caught up on my ankle. I tried to ignore the kelp forest I was swimming in and over. A girl tickled my toes. As we rounded the second buoy, the girl started running me over. Of all the room in the ocean, this girl had to swim on top of me.
I sighted to shore and saw I was headed toward the rocks. With the girl on my left, I tried pushing her over. She swam right over my head. I veered left of the rocks to steer clear of the pier. I still hadn't peed. There was no way I'd make it the rest of the race if I didn't go. I stopped kicking and tried to relax. Finally I was able to go. Just as I reached shore, I started to heave badly. All that water and air I had swallowed was going to make me vomit, and here I was just trying to suck air out of a mouthful of water.
Just keep swimming....
I wondered if I could vomit without stopping. I heaved a few more times. Lifeguards shouted directions I couldn't understand. I swam until the girl in front of me stood up. We wobbled towards the stairs. I fumbled for my zipper.
I was so disoriented that I couldn't wrap my head around what I was trying to do. How much of this suit should I get off as I try to run to the transition zone? Running itself was difficult as I was pretty wobbly and couldn't run a straight line.
I got an arm out, then another. I found my transition area and peeled off the wetsuit. As I bent my head down to get the suit off my legs, I got really dizzy and started to fall backwards. In order to keep myself from falling, I staggered back. And back. And back. I ended up ten feet from my area with my wetsuit still around my ankles. I could hardly stand.
I shuffled back to my stuff and managed to get my suit off. I tossed it in a pile, pulled on my helmet and sunglasses, slipped my wet, sandy feet into my bike shoes, buckled them up, grabbed my bike, and ran off toward the big sign that said "Bike Out". A guy shouted and pointed and waved a flag at where we were supposed to mount. Being a complete newbie, I had to stop completely to clip in. But then I was off.
The drizzle made it nearly impossible to see through my glasses, the wind made it nearly impossible to go without. I wondered if it was safe for me to be on a bike. I still felt nauseous and dizzy. I occasionally saw crash victims, and one fast looking guy fall over on the turn around. I tried to sip water without upsetting my stomach further.
As I came back on another crash victim, I wondered what we were crashing about. Should I be paying attention to something? I couldn't see anything, I was completely disoriented, and all I could do was follow the trail of bikes.
I found myself back at transition with an option for "Bike Finish" or..., I don't know...not bike finish. I asked the guy as I rolled in to the "not bike finish" how many laps I had to do. I thought he said three. This was a super long bike ride. Like 50 miles or something. With drizzle and a head wind and all I was wearing was a pair of wet bike shorts and a wet tank top.
I had been told that the bike route was gorgeous. On lap two, I started looking around through the water and fog on my glasses. Yeah, I can see that. It would probably be really pretty if I could actually see something.
My stomach felt better, I tried for some more water. I already had to pee again. I rode up to a girl who looked like she knew what she was doing.
"Hey, excuse me. Do we have to do two laps or three?"
She laughed. "Just two. Don't worry, you're almost done."
"Ok thanks" I said and passed her by. I managed a GU, and realized my hands were totally numb. I tucked the trash back into my shirt pocket and pushed for the "Bike Finish". I saw a girl in front of me start to pull her feet out of her shoes. I had read about this. Your shoes are clipped into the pedals. The deal is you want to get off the bike and running through transition as quickly as possible. So if you pull your feet out of your shoes and keep pedaling on top of them, it's faster and easier dismount. It's also easier to run.
I considered trying it. I thought about my options. There was a large number of spectators by the bike dismount area. I would totally crash if I messed that up. And in my current state, I would most likely mess that up. I decided to dismount as normal. Which meant coming to a complete stop in front of everyone. At least I remained mostly upright. I was running crooked as I entered transition, but still up.
I racked my bike, stripped off my bike shoes, removed my helmet and glasses (couldn't see a damn thing by this point anyway) and slipped my feet into my running shoes. I cinched the new lace lock system (no tying) and strapped my race number belt around my waist. I was off again.
In the wrong direction. Maybe. I started to circle back, changed my mind, headed toward "Run Out". Nice people were there with flags waving me in the direction I needed to go.
I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't feel my feet. I think I felt a cramp in my side. The girl in front of me shouted to her spectator friend "Hey! Do you have a hair tie?!" She pulled over to grab it. I passed her. Behind me I heard her shout "I can't feel my legs!". Oh good, this is normal.
What is 2 miles to a marathoner? It's like the last two miles of a damn marathon is what it is.
The only reason I knew my feet were still somewhat working was because they were thumping loudly on the path. I felt I had no control over them. My back ached. I passed up the first water stop. I charged on.
A mile is a long way. It really is.
I came upon the finish line stretching off to the left, and "Lap 1" off to the right. I followed the path to right, persistently wondering if I was doing the right thing. The entire race I felt dazed and confused. The entire race I kept wondering if I was completely messing up.
One more mile to go.
I took the water this time.
I totally forgot how to drink water and run. As a matter of fact, I forgot how to grab water from a volunteer holding it out in front of you. I almost stopped. The coordination and thought process wasn't there. He seemed baffled. I felt baffled. I managed to grab the cup, pinch the top shut, snort some up my nose, get a couple drinks, and toss it in the trash can. I passed Joe and he shouted encouragement. I yelled something back. I was on auto pilot.
Up and around the corner. I approached the Y again. Left to Finish, right to "Lap 1". I was not Lap 1. I was Finish. I ran over blue mats. I heard my name called over the loud speaker. I crossed the finish line.
A little girl greeted me with a medal. I didn't know how to take it. I finally bent over and let her put it around my neck. I thanked her. A guy with a little stool crouched waiting for me. He was going to take the tag from my ankle. I imagined I was supposed to put my foot up on that stool (it was like 4 inches high). I imagined the trauma that was going to cause. I laughed. I don't know what I said but I somehow let him take my tag without falling over.
A kid approached me with a cup of gatorade and a cup of water. "Gatorade or water?" He asked.
"Um, how about both?"
He gave me a funny look and handed them over. I wobbled off out of the finish area.
I cheered people on until I got cold and had to get back to Transition to get my sweatshirt. I found food on the way back and cheered on Joe and Amy with their family. We took photos, took hot showers, and had a nice lunch.
For as rough as my swim was, it was actually a really decent time. Maybe because it was so cold that I was swimming faster, who knows. The bike results are up, and mine are ok. The run and second transition are not up yet. My first transition was not as terrible as I thought it would be given the trouble I had. Still not great. The second transition had to have been better. I'm curious about the run time. I had no reference point.
Amy asks if I'll do another. Thinking about that swim makes me cringe. Actually, thinking about any of it makes me cringe. Kinda how my first marathon was.
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