My First Triathlon

I went to post a couple of pictures from my first triathlon on Instagram. However, since I was there by myself, the pics were woefully anti-climatic.

Can I just say I hate selfies of myself. Wearing this wetsuit, I am supposed to be looking bad ass but I just look mad with no makeup.

Here’s this shot of my view of the lake from my transition position at the makeshift bike racks. It’s Folsom Lake at Beal’s Point.  Not exactly something that is going to elicit much looking time from my friends and family when it’s competing on their feeds with the likes of Hawaiian vacations and superstar kids.

So what to do when a picture really doesn’t say a thousand words? How to share an amazing experience in time that can’t be caught in a picture? It’s back to the old blog that's been in ghost town mode for five years!  So here’s to resurrecting the old writing medium and documenting and sharing a moment in time that is very special to me.

First off, this was actually a “practice triathlon” and not a timed triathlon. The only differences I can detect are these:

1.       I paid less money.

2.       There were fewer competitors (about 25).

3.       We were all pretty much newbies.

4.       Nobody was in a hurry (we started late).

5.       The coaches talked A LOT before the thing started.

6.       There was no official time at the end or medal.

Other than that, I swam in a dirty lake, rode my bike, and ran just like I would in a regular triathlon.  Therefore, I am counting it as my first triathlon.

So why was this event with the lame pictures so important for me to write about? Because it was a realized dream and, just like any dream, there were mountains to climb. The mountains were multiple injuries from running and a bike accident, there was an eating disorder that needed counseling to clear up, then there were the two years of me half drowning at a Master’s swim class in order to learn to swim.

Then in January it was like the calm you find the day after a rainstorm. The sun is shining and the birds are out singing and it smells great. I suddenly found myself injury free. My eating was clean and peaceful. My running was easy and strong. The shoulder I injured in the bike accident was responding awesomely to physical therapy. I could really start training but I was nervous. I even waited until just two days before this practice-tri to sign up just to be sure there would not be some sort of niggle of an injury to surprise me.  I love when life turns around and the good comes greeting me around the corner.

What I’ll always remember about my first triathlon was the way the early evening sun was shining. It was that just right kind of sun that warms your skin like a kiss and the light made the dirty lake dreamy with a sparkle. TBF had set up a pop up and a girl was seated there to check off my name and give me a free wetsuit. I’ve decided I like the tight neoprene of the wetsuit less than wool (which I am allergic to).  But it is a necessary evil for the frigid spring waters.

Next, I took my bike and gear over to the make-shift racks that were brought in to hold our bikes. As I was putting my bike on, I sized up the competition (other newbies). There was a little Asian man and some tough looking, slightly overweight looking ladies with tattoos. Of course it was just my first impression, but these ladies had an edge and seemed slightly tougher than the runners I’d observed at running races. I’m Mormon and have no tattoos but, despite, I knew my spirit would just fit right in. Everyone was friendly and I chatted and met some of the coaches. Then SHE came toward us carrying her bike! It was Ellen Degeneres.  Whenever I think back to my first triathlon experience, I will remember doing it with Ellen. Of course it wasn’t really her…but by golly she had that white smile, the blue eyes, the same face, that short, short blond do. Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I would have asked for her autograph. It just added to the magic of the whole thing. “Ellen” had her bike across from mine. 

Finally,  the coaches started talking. Holy cow! 20 minutes were devoted to whether you should wear old running shoes, flip flops, or bare feet down to the lake when you start your race. I could have picked the slivers out of my feet faster. I just wanted to start so bad. But of course this was a learning race I had to be patient. While the coaches talked, I have to admit, I just kept taking in the sight of everyone standing there half clad in wetsuits, looking serious with their towels folded up on the ground under bikes. There was something so delightfully playful and youngish about the whole thing. It reminded me so much of when my brother and I used to set up obstacle courses in the backyard as kids and pretend we were in the Olympics. I could feel I was about to have a really  good time and everyone looked so serious about it like it was a very adult thing to do. It made me smile.  

After all the talking, we finally went to the lake to “warm up.” I had bare feet so I would be picking out some stuff later. We warmed up and swam around in our awkward wetsuits for 10 minutes. Then the swim started. It was a 400 yard swim. The sun pleasantly greeted me every time I came up for air. That was the nice part. The water was murky, dark, and sloshy like being in a washing machine. I am so used to swimming in the pool that I think I mentally rely on knowing every 25 yards I can grab the wall if I want. This is a different ballgame with the buoys set up over what looks like quite a distance. Things were going great until about midway to my second buoy. It looked really far away and my wetsuit felt like it was growing tighter. I started to feel short of breath and slightly panicked. It was time for a talking to. “Self,” I said, “you can either embarrass yourself now and yell for help, or you can finish this with dignity. It’s really far but you can just not think about it and take it one stroke at a time.” That seemed to do the trick. I guess I thought suffocating would be a lot less embarrassing than dragging in on the kayak in front of all the cool people. I don’t know how long it took me to pull in but I was delighted to see that I was not last. There were a handful of swimmers coming in behind me. As I walked up the shore, I heard the coach yelling to the swimmers behind me, “it’s not time to walk yet. Keep swimming.”  I just smiled.  It did so much for my confidence not to be the last one out of there. I always think of myself as the worst swimmer. Guess I’m not.  

I went to the transition area picking my steps carefully across the pokes and took off the wetsuit. Oh joy to be rid of all that constricting madness!!!  I got on my bike and gingerly took off out of the transition. Everything was downhill for while and I am only 6 months out of a bike crash. I am still very cautious on my downhills. My breaks got a nice workout. Tough ladies were passing me all the while. But the best part came when we went up the big hill on Folsom Lake Xing. My uphill needn’t be slow and it wasn’t. I started passing said ladies who were huffing and puffing. I felt awesome and strong. The bike ride was only 6 miles. On the way back into transition the sun was shining on me so much, I could hardly see. It almost felt like a spiritual moment where God was there in this fantastic light, cheering me on in accomplishing my dream. The air was so cool and wonderful on my skin. I could feel myself smiling and smiling.

The final leg of the race was the run, my specialty! I have to say I have never run before after an uphill like that on my bike. My knees did not quite feel right but after the first mile, they worked themselves back into the sockets. By now, the orange and yellow sunset had come and  it was warming and coloring the sky, it was like the sky was doing it's own little race toward night. Running always feels the best because I love it most. The run was only 2 or 3 miles and I finished that easily. All the while I was so happy because finishing the run meant I was finishing my first triathlon.

I had no time of course. I didn’t even keep track myself. I just enjoyed the experience and was so thankful for those few hours of pure joy. Now on to the real thing in a few weeks. I can’t wait to feel the energy of a real race and experience the real competition.  Here's hoping that once I get a time to beat, I will never lose the joy of playing like a kid on a made up course.