Race Day Continued...

Sunday, June 10th

8:34am- The horn blares and I am immediately propelled forward by the other members of my wave group.  Because I am swimming without my glasses, I am essentially blind.  I've decided to hug the buoy line in the hopes that it will keep me going in the right direction.  What I don't anticipate is that the seasoned competitors will also hug the buoy line because it is the shortest route through the course.  It was a bad decision, but I'm surrounded on all sides, front and back.  I have to make the best of the situation.  I continue on my feet as far as I can, about 20 feet from the start.  When I can no longer bounce along and stay with the pack, I fling myself forward and dig my arms through the water. I am pushing hard, so I don't get pulled under or swum over.  Each stroke and kick I take is hitting my competitors.  The water is churning and I am caught off guard by the choppiness.  This is one the craziest things I've ever done.  I don't care how long this takes, I just want to live through it.

8:40am- I have just reached the first buoy and need to make a sharp turn to the right.  I feel like I've been swimming for hours and not just minutes.  Several of my competitors seemed to panic when they hit the deep water (15 feet).  I'm so grateful I grew up swimming in lakes because now I feel at home in the murky, deep water of the quarry.  As I pull around into the first stretch back toward the beach, I take a hard kick to the head.  Crap, that hurt.  I pull my head up in time to see another yellow cap pop out of the water.  The other girl yells out to see if I'm okay.  She keeps apologizing until I wave her to go on.  I'm okay or at least my head is fine, but I'm starting to wonder if I can really complete this swim.  I pushed so hard at the beginning that I'm already feeling exhausted.  I'm less than half way through.  There is nothing to be done, but to keep swimming.  I put my head back down and channel Michael Phelps.

8:50am- I am nearing the final buoy of the course.  My arms feel like they are on fire and I know that if it wasn't for the opportunity to walk around the buoys closest to the beach, I wouldn't have made it this far.  At several points, I swam past competitors with swim buddies and was blessed to be encouraged by them.  One yelled out that I was doing an awesome job and not to give up.  Another told me to rest when I needed to and to pace myself.  They should really be called swim angels, now swim buddies.

8:55am- My toes touch the quarry floor and I am now running towards the swim finish gate.  I hear Hubs yelling from the beach to run.  I flash him an exhausted smile and plow forward with my best Baywatch impression.  As I near the sand, I hear my sister-in-law shout out.  I head towards her, she's standing alongside Kaylee's stroller.  My sister-in-law holds out my glasses and shorts.  I grab them as I jog by.  The run to the transition area from the beach is up hill (of course it is- wry smile).  On my way up, I am handed a cup of water.  My arms are shaking so much that the majority of the water sloshes to the ground.  Leaving the beach behind, I head towards the transition area.  With my glasses on, I can easily see my space because of my balloon.

8:57am- I arrive at my transition area.  My bike is the last one on the rack, but to my surprise there are several bikes still left on the wave #24 rack across the aisle.  This gives me a boost; I am not last.  I peel off my swim cap and exchange it for my Bondi Band and my bike helmet.  I strap on my BIB belt and then flop to the ground to clean the sand off my feet.  I'm shaking, so I'm doing a poor job with the sand.  I have to give up because I think I'm wasting too much time.  I grab my running socks and slip them on, followed by my running shoes.  Then, I slowly pull myself to my feet and unhang my bike from the rack.  No one is allowed to ride their bike in transition.  Instead, I have to run/walk it up to the mounting area about a quarter mile from my balloon.  As I push my bike, I shake out my legs.  I'm trying to psych myself up for the bike by telling myself the swim is over.  Praise God.  It's been 6.26 minutes since I began transition #1.

9:03am- The mounting area is highlighted by chalk on the ground.  Two men are there to monitor the competitors.  I swing my leg over the bike and lock in my first foot.  With a strong push-off, I am on my way.  As I lock in my second foot, I hear Hubs, his brother, and my sister-in-law shouting out encouragement.  I've only been riding 14.2 miles on the College's stationary bikes, so I don't quite know what I'm in for.

9:13am- The first ten minutes have been good, except that the bike is stuck in too high of a gear.  My legs are spinning a mile a minute, but I'm not getting anywhere.  I am trying to shift, but I don't want to hurt the bike.  My biggest fear with this leg of the tri is having a bike problem I can't fix and getting disqualified from the race.  Tentatively, I keep fiddling with the gears until I finally feel the pedals catch and I'm finally in a lower gear.

9:30am- I am about half way through the bike course.  This is a double loop course, so I need to remember to make two laps.  The announcer was teasing on Saturday that anyone who can count to 2 can compete in this triathlon.  My mind is more calm now, so I guess I qualify.  I'm really enjoying the bike.  I am moving at my own pace and there is a cool breeze blowing (so much so that I've pulled my Bondi Band down over my ears).  What's more, the girls on the course are so encouraging.  Almost everyone who's passed me or that I've passed, has shouted out an encouragement.  What I don't like is that there are a lot of competitors who aren't following the bike rules laid out in the participant manual.  Of course, I have the rules memorized-- No drafting, no blocking, passing has to be within 15 seconds and must be announced, slower bikers to the right, passing only on the right, etc.  People are passing all over the place and on the left and the right.  I have to stay alert.  This is not the place to get hurt or wreck the bike... It's too hot out (90 degrees) and the walk back to the transition area would be long.

10:00am- I am closing in on the end of the bike leg.  I just passed the point where other competitors are looping around for their second lap.  There are more spectators on this portion of the bike route.  Many of them have signs and/or cow bells.  I head down a hill, cross a bridge, and now I am in the final stretch.  I can see the dismount area straight ahead.  Karen told me a few days ago that although the transition from bike to run is known to be the most difficult, if I purposely slow my heart-rate in the last three minutes of the bike leg, it should help ease the switch.  I'm 10 feet away from dismount.  All of a sudden, I hear my name shouted out.  It is Hubs and Mary (one of my dear co-workers and friends).  I am so happy to see them that I forget the dismount and have to pull my bike to a sharp stop.  Struggling to unlock my shoes from the pedals, I wobble and for a moment, I think I'm going to fall.  I get my left foot to the ground at the last possible second and manage to catch my balance.  One of the race aids reaches out to steady me.  Careful, he warns, my legs are going to feel like jelly... and they do.  He keeps his left arm out to catch me if I should go fall and points with his free hand in the direction I'm supposed to go.

10:02am- I've arrived back at the transition area and my legs still feel like cooked noodles.  First things first, I rehang my bike.  Then, I unstrap my bike helmet and hang it on a handlebar.  I pull my Bondi Band back off my ears and reach for a Nalgene.  I take 2-3 smaller swigs of water and then grab some Clif Bloks to chew.  As I get ready to head towards the run, I take one more larger swig of water and grab one more Clif Blok.  It's been a fast transition, 3:02 minutes, but I'm ready to run.  Hubs and Mary see me off.  Mary has considered jumping in to join me, but she says I'm looking strong and should finish on my own.

10:05am- The sun is high in the sky now and without the forward momentum of the bike, there is no breeze.  I'm relieved to be in the final leg of the race, but I know this is going to test my endurance.  The run begins by winding through a small wood.  Several people have posted signs for the racers.  One reads, "Kick Assphalt, Emily." Sassy.  Another reads, "Run, Mommy, Run!" Sweet.

10:10am- The wooded section of the run was short and now I'm running in direct sunlight.  Sweat is poring down my face.  It seems like a lot of competitors are walking, but I won't let myself.  The slower I move, the longer the race is going to last.  I need this to be over.  The one mile marker has a water station and although I normally don't drink while I run, I grab a water cup out of one of the volunteer's hands.  I get about one sip and then toss the rest.  Just ahead of me is one of the girls from my wave that I remember from just before the swim.  I run up along side her and tell her she's doing an awesome job.  She tells me I'm looking strong and to keep pushing.  So I do.

10:20am- I'm tired, but I've found my groove as I near mile marker 2.  My legs no longer feel shaky. I grab another cup of water from the aid station and a handful of ice.  The ice feels good on my hot palms.  This station also has a mist machine.  A few yards back, a little boy asked if he could spray me with a hose and I let him.  He was incredibly enthusiastic and kept spraying me for as long as the water would reach.  Bless his little heart.  I hear Hubs give a shout and realize he's walked over to the run course with Mary.  They were waiting for me to come by and now they comment on my speed.  I thought I was moving at a snail's pace, but Mary says I'm motoring.  I give a hard core look for the camera and chuck my ice to the ground.  I tell them they better move or I'm going to beat them back to the finish line.  The crowds nearby overhear this and give a cheer.

10:30am- Here it is.  This is the moment I've been working for and dreaming of.  Spectators are telling me that I'm so close, only a few yards more.  As I turn off the main road and head down the final path to the finish, I spy Karen up ahead.  When she sees me coming, she starts jumping up and down and yelling.  I speed up when I see her.  I can't believe I have the energy.  This is the grand finale.  As I run past Karen, I throw my hand up for a high five.  

10:32am- The finish line is now in full view.  I can hear the announcer reading off the names of the people passing the finish line.  I am flat out sprinting when I cross the line.  A race official catches me on the other side and hands me my medal with a quick congratulations.  I can see Hubs and Mary waiting for me.  I can hear Hubs lamenting that he missed me cross the finish; saying I was too fast.  Before I can reach them, another race official is asking for my ankle bracelet and chip.  There is a $30 fee for not returning them, so I slip the bracelet off and walk through the finish chute into the recovery area.  I walk up to the fence to hug Hubs.  He gives me a sweet victory kiss and then Mary gives me a big hug.  I can feel my legs start to seize up as they congratulate me.  Mary (veteran marathon runner) advises me to grab a banana.  I double back to the recovery table and grab a banana, a cold water bottle, and an iced towel.  Then, Karen is rushing into the recovery zone to give me a hug.

I am done.  I did it.  I am a triathlete.  Amen.

Of course, there is plenty of after-the-race information to share, but you've waited long enough for my stats.  Here they are:

BIB #1564
WAVE #24
Start time: 8:34
Overall: 1168 out of 1494
Division Place: 166 out of 197
Swim: 21:27
Transition #1: 6:26
Bike: 59:40
Transition #2: 3:02
Run: 31:43
Time: 2:02:17

Race Day

Sunday, June 10th


5am- The alarm clock begins to blare and I drag myself out of bed to shut it off, giving Hubs a few more minutes of sleep.  Surprisingly, I slept well.  Just the night before I had considered taking melatonin to help me slumber, but had decided against it in the off chance that it would affect my energy level on race day.  The gamble seems to have paid off, but with the morning sun my nerves have returned.  As I brush my teeth at the bathroom sink, my hands are shaking.

5:15am- Hubs has pulled himself out of bed and into the bathroom.  I contemplate jumping in the shower to snap myself awake, but decide against it and instead I busy myself with pulling my hair back into tight pigtails that will last throughout the day.  That accomplished, I slip into my swimsuit and running shorts, choosing to don my North Face fleece even though the day promises to get hot.

5:30am- I'm in the kitchen munching on a PB&J while Hubs is outside fighting with the bike rack on the car.  Between bites of sandwich, I am sipping water from one of my Nalgene bottles.  I am taking everyone's advice and starting to hydrate early and often.  My reusable grocery bag is packed with my gear and waiting at the front door.  My bike is waiting patiently outside.  I'm pretty sure I have everything I need.  I lift up a silent prayer for courage and head for the door.

5:40am- I am getting impatient, Hubs is still fighting with the bike rack.  My plan was to get to the race by 6am, giving me 45 solid minutes to set up my transition area and figure out where everything is.  I am starting to think I'm not going to have as much time as I wanted.  I don't like to be rushed and Hubs knows it.  Just as I begin to suggest we put the bike in the back seat, my cell phone buzzes.  It is a text message from my co-worker, Karen (you might remember Karen from my Greece trip last year), she has already arrived at the race and is wondering if I'm there as well.  I respond we're on our way and it must have been a magic response because Hubs suddenly announces we're ready to roll.

Karen and I enjoying dinner on the beach, Mykonos, Greece

6am- We've arrived at the race, but traffic is a gridiron and multiple roads are blocked off.  We had planned to park at the local high school, but we can't figure out how to get there .  Instead, I suggest that Hubs drop me off at the entrance to the transition area.  The rules stated that no one was to be dropped off, but there are multiple people doing it and I am freaking out that I'm not going to have enough time if I don't get out of the car now.  Hubs pulls the car over behind an SUV and unstraps my bike from the rack.  With a promise to park the car and come find me, he jumps back in the car and I begin the short trek to the transition area gate.  I feel incredibly alone even though I am moving in a herd of athletes and well-wishers.

6:05am- As I approach the transition area, I am asked to show my event wristband.  I put mine on the night before, so I lift my right arm and I'm immediately waved through the gates with the instructions to find my wave number listed on the bike racks.  Transition is a sea of bikes, but the wave numbers are posted in bright colors and it only takes me a few minutes to find racks labeled #24.  I intentionally choose an open spot close to the fence because I reason it will make it easier to find my stuff.  There are 4 girls already on the rack, but they are open and friendly-- all first time competitors.  At first, I think they already know each other and I worry I am impeding on their group, but I come to find out that they all just met. This is certainly not what I expected.  Together, we figure out where our bike stickers are supposed to be placed and how to hang our bikes on the rack (by the seat).  It seems that each girl has a different strength, but we all fear the swim the most.  My nerves calm just a bit.

6:15am- I've got my transition area all set up.  My bike is hung, my ankle strap is on my left leg with my timing chip in place.  I have my running shoes set with a sock in each.  My bike helmet is ready to be strapped on along with my BIB belt.  I am running through my final inspection when I hear someone calling my name.  Looking up, it's Karen.  I am so excited to see her (someone I actually know) that I give her a big, impulsive hug.  Karen is competing with her friend, Lynn, a tri veteran and after introductions, they invite me to walk towards the quarry beach (where the swim will take place).

6:20am- We've made our way over towards the porta potties.  I hate porta potties, but all the water and Powerade Zero I've been drinking leaves me no other options.

6:30am- We've made our way down to the beach.  The quarry has been transformed into a 1/2 mile race course complete with huge, blow-up start and finish gates.  Seeing the course firsthand is daunting; it looks so much longer than it did in the participant guide.  Lynn explains that within 10 minutes of our wave start, we'll be asked to line up with our groups.  With 1 minute to start, we'll be led out into thigh deep water to wait for the horn.  She explains that the swim is not about technique; it is about survival and just getting through.

6:40am- We've walked back to the transition area with 5 minutes left to grab everything we need for the swim leg.  Transition will be cleared at 6:45am to make way for athletes grabbing their bikes during transition #1.  I decide to keep my running shorts, flip flops, and glasses with me--Hoping Hubs can hold them while I swim and then hand them back as I dash to my bike.  I've also grabbed my swim goggles and yellow, race-issued swim cap.  Satisfied I have everything I need, I head over towards the beach to meet Hubs.  He is waiting for me wearing his Team Lacey/My wife ROX t-shirt.

6:55am- The beach is packed.  Hubs and I have landed ourselves under the shade of some brush trees.  A young woman sings the national anthem and then the SheROX announcer calls for the first four waves to line up on the sand.  The elites will set off at exactly 7am.  The second wave is for ovarian cancer survivors, then the relay teams will set off, followed by the oldest age group- 56+.

7am- The elites have been led into the water.  They look anxious and ready to go.  At exactly 7am, the horn blares and they are off.  I am amazed by how fast they fly in the water.

7:08am- The first elite competitor is already out of the water and running towards the transition area for her bike.  Meanwhile, the next two waves have been released-- a new wave starting every 4 minutes.  There are 31 waves in all.

7:34am- Karen's wave has entered the water and I give her a huge shout of encouragement.  Part of me wishes I could be starting with her because the waiting is torture.  I am once again, a bundle of nerves.

8:20am- I slip my swim cap over my pigtails and wiggle it into position.  That done, I slide my swim goggles onto my head and hand Hubs my glasses.  I take off my running shorts and hand those to Hubs as well.  With a quick kiss, I head towards the sand to stand with the rest of my wave.  Without my glasses and with my hearing impaired by the swim cap, I feel like I'm stranded on an island.  I am dimly aware of the arrival of my brother and sister-in-law--shouting out good luck wishes from the stands with Hubs.  I throw them two thumbs up and then inch my way towards the water as another wave is released.

8:30am- Wave #23 has been released, which means my wave is next.  There is a cameraman immediately to my right and I give a nervous wave when he passes the camera down the line.  I'm so scared for the swim, I don't even realize I'm being filmed in my swimsuit.

8:33am- Suddenly, the announcer is asking us to enter the water.  The water temp is 78 degrees, but it feels chilly.  We walk out a few feet and stop.  Not sure what to do, I splash water up and down my arms.  When we're asked how many are competing for the first time, over half the group raises their hands.  30 seconds to go.  We are asked if anyone wants to swim with a swim buddy (local swim team members who've volunteered to swim alongside competitors and offer emotional support).  One person from the group raises her hand.  15 seconds.  I take a huge breathe, lean forward... and the horn blares.  I'm off.

A Triathlete is Born

I've done it! I am a certified triathlete (or sprint triathlete anyway).

There is a lot to share with you and I don't want to leave anything out.  To accomplish that, I am going to approach the race timeline-style.

I know, I know--Everyone is dying to know how I did at the triathlon, but to get the whole picture I first need to share about my Saturday.  Here goes...


Saturday, June 9th

8am- Hubs and I wake up to our screaming alarm, scramble to get ready for the day and head over to Hub's brother's house to watch our 3 year old nephew, Noah, and his new little sister, Kaylee.  This is a last minute change to our plans because Hub's father fell and injured his back, so Hub's parents couldn't watch the kids as planned.

8:30am- Hubs and Noah are in the backyard having a duel with Nerf swords.  I am in the dining room getting Kaylee ready to go to the SheROX Expo to check in for the triathlon and pick up my race packet.  I grab a bottle and get Kaylee fed while Noah takes Hubs down with a move Zorro would be proud of.

9:30am- Hubs and I strap Noah and Kaylee into their mom's mini van and set out for the Expo.  5 minutes out, I realize I forgot to grab Kaylee an extra bottle from the fridge, so we make a quick trip back by the house.  Extra bottle in hand, we rock out to toddler tunes all the way to the Expo.  The ants go marching 2 by 2, hurrah, hurrah...

10am- We arrive at the Expo and the place is already packed.  It is not at all like I expected; it's just like a carnival or fair filled with booths, music, and lots of people.  Our first stop is to the Dunkin Donuts van for free iced coffee samples-- My training packet said to start hydrating the day before the race and this seems a good way to begin.  Next stop, the check-in tent where I give my BIB number (1564) and show my photo ID.  The lady in the tent hands me a white envelope containing my BIB, helmet sticker, bike sticker, ankle strap, timing chip, and safety pins.  The only problem is, I have no idea what to do with any of these things. I'm such a newbie.

10:30am- Pushing the stroller and trying to keep an eye on Noah, we head down the long line of booths towards the gazebo where an informational race meeting is about to begin.  It was strongly suggested that all first time competitors attend.  That would be me.

10:35am- Approximately 300 women are gathered for the meeting where a SheROX official walks us through each leg of the race--the swim, the bike, and the run.  He talks through the rules and stresses time and again, the importance of hydration.  The temperature is already in the high 80s and it is supposed to be up to 93 degrees on Sunday.  I am on information overload and am starting to panic that I'm not going to be able to remember everything.  I'll be the one to forget my swim goggles or my bike helmet.

11am- The meeting is over and as the crowd disperses, I push the stroller back up to the body marking station.  Halfway there, Hubs spots the Luna sponsor tent that has materials out for well-wishers to make signs for the athletes.  We take a few moments for Hubs and Noah to each make a sign and then walk next door to the Toyota tent to register for raffles. Some lucky lady is going to win a pretty amazing road bike. While at the Toyota tent, I pick up a free BIB belt after sitting in a new 2013 Prius.

11:20am- I'm up next for body marking.  The lady in charge takes what looks like a permanent marker and writes my bib number down each of my arms.  Then, she bends over and writes my wave number (24) on my right calf.  This may sound weird, but it all becomes real in that moment.  I now bear the marks of a triathlete.  I am woman.  Hear me roar.

Noon- We stop by Panera for a quick lunch.  The girl at the register sees my body markings and asks if they are tattoos.  I kindly explain that I'm running a triathlon in the morning... and can I please have bread as my side instead of the normal apple.  Make it a double.

2pm- My sister-in-law returns home to her kids and gives me some last minute advice on competing in the tri.  She reiterates the importance of staying hydrated and says I shouldn't stop drinking water even after the race is over.  She loans me two water bottles for the bike leg and says she'll see me at the race in the morning even though little Kaylee is getting baptized at 11am Sunday morning.

2:30pm- Hubs and I stop by the grocery store where I buy 2 more bottles of Powerade Zero (fruit punch flavored) and a big, blue balloon that reads "Go Team!"  I'm hoping the balloon will help me identify my transition area amidst the crowds.

6pm- Hubs is busy mowing the lawn and I am inside organizing and packing my race gear.  I've laid out my swimsuit, running shorts, and flip flops on my dresser.  The rest of my loot is packed in a reusable grocery bag, ready to be laid out at my transition area the next morning.  I've placed my bike on the front porch after decorating the handlebars with a small banner that reads, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."  The other side reads, "You can do this. Dig deep!"

9pm- After downing copious amounts of water and Powerade Zero, I am ready for bed.  I know I'm going to need to get up early the next morning-- My alarm is set for 5am.  I've rechecked my gear 20 times and had Hubs check and recheck the pressure in my bike tires.  I've read the SheROX athlete manual more times than I can remember.  There is nothing more I can do now, but sleep. 

 

Packing Heat

As a novice, I am completely unaware of what happens at a triathlon (other than the fact that I am going to swimming, biking and running in that order).  It should come as no surprise then, that I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to need. 

To remedy the situation, I've done some internet research and I've turned to some of my experienced tri-competitor friends. This is what I've come up with, God help me:

• 2 pairs of swim goggles (one pair to wear and one to have just in case the other breaks).  This works out perfectly because I can take my own mirrored pair and then Hub's regular, clear pair.  If it is sunny, I can wear mine and if it is cloudy, I can wear Hubs (after adjusting the size).  In case you are wondering, we own Speedo Vanquisher Swim Goggles. 
• Swim cap.  This is being supplied by the competition.  Each wave gets a different colored swim cap.  My age range, 26-30, is wearing yellow.  
• Watch.  This is not required, but it's a personal preference.  I need to be able to check the time and see how I'm pacing.  If I couldn't see the time, I'd go crazy.  I have a Timex T5K410 Ironman 30-Lap watch. It is water resistant to 330 feet and it's not too bulky.
•  Running shoes.  I am actually in the market for a new pair of running shoes, but I don't want to get them until after the triathlon.  So for now, I'm sticking with my Asics GEL- Nimbus.  They have been faithful shoes and we've been through a lot together.  
• Running socks.  I just bought some Thorlo Experia running socks at Sports Authority.  They were $18, buy one get one free.  I never thought I'd buy socks that were that expensive, but they came highly recommended.  I've run in them about 5 times and must say they are comfortable and they keep my feet dry.  Would I buy them again over my $5 Adidas running socks from T.J.Maxx, I don't know.
• Microfiber Towels.  The towels are essential to my transition between swimming and biking.  I don't care so much about drying off as I do about being able to wipe the sand off of my feet before I put on my socks and running shoes.  I do not want to be running a 5K with gritty feet.  
• Flip flops or sandals.  These are for after the race, when I will just want to take off my running shoes and fall over.
• Bike helmet.  This is essential and the race marshals won't let anyone compete without one (rightfully so).  I am borrowing my bike helmet for the race, but it is a Bell racing helmet.  Before the race, I'll stick my race number on the front of it.
• Bike.  Whoever forgets their bike will look totally stupid... Man, I hope I don't forget my bike.  Actually, it's not even my bike, it's my sister-in-law's bike.  She is letting me borrow it for the race.  It is a TREK mountain bike, but it has hybrid tires and foot cages.  She offered to let me ride her road bike, but seeing as how I've never ridden one before- we decided now wouldn't be the best time to start.  The bike will also get its own identifying stickers.
• Water bottle.  Water and Gatorade will be plentiful at the race, but there are no drink stations during the bike portion, so I need to pack 1-2 water bottles.  I am planning to have one full Nalgene on the bike and one at my transition area.  I tend to under-hydrate, so I want to fight that by surrounding myself with water.
• Fuel.  Last night, I went out and bought some Clif Shot Bloks- strawberry flavored chewies.  They are all natural, fat free, but pack the carbs and electrolytes needed.  According to the package, athletes should eat 3 to 6 blocks per hour. I am also packing a pb&j for after the race. 
• Tank top.  Again, this is a personal preference.  I wasn't going to bring one-- I was just going to race in my swimsuit and running shorts, but then I found out that I have to attach a number bib after the swim.  I don't want to be fiddling with safety pins during my first transition, so I am pre-attaching the bib to my tank top and throwing it on when I exit the water.
• Swimsuit.  Duh.  Well, I guess that isn't exactly a "duh" since people run in all kinds of things--shorts and a sports bra, a tri suit, shorts and a tank, just a swimsuit, etc.  I am going to be racing in my Nike swimsuit and red Nike running shorts.  When the swim portion is over, I'm going to throw on my Three Lakes, WI tank top (a gift from Mom) for good luck.
• Hair ties.  My hair is just getting long enough where hair ties are a must have item.  I also borrowed a Bondi Band from my friend (the one who was going to race with me, but is now pregnant).  The Bondi Band is good because it is wide enough to cover my ears during the cycling portion (the wind tends to give me an ear ache), it is moisture wicking, and it stays put on my oddly shaped head.  I've never tried a headband that would stay put on my head- until now.

I think that about covers it.  I am trying to keep it to the bare minimum to make my transitions as smooth and fast as possible.  A lot of racers will bring hydration belts, bike maintenance kits, bike pumps, dishes of water to wash feet, bike shoes in addition to running shoes, wet suits, and so on and so on.  I am no expert, I am just a beginner who wants as little fuss as possible.

Lessons from the Prairie Path

In preparation for this weekend’s SheROX Triathlon, I have been riding my sister-in-law’s TREK mountain bike to work.  It is a 6 mile ride one way or 12 miles roundtrip. 

Besides for honing my cycling skills and giving me a good cardio burn, I’ve picked up some important lessons from riding on the Prairie Path. 

Lesson #1:

 Keep my mouth shut.  This one is hard for me to do, even when I’m by myself.  Yet, it offers multiple benefits.  Such as, it prevents bugs from flying down my throat (I think I’ve swallowed about 20 so far).  And, it helps me tune in to the beautiful soundtrack of the path (i.e. frogs croaking, the wind in the trees, distant traffic, children playing, fellow travelers bidding me a good day).  There is a lot to hear, if one is willing to be quiet for a while.  And I haven’t even mentioned the spiritual implications of taking time for silence.  How many times have I accused God of not communicating with me, only to realize I haven’t taken the time to listen.

Lesson #2:

 Focus on the path ahead.  My first ride on the Prairie Path drove this lesson home.  I was riding along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I came across a large (disgusting) snake slithering through the gravel.  I swerved last minute to avoid flattening the snake’s middle, but my front wheel caught in a pothole.  I almost flew over the handlebars and I thought I was finished, but I managed to recover and was able to continue on my way as if nothing happened.  It was a humbling experience, but now I know I need to keep my eyes focused on where I’m headed.  It is so easy to be distracted and wind up in treacherous situations. 

Lesson #3:

 I will only move as fast as I’m willing to pedal.  This seems obvious, but every once in a while I need a reminder…  If I want to excel at the triathlon for example, I need to put in the difficult, sweaty hours training.  If I want to get home in time to watch an entire episode of Chopped, I have to pedal in a lower gear at a faster pace.  A lot of people ask me what my weight loss secret is.  They seem to think I have some magic answer and I wish I did, but the truth of the matter is that it takes a lot of hard, tedious work.  You have to be willing to put in the effort.  If you do—The reward is great.

Lesson #4:

I am capable of so much more than I ever imagined.  This is a lesson that has been slowly revealing itself to me over the past year and a half.  As I’ve lost weight and been working out in new ways, I’ve discovered I can handle and finish a lot more than I ever thought I could.  I never thought I’d be able to run.  Now I run up to 4 miles at a time.  I never thought I’d be running up and down stadium stairs, but the other week I ran the equivalent of an 83 story building over my lunch hour.  I never thought I’d be riding my bike to work, let alone competing in a triathlon. 

I realize now that I tend to underestimate myself.  I’ve set my goals too low and I’ve missed out on a lot of experiences just because I didn’t believe in myself.  In other words, I can accomplish a heck of a lot more than I give myself credit for.  When I think about it—I’m pretty amazing.  I understand that may come across as pretty narcissistic, but it’s something I need to hear every once in a while.  I think we all do.  

…That is why the next time I pass someone on the Prairie Path, I am going to tell them they are amazing.

If it just so happens to be you that I pass on the Prairie Path, feel free to wish me luck this Sunday.  Just don’t expect me to take my eyes off of the trail.  I don’t want to run over any snakes.