dynamic elf

Race: Started 45+ minutes late because the portajohns were not delivered on time. Other than that, it was a lovely little race and it was clear that half the town had come out for it. The sidelines of the bike and run course had tons of people cheering on the racers -- some every 20-30 yards for most of the distance. I had a good enough time that I will probably do the race again next year.

Swim: I met my rather modest swim goal (30 minutes for half a mile, since that isn't far off from the minimum necessary pace to finish an Ironman-distance swim). This put me among the slower swimmers in my start wave, but I don't feel bad, since I've been swimming twice in the past two years. I was in wave 3 out of 5 -- my wave was "women over 40 and Athenas". An "Athena" is a female competitor who weighs over 150#, which, I will note, I do even when I'm in peak physical condition. But whatever. I was glad I bought goggles at the last minute from the Tyr booth.

Open water swim starts are kind of terrifying! I'm very glad I'm confident in the water, since the feeling of having people literally swim over top of me without stopping is alarming. That seems to be the way it goes, though. Before long, I flipped over and finished the course in a backstroke since the people running in to me were pissing me off, and being pissed off wasn't helpful. Anyway, the water was warm, and the course was decent.

Transition #1: I ran over the timing mat and up to the bike area. I suddenly understood why people had little towels and even tiny bins of water in their transition areas, since even with the foot bath they had us run through, my feet were dirty. I put on my socks and bike shoes, then my gloves and helmet, downed a packet of Gu, and took off on the bike leg. I'm sure I took WAY too long in this area; I am pretty sure that all-velcro bike shoes would be a huge improvement, and I am definitely bringing a little towel, next time. I wonder if you can bike in no socks?

Bike: It was a 10-mile bike course. I passed more people than passed me, but not by a lot. I was saving myself for the run, since that was the part I was scared of. It wasn't a cinch, though -- the course had rolling hills, and a couple of the uphills had me cranking in my lowest gear for a while. I still have a long way to go before I'm even half-decent at climbs. On the other hand, my superior momentum combined with a congenital lack of caution allow me to crush smaller women on downhills. It was a nice bike course on a lovely day, and their cautions about the crappy pavement turned out to be unfounded.

Oh! Also, I rode my Softride bike. For a bike with bar-end shifters that I got secondhand for a few hundred bucks six years ago, it certainly gets a lot of compliments at a triathlon. AND, I did find that the beam saved my legs somewhat; it was actually pretty easy to go right to running.

Transition #2: Much simpler: hang the handlebars back over the metal post, pop off my bike shoes and strip off my gloves, and put on my running shoes. Then, however, I had to pin my race number to my chest. I noticed that other people had already pinned their run number to tank tops that they just slipped on. I might try this. Back out of the transition area and over the mat to start the run. This means that when I get my leg times, they will be [swim leg], [transition #1, bike leg, transition #2], and [run leg]. Interesting.

Run: "Part of the run is on a trail", they said. "The course runs slow." I didn't think much of this, especially after their warnings about the pavement didn't pan out. But in reality, nearly HALF of the run course was on a trail. A good portion of that was through the woods, over dirt and roots and rocks. It was gorgeous and fun, and a perfect day out for it. Unfortunately, the morning's torrential rains had made the path a river of mud, especially when 350 people had already 'run' the course before me. My shoes are now brown and muddy, and at one point, I even lost my left shoe to the mud and didn't figure out what was going on until I felt my foot plop down. Ah well -- retrace my step, extract the shoe, slip it on, and laugh, as there's nothing else to do. After the muddy part (I now feel as if I made it to Firefly this year), the trail took a steep turn up, and became a half-mile mountain climb. Again, lovely, but not really "runnable", for me. At the top of the hill, we came out onto a paved road and ran downhill to the finish line.

Is it "magical thinking", when you say to yourself, "okay, okay, if I can just keep running to the top of this hill then surely I will get [completely unrelated great thing] once I cross the finish line"? Whatever it is, I absolutely engage in it. And no, I'm not telling you what my imaginary reward is.

Overall: what a great day! My run time was probably abysmal, but I did run the nearly 2 miles that were paved. And everybody on the sidelines shouting "nice job! go #273!" really brightened my spirits. The one woman walking her dog who stopped and looked at me and then yelled, "YOU ARE AN INSPIRATION!" made me grin like a crazy woman. After the race, I got a kiwi from the national kiwifruit council stand or whatever, packed up my bags, skipped the Rotary club barbecue and free massage (!), and headed back to the car, feeling good. I had one perfect ripe peach waiting for me there, which I had been looking forward to for the last mile or so of the race. Under the windshield was a flyer for two triathlons in the area on August 13th -- one is a 1/4 mile swim, 10 mile bike, and 2.5 mile run, and the other is a 1 mile swim, 20 mile bike, and a six mile run. I might just try one of those. Haven't decided which one, yet. Anyway, once I'd loaded my gear back onto the car and started off, I rolled down the window, broke out the napkins, and polished off my peach. Just lovely.