Swim, Bike ... RUN

The medic was pouring ice cold water over me, barely even waiting for my permission. In a reversal of roles, my daughter Kelsey was hovering, telling me to go sit down in the shade. She told me later that I had looked pretty bad.

Only the afternoon before, when I announced to my husband (a nationally ranked Ironman) that I was going to race, I was mostly joking. But somehow after the words came out of my mouth, they became a decision. It was the afternoon before The 19^th Annual Granite Bay Triathlon, a sprint distance triathlon: .75-mile swim, 13-mile bike, 5-mile run. I knew that the bike would be no problem, but I swim only occasionally just 50 laps of a sparkling clean pool. And I don’t run.

So I sorted through my clothing options. An old one-piece bathing suit and scratched up goggles, a pair of bike shorts with minimal padding. My shoes that only ever see the inside of the gym. And my Rudy Project glasses. Those were essential. Kelsey offered to loan me a running visor, which I refused because I don’t usually run with a hat. I don’t run.

My husband reminded me that I don’t run. I really don’t. In fact, I hate running. I told him that all of that time on the boring elliptical trainer at the gym has got to count toward something. And to prove my point, I put on my shoes and ran a mile around the neighborhood. See? I can run!

The good thing about deciding the day before is that there wasn’t a lot of time for nerves to get in my way. My friend Kirby was racing for the first time also, and he doesn’t swim or bike. But he’s Kirby. Part of my motivation to race is to honor my daughter Kelsey. This race is hosted by TBF Racing. Kelsey is like some type of legend or best friend with these people. She has raced and won and volunteered and cheered with TBF for several years, and everyone out there knows and loves her. But right now, she is debilitated from Crohn’s Disease. She had gotten up out of bed that morning to cheer for Kirby and me. She mustered a happy face through her pain and discomfort. And all of her TBF friends were happy to see her out there. And around TBF I am known as Kelsey’s mom.

At the start of the race, the announcer asked how many people were racing for the first time. Quite a few of us raised our hands. I felt better, less of an imposter. Then we were off!! Another newbie and I had decided to start at the back of the heap. I thought through what little I knew about open-water swimming. Kelsey’s advice the night before was to alternate breathing right to left. And in between look ahead. That sounded reasonable, but when I swim at my gym. I have a side to hold onto whenever I want to stop and rest. In the lake there’s no side and no bottom to stand on. And this water was not sparkling clean. As I swam, I heard the woman behind me (yes, behind me) gasping.  The monitor on the kayak instinctively followed alongside her. I stopped and reminded her that he was there, but she stubbornly refused to stop to hang on.  I couldn’t see the buoy, so I followed the feet in front of me and tried not to get kicked. The only other swimming tip that I could recall was that in triathlon, you swim with your arms and save your legs for the run. I kept trying to remind myself to save my legs, but when I was as far away from shore as I’ve ever been in my life, I was also thinking that I really wanted to make it back safely, and I didn’t want to hang onto the kayak.

At last the gooey shore was under my feet, and I ran through the swim finish. I high-fived the new girl who had started with me, as we got out of the water at the same time. The lake was low, so we had about ½-mile to trudge up the hill to get to our bike transition. I decided against running back to transition, thinking that I’d better save my legs for the run.

At bike transition I realized there were some details of triathlon I’d wished I had learned ahead of time. My feet were covered in sand, and now it was time to put on socks. I wished I’d packed extra water to clean them off. I brushed them off the best I could with my towel, got into my bike gear, had some water and a handful of peanuts and headed out. I’m not going to say that the bike was easy. It was relatively uneventful. I did drop my chain (which has been an annoying issue lately). And I learned something very interesting. One of the bicyclists stopped and asked if I needed help. How nice and unexpected that offer was! I was fine. I didn’t need help, but it was encouraging that he genuinely wanted to help. The one bit of bike advice I knew was to “spin.” Keep your bike in a lower gear and save your legs for the run.

On these sprint distance triathlons, you see all different shapes, sizes, and abilities. I have a pretty decent bike. There were plenty of cruiser bikes and racers with sneakers. I even saw some pedals with straps. Of course plenty of people were in it for the competition, but I’d say that most, like me, were in it for the experience. Ok, I’ll confess, I did make a point to power past a couple people on the bike.

Triathlon is a cruel sport. They make you do the worst thing last. Running. I don’t run.

I had already decided to run in my bike shorts and bathing suit. I know that I did not make much of a fashion statement, but it was the best choice with practically no time to prepare. And I did, after all, have my Rudy Projects. So all I had to do at the second transition was hang my bike on the rack and change shoes. Oh yes, take off the helmet. I only remembered that because of how many times Kelsey had mentioned it before the race. Take off the helmet.

I started off the run at a walk. Yes, I didn’t even run onto the course. I wanted to actually drink the water and Gatorade that were handed to me rather than wear them. I figured that I could probably run a mile before needing to walk. After all, I had proven to my husband just the night before that I could run a mile. And so I started to run. I planned to run to the 1-mile marker. Trail running is a lot different than the running that I don’t do in my neighborhood. It’s bumpy. And hilly. And hot. Well, maybe I wouldn’t run the whole first mile. I’d run most of it and then walk. Well, maybe I’ll run a little and walk a little. After a few rounds of running and walking, I hit the 1-mile marker. Really? Only a mile?? Maybe they hadn’t measured that one very well. Maybe I should have gone to the bathroom before I ran. But it’s only 5 miles. I’ll be fine.

As the run course went past the park area, I took one more look at the bathrooms. These were clean. I don’t want to stop at a porta potty. But, no, I’ll be fine, I thought. It’s less than 4 more miles. By this time, my cycles of running were becoming shorter, and walking was becoming longer. I was saving my legs for the last 2 miles.

There were people handing out water and more Gatorade. Kelsey had told me to stay hydrated, so I took both. At least I tried to. An issue with my spine makes it difficult for me to grab things with my right hand, so that first cup of Gatorade ended up spilling down my front. The volunteers handed me another. I drank the Gatorade and most of the water. I was sure there’d be another bathroom. I poured the rest of my water down my shoulders to cool down. I was hot. That hat would have been nice to have.

In triathlon, even though it’s a race, everyone is very supportive. The racers and staff and volunteers all want to see you accomplish your goals. My friend Nanc was volunteering by holding back traffic at an intersection. I made sure that I was running when I passed her. She called out to me, “Good job, Deborah.” I waved at her happily, appreciating her encouragement. As soon as I’d passed by, I was back to a walk. I was saving my legs for that last mile.

It’s amazing how much farther each mile looks on hills and dirt than it does in my neighborhood. Fewer and fewer people were behind me know. I wondered a couple times if there was anyone at all. I kept going, thinking that right around the corner, it would get easier and that maybe there’d be a portapotty.

Finally, I reach the last turnaround. There was Mark Davis, a TBF staffer cheering me on. He recognized me with “You’re Kelsey’s person” and followed along for several yards while detailing the remainder of the course. There was Nanc again. Waving and encouraging. I did not bother to smile or pretend to run. I waved back, but not the friendly kind of wave. I was saving my legs and my energy for the last ½ mile.

At last the bumpy trail smoothed out, and soon I was on the straightaway, the parking lot. This I should be able to run. But here was the bathroom. Yes! I would make a stop at the bathroom and then run the rest of the way in.

And so I did. The announcer said my name, and my husband and Kelsey and Kirby were all there waiting for me. And so was the medic. Apparently, I did not look too good when I got there, but I cooled down quickly. Kirby had finished a full 30 minutes before me. But he’s Kirby.

And so ended my first and ONLY triathlon. I finished. I was not last. But so many of my friends have offered their congratulations. People are talking about my accomplishment. I was congratulated again on Monday at the gym.

I’ll need to start running.