... you better be able to walk the walk. The results are in from the Witch City Triathlon yesterday, and while I did do well in the swim and the bike, there were not as many people in my age group as I thought. So in case you actually believed me that I'm awesome, you've been Punk'd.
Okay, now that my conscience is cleared and my ego is deflated, I'm going to try to re-create the race report that disappeared last night.
Pre-Race
Salem is about a 45 minute drive away if you don't get lost, but since you have to drive about 15 minutes off the freeway to get to Salem in the first place, and since my sense of direction is so bad I could get lost in a walk-in closet (PLEASE, no comments from the peanut gallery), I wanted to get on the road at 5:15 to leave plenty of time to get to the race on time for the 7:00 start time. This meant a 3:45 wakeup call in order to leave plenty of time for coffee, bagels, and wrestling my rented bike into the back of my mom's Camry. So, like a good little munchkin I tucked myself in at 11:00 to try to get as much sleep as possible. As an insomniac, my body does not react well to bed times. I tried to relax, and forbade myself from thinking about the race or doubting my alarm clock. I tried to go to my happy place. I don't have a happy place. At 12:00 I turned the light on and read a chapter in my book, then snuggled back in. I started to doze off, and thought, I think I'm dreaming. Snap! I was awake. Just relaaaax. What if I never fall asleep? Don't think about it. If I fall asleep right now I'll only get 3 hours' sleep. Relaaaax... At 1:30 I picked up my blanket and pillow and lay down on my floor. I believe your bed can get haunted with insomnia vibes if you lie awake in it too long. I was falling into a light sleep when I heard my brother come home and stomp around the whole house and snapped awake again. I moved back to the bed where I couldn't hear his footsteps reverberating through the floor and tried to do a full body scan, relaxing all my muscles. In the end I think I slept about one hour.
I was pretty nervous about getting lost, but by the time 95 and 128 split off both the car in front of me and behind me had road bikes with aero bars strapped to them and I felt I was in good hands. I followed a Tacoma pickup through all the crazy turns of Rout 114 all the way to the starting line and picked up my registration packet before 6:00. After registering they put more ink on me than a Hell's Angel, marking both arms, both thighs, and the back of my calf with an enormous permanent marker big enough to be seen from space.
I set up my transition area, and then took it apart to go for a short bike ride and to make sure that everything on the bike was in order. I couldn't have been gone for more than 5 minutes, but when I got back some bitch with too many freckles had her bike hanging over my stuff. "That's my stuff," I said, pointing to the setup lacking an owner. She acted all bitchy and complained that there wasn't enough space (like that was my fault), and actually wound up with the best spot at the end of the row anyway. Walking out to check the water temperature I saw a laminated piece of paper tied to a rack with ribbons. It said, "THIS SPOT IS TAKEN, OUT RIDING COURSE". That is such a good idea, only I would write, "This spot is taken, out riding course, have a good race" so bitches like Freckle-Face would really look bad if they took my spot.
I stuck a toe in the water. YIKES! It was frigging cold. I waded in to pee and see if it would be warm enough to warm up in, and decided it wasn't. About 10 feet from the shore in waste-deep water there was a line of blue and white buoys on a rope, the kind that they put on municipal beaches so little kiddies don't go wandering out into deep water. On the rope was all this algae and nasty seaweed. I turned to the couple next to me, "Do you think they're going to take this away for the race? It seems kind of dangerous."
"It doesn't look like it's been moved for a long time," the woman said.
"I don't want to touch it," I said.
"Why? It's just seaweed," the man said, grabbing a slimey handful of it.
"The monster," I said, gravely.
The woman said, "The monster's not here." She pointed to the orange course buoys, "It's out there. It has big teeth."
I love the Boston sense of humor!
Seven o'clock came and went. Everyone was standing around in the sand or knee-deep in the water waiting for something to happen, and nothing did. I was wearing 2 swim caps to keep my head warm and they were really tight and giving me a headache. At a little after 7:15 I heard the tell-tale squeak of a PA system. "Would the driver of a black Lexus, license plate 555-XXX, please move their car. It's parked on the run course." No one moved. "We'll have you towed!" Despite the threatening tone, still no one ran from the beach towards the parking lot. And that was the last that we heard from the MC for several more minutes. Then the microphone squealed again and the MC was speaking now from the other side of the beach, "There seems to be some confusion about the start times," he said (note how the following monologue contains no further reference to or explanation of start times). "I laid out the buoys last night, and, well, you see where those blue and white buoys are?" He pointed to the line of algae-covered safety buoys that were now about 5 feet from the sand and in about 4 inches of water. "The water's going to be down below those buoys in about 15 minutes, so the swim course is going to be a little bit short". Everybody cheered. And as the swim course quickly disappeared before our eyes, the MC put down his microphone for a few more minutes.
Finally he explained the order of the waves and told us that they were going to begin after playing the national anthem. A soulful version of The Star Spangled Banner started drifting sweetly from the race officials' trailer. Nobody stopped their conversations. "Be quiet!" yelled the MC into the mic and people shut up and stared at their feet, there was a dead crab belly up at my feet. I looked around and was amused to see that most people had dropped their hands to their sides or kept their arms crossed over their wastes and that very few people had their hands on their hearts and were staring majestically at the singing trailer. I wondered what this scene would have looked like 6 years ago and thought about how ridiculous such a ritual would be in Barcelona.
So in the end I didn't do nearly as well as I thought I did, so I appologize for my arrogance in my last post. Again, if you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Clearly, I don't qualify.
I was pretty nervous about getting lost, but by the time 95 and 128 split off both the car in front of me and behind me had road bikes with aero bars strapped to them and I felt I was in good hands. I followed a Tacoma pickup through all the crazy turns of Rout 114 all the way to the starting line and picked up my registration packet before 6:00. After registering they put more ink on me than a Hell's Angel, marking both arms, both thighs, and the back of my calf with an enormous permanent marker big enough to be seen from space.
I set up my transition area, and then took it apart to go for a short bike ride and to make sure that everything on the bike was in order. I couldn't have been gone for more than 5 minutes, but when I got back some bitch with too many freckles had her bike hanging over my stuff. "That's my stuff," I said, pointing to the setup lacking an owner. She acted all bitchy and complained that there wasn't enough space (like that was my fault), and actually wound up with the best spot at the end of the row anyway. Walking out to check the water temperature I saw a laminated piece of paper tied to a rack with ribbons. It said, "THIS SPOT IS TAKEN, OUT RIDING COURSE". That is such a good idea, only I would write, "This spot is taken, out riding course, have a good race" so bitches like Freckle-Face would really look bad if they took my spot.
I stuck a toe in the water. YIKES! It was frigging cold. I waded in to pee and see if it would be warm enough to warm up in, and decided it wasn't. About 10 feet from the shore in waste-deep water there was a line of blue and white buoys on a rope, the kind that they put on municipal beaches so little kiddies don't go wandering out into deep water. On the rope was all this algae and nasty seaweed. I turned to the couple next to me, "Do you think they're going to take this away for the race? It seems kind of dangerous."
"It doesn't look like it's been moved for a long time," the woman said.
"I don't want to touch it," I said.
"Why? It's just seaweed," the man said, grabbing a slimey handful of it.
"The monster," I said, gravely.
The woman said, "The monster's not here." She pointed to the orange course buoys, "It's out there. It has big teeth."
I love the Boston sense of humor!
Seven o'clock came and went. Everyone was standing around in the sand or knee-deep in the water waiting for something to happen, and nothing did. I was wearing 2 swim caps to keep my head warm and they were really tight and giving me a headache. At a little after 7:15 I heard the tell-tale squeak of a PA system. "Would the driver of a black Lexus, license plate 555-XXX, please move their car. It's parked on the run course." No one moved. "We'll have you towed!" Despite the threatening tone, still no one ran from the beach towards the parking lot. And that was the last that we heard from the MC for several more minutes. Then the microphone squealed again and the MC was speaking now from the other side of the beach, "There seems to be some confusion about the start times," he said (note how the following monologue contains no further reference to or explanation of start times). "I laid out the buoys last night, and, well, you see where those blue and white buoys are?" He pointed to the line of algae-covered safety buoys that were now about 5 feet from the sand and in about 4 inches of water. "The water's going to be down below those buoys in about 15 minutes, so the swim course is going to be a little bit short". Everybody cheered. And as the swim course quickly disappeared before our eyes, the MC put down his microphone for a few more minutes.
Finally he explained the order of the waves and told us that they were going to begin after playing the national anthem. A soulful version of The Star Spangled Banner started drifting sweetly from the race officials' trailer. Nobody stopped their conversations. "Be quiet!" yelled the MC into the mic and people shut up and stared at their feet, there was a dead crab belly up at my feet. I looked around and was amused to see that most people had dropped their hands to their sides or kept their arms crossed over their wastes and that very few people had their hands on their hearts and were staring majestically at the singing trailer. I wondered what this scene would have looked like 6 years ago and thought about how ridiculous such a ritual would be in Barcelona.
The Swim
Total: age group 8/16 (top 50%), overall 164/363 (top 45%)After having to swim around so many people last time I decided to stand near the front towards the inside this time. I picked out a few girls that looked like they were high school/college swimmers and stood behind them. In the last 2 minutes before our start the first elite man came in to the beach from his not-quite-half-mile swim and everyone started cheering for him. Over the cheers I heard the female MC say, "Wow, the course really MUST be short," as if to debunk our pride and PRs before we even started. Then we were off.
I still had to climb over more girls than I would have wanted to, but by the first turn I had pulled ahead and was stuck choking on the wake of a girl in a wetsuit with lime green trim. She was going slower than me, but I couldn't get around her. Every time I breathed I got a facefull of salt water smack in the mouth. I didn't want to breathe to the other side because I wanted to keep an eye on her, and I choked back a bit of vomit several times before I finally got past her. I noticed that my legs were aching terribly, and after checking in with my kicking I decided that it most be because of the cold. I thought about it and decided that if I had a wet suit I probably wouldn't have decided to use it anyway. I repremanded myself for being so cavalier as to not buy a wetsuit, and I berated my imaginary self who had a wetsuit for being so brash as to not use it. Rounding the second and final turn I caught up with the wave in front of me. I looked up and couldn't see hardly any purple caps. That was weird. Maybe the good swimmers were already out of the water. I was really duking it out with one girl on my right when I looked up and saw a buoy about 10 feet away on the outside (left). CRAP! I thought and swam out towards it, but when I turned I didn't see anyone over near the buoy. Then I looked back and saw the whole line of swimmers making a b-line for the beach all in the same line I'd just been swimming in. Fuck that, I'm not going to lose several places because I'm the only one who didn't cheat, I thought and swam back to the crowd. By this time the other purple cap had pulled too far ahead and I had to let her go. Swim time: 11:21.
I still had to climb over more girls than I would have wanted to, but by the first turn I had pulled ahead and was stuck choking on the wake of a girl in a wetsuit with lime green trim. She was going slower than me, but I couldn't get around her. Every time I breathed I got a facefull of salt water smack in the mouth. I didn't want to breathe to the other side because I wanted to keep an eye on her, and I choked back a bit of vomit several times before I finally got past her. I noticed that my legs were aching terribly, and after checking in with my kicking I decided that it most be because of the cold. I thought about it and decided that if I had a wet suit I probably wouldn't have decided to use it anyway. I repremanded myself for being so cavalier as to not buy a wetsuit, and I berated my imaginary self who had a wetsuit for being so brash as to not use it. Rounding the second and final turn I caught up with the wave in front of me. I looked up and couldn't see hardly any purple caps. That was weird. Maybe the good swimmers were already out of the water. I was really duking it out with one girl on my right when I looked up and saw a buoy about 10 feet away on the outside (left). CRAP! I thought and swam out towards it, but when I turned I didn't see anyone over near the buoy. Then I looked back and saw the whole line of swimmers making a b-line for the beach all in the same line I'd just been swimming in. Fuck that, I'm not going to lose several places because I'm the only one who didn't cheat, I thought and swam back to the crowd. By this time the other purple cap had pulled too far ahead and I had to let her go. Swim time: 11:21.
T1
The only thing that I remember was that I had a lot of trouble buckling my rented helmit. It turns out that transition times were not factored in separately, so I don't know how long it took, but it felt like I was fiddling with that plastic buckle for an eternity.
The Bike
Last time I went conservatively on the bike and felt like I'd finished with too much to spare, so I decided to shred myself to bits on the bike and just hang on for the run. Also, I'd told New Friend Andy that I usually bike between 20 and 22 mph. I don't know how fast I usually bike in mph, so maybe that was right, but I didn't want to look stupid, so I stomped down on my pedals as hard as I could as fast as I could just in case.
The course was shaped kind of like a lollipop with three loops around the lolli, and out and back along the pop to and from transition. When I got to the loop there were hardly any women and all of them were old, from the wave in front of me, and I was beginning to think something was wrong. The second loop more people started showing up and the elite men lapped me and I felt more like I was in my place. On the third lap the chicks had started to show up.
I did not appreciate the undulating course. In California and Spain the road is either pancake flat, or you're climbing. I'd never been on this "4 feet to 74 feet and back again 100 times before you're done" kind of course. It was hard to stay in the drops because I was shifting constantly. Also, this was the first time I'd ever biked in a place that had frost heaves. Frost heaves are when water gets into tiny cracks in the pavement and makes it swell up like the waves on a small lake on a windy day. The way most towns deal with them is to cover up the bad spots with a 6-foot-square patch of asphalt, until the patches on top of patches get so bumpy themselves that the town finally puts in to repair the road the following summer. Some of the chunks should have put in for re-paving several summers ago. The longest downhill ended in a 90 degree right turn riddled with frost heaves. Each time I came down it I got a little air and my teeth crashed together as I landed, hanging on for dear life.
Coming back into transition I was chasing after a girl in a red shirt. She was in my crosshairs and ready for extermination when ahead of me in the road I saw a giant black SUV with its rearview mirror jutting out less than 2 feet from the curb. There was a race official yelling "You gotta MOVE" (with "you gotta move or I'm going to go apeshit on you and eat your eyes out of your head" intonation) and gesticulating wildly. I had to slow down considerably to get through, and when I passed his passenger side window I yelled, "Dude!" (with "dude, what the fuck?!" intonation). I hope that jerk got what he had coming to him. If there's one thing I hate it's people who stop at lights too far to the right in the lane. I never caught up with Red Shirt, but I out-sprinted an older woman just to make myself feel better. Bike/T1 time: 43:44. I guess maybe I was exaggerating a bit when I told New Friend Andy that I go between 20 and 22 mph, because this only works out to about 18, boo.
The course was shaped kind of like a lollipop with three loops around the lolli, and out and back along the pop to and from transition. When I got to the loop there were hardly any women and all of them were old, from the wave in front of me, and I was beginning to think something was wrong. The second loop more people started showing up and the elite men lapped me and I felt more like I was in my place. On the third lap the chicks had started to show up.
I did not appreciate the undulating course. In California and Spain the road is either pancake flat, or you're climbing. I'd never been on this "4 feet to 74 feet and back again 100 times before you're done" kind of course. It was hard to stay in the drops because I was shifting constantly. Also, this was the first time I'd ever biked in a place that had frost heaves. Frost heaves are when water gets into tiny cracks in the pavement and makes it swell up like the waves on a small lake on a windy day. The way most towns deal with them is to cover up the bad spots with a 6-foot-square patch of asphalt, until the patches on top of patches get so bumpy themselves that the town finally puts in to repair the road the following summer. Some of the chunks should have put in for re-paving several summers ago. The longest downhill ended in a 90 degree right turn riddled with frost heaves. Each time I came down it I got a little air and my teeth crashed together as I landed, hanging on for dear life.
Coming back into transition I was chasing after a girl in a red shirt. She was in my crosshairs and ready for extermination when ahead of me in the road I saw a giant black SUV with its rearview mirror jutting out less than 2 feet from the curb. There was a race official yelling "You gotta MOVE" (with "you gotta move or I'm going to go apeshit on you and eat your eyes out of your head" intonation) and gesticulating wildly. I had to slow down considerably to get through, and when I passed his passenger side window I yelled, "Dude!" (with "dude, what the fuck?!" intonation). I hope that jerk got what he had coming to him. If there's one thing I hate it's people who stop at lights too far to the right in the lane. I never caught up with Red Shirt, but I out-sprinted an older woman just to make myself feel better. Bike/T1 time: 43:44. I guess maybe I was exaggerating a bit when I told New Friend Andy that I go between 20 and 22 mph, because this only works out to about 18, boo.
T2
The only problem was getting on my obnoxious headband. I think I put it on backwards and all rolled up and must have looked a fright. We'll see when the pictures come out.
The Run
I waddled out of transition on legs that felt like they were made of lead, stiff lead. Coming out of the park on to the street the word SLOW was painted on the road. "You got that right," I thought. Slowly I crawled past a topless older gentleman. "I was with you on the bike, you were flying!"
"Yeah, well I'm not flying now!" I moaned.
Salem is a pretty town and a small town and all the historic buildings, museums, and points of interest (the House of Seven Gables, the Witch House, the cemetery, the wax museum...) are all within about a mile of each other. However, we did not go through that part of Salem. We ran a loop that turned back right before getting to all the cool witch burning stuff and instead took us down Canal Street past a McDonalds, a Roto-Rooter, and the auto mile. I'm pretty sure that the whole thing was up hill. New Friend Andy later told me that he was pretty sure that it was more than 3.1 miles too. My shins really hurt the whole time, even when my legs loosened up a bit. So many girls passed me and I didn't care. I knew I was going to give up a bunch of spots on the run and I didn't give a rat's... My only goal was not to walk. Stupid running, this sucks! "Way to go!" I said to everyone I passed. I hate this, I'm going to run every day so I don't feel like this. "Lookin' good!" No, I'm never going to run again. "You too!" Goddammit, why aren't we turning? We must have gone 3 miles by now, where's the finish line? "Keep going, almost there!" This is never going to end!
We were coming back into the park and I wanted to chase after the girls passing me, but I just couldn't bring myself to suffer any more. I think I crossed the finish line making an ugly and angry face. I'd forgotten to put a cone on my head, but that probably would have been too much anyway. I was woozy for a minute and it took a few moments for me to convince myself I wasn't going to puke. T2/Run time: 32:46, NOT good.
The final stats: Total time - 1:27:52, NOT a PR
Swim: age group 4/16 (top 25%), overall 90/363 (top 25%)
Bike: age group 3/16 (top 19%), overall 135/363 (top 37%)
Run: age group 11/16 (top 69%), overall 234/363 (top 64%) - nothing to be proud of
"Yeah, well I'm not flying now!" I moaned.
Salem is a pretty town and a small town and all the historic buildings, museums, and points of interest (the House of Seven Gables, the Witch House, the cemetery, the wax museum...) are all within about a mile of each other. However, we did not go through that part of Salem. We ran a loop that turned back right before getting to all the cool witch burning stuff and instead took us down Canal Street past a McDonalds, a Roto-Rooter, and the auto mile. I'm pretty sure that the whole thing was up hill. New Friend Andy later told me that he was pretty sure that it was more than 3.1 miles too. My shins really hurt the whole time, even when my legs loosened up a bit. So many girls passed me and I didn't care. I knew I was going to give up a bunch of spots on the run and I didn't give a rat's... My only goal was not to walk. Stupid running, this sucks! "Way to go!" I said to everyone I passed. I hate this, I'm going to run every day so I don't feel like this. "Lookin' good!" No, I'm never going to run again. "You too!" Goddammit, why aren't we turning? We must have gone 3 miles by now, where's the finish line? "Keep going, almost there!" This is never going to end!
We were coming back into the park and I wanted to chase after the girls passing me, but I just couldn't bring myself to suffer any more. I think I crossed the finish line making an ugly and angry face. I'd forgotten to put a cone on my head, but that probably would have been too much anyway. I was woozy for a minute and it took a few moments for me to convince myself I wasn't going to puke. T2/Run time: 32:46, NOT good.
The final stats: Total time - 1:27:52, NOT a PR
Swim: age group 4/16 (top 25%), overall 90/363 (top 25%)
Bike: age group 3/16 (top 19%), overall 135/363 (top 37%)
Run: age group 11/16 (top 69%), overall 234/363 (top 64%) - nothing to be proud of
So in the end I didn't do nearly as well as I thought I did, so I appologize for my arrogance in my last post. Again, if you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Clearly, I don't qualify.
7 comments:
I'm scurred. You will be a formidable foe come saturday. We should all go out to eat afterwards.
Don't be so hard on yourself. You still did awesome! Way to get out there and fight.
I have to laugh at the part with the run because too many times have the same thoughts been going through my head on the run.
Enjoy your next tri next weekend. And 18mph...still rocks!
That race sounds like it was expertly planned and executed by the race organizers! I particularly liked the MC with the "Wow, that course must be really short, assholes! Don't get cocky now!"
What matters is that you didn't cave to the wetsuit-wearing masses and now you're mad, really mad, and you can kick hiney next weekend.
Especially if you see Freckle-Face.
You are really hard on yourself - both your real self and your imaginary self. 18mph rocks, 32:24 on the run, after a rockin' bike, and on a course that was probably longer than 3.1, also rocks. Top 64% - very cool! Whas wrong with the race? Nada!
You are walkin' the walk, chica, don't forget it. (ps - this does not serve you - does it?)
Effing great report!
All that on a rented bike and helmet. You did pretty damn good.
You'll be kicking some arses this weekend.
Good Luck.
Great story!
You did FINE. Everyone is correct here, you did quite well despite your initial impression. I know, the 7th comment in a blog post isn't going to push you into super/happy mode, and the stats aren't as cheery as you thought, but there was a time in your life when you didn't even know how to compete, much less know what you had to do in a triathlon. And weren't you wandering the streets of Barcelona, feeling like you'd been sucker-punched recently? I think you had a good day competing out there when you think about all the highs and lows life has to offer.
You did fine, and you're going to keep doing fine, this weekend, and beyond. And give AR a run for his money!
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