Iron Horse Triathlon

Me if I were a horse riding a bike. 

          I arrive and start going through my check list of hope I brought that items. Bike...check. Helmet...check. Stamina of someone who actually trained...forgot to pack that months ago. But I figure I've done sprint triathlons in the past, so I could survive this one. I see my usual heroes with the space helmets and cool covered back wheel bikes and knew I was in the right place. As I go to each booth to collect all my race items, I could have really used a kickstand. But as anyone with a road bike knows, kickstands are for losers even though they are really really convenient. Instead, I had to rest my bike on my hip or on a post or on a child's head while getting overwhelmed by stuff early that morning. When I am done prepping my transition area, I start checking out the route. Along the way, I kept hearing everyone complain about the timing chip ankle band having to be on your right ankle. It was such an uproar because there is no way in hell they were going to have that little chip get in the way of their gears. When I looked down at mine, I noticed the chip stuck out just as far as my shoe, so I still don't know what the big fuss was about. 

          Up until this point, I have only participated in delayed start pool swim triathlons, so open water was a little new to me. As every one is warming up, I see Khanh, one of my Danos coworkers and one hell of an athlete. Let me preface this by saying that I have a shaved head, so no need for a swim cap right? Of course I didn't notice everyone surrounding me had one on. I even saw a bald guy putting one on and thought well that's odd, never thinking "look dummy, you need one too". So when Khanh saw me, she asked where my swim cap was because they wouldn't let me swim without it. Of course by this time, they are about to fire up the national anthem and here I am running 75 yards back to the transition station where I frantically wrestle with the plastic wrapper around the swim cap I had to have. By the time I get back, out of breath, my age group is the first wave up. 

         Two minutes until we take off on our torturous journey, everyone jumps in with unbridled enthusiasm anticipating the start. For that entire 2 minutes, we find ourselves stuck treading water until the horn goes off. So now I know to stay my ass on the shore and only jump in when it gets closer to go time. 

         Once our wave starts, I of course kick ass for about the first 50 yards. I mean Michael Phelps would have been a close second at that point. Then it all falls apart with 350 yards to go. I tried at least 4 different stroke combinations throughout that attempt at swimming, each one slower than the last. Then I get a little taste of one of the finer things in life, Lake Poullard. It had a rich body with musky undertones that finished with a fishy aftertaste. It wasn't enough to choke me out, but just enough to make the threat of drowning real. As we near the shore, it seems like I was lost at sea for days. 

        The next part of the race, I've been training for my entire life...putting on shoes. Nailed it. Then it was bike city after that. I noticed a guy with a flat tire about 1 mile into the bike portion. I couldn't help but think "please don't let me be that guy, please don't let me be the guy" the whole route. You might be thinking, why didn't I stop to help that guy out? Valid question. But if you would have seen the spaceship of a bike he was riding, I would have just been there to offer moral support, which I did, briefly, as I passed him by. I've been in that situation once before and had to walk my bike about 4 miles back to the finish then run 3 miles. The only thing that helps at that point is silence, instead of 100 people asking if you need help. I appreciate the courtesy, but I highly doubt anyone was going to ruin setting their PR to help me, the guy with the Wal-Mart road bike on the side of the road. They had bigger fish to fry and I can respect that. 

       As I cruise along, I am pushed along by the wind of passing competitors. That night I heard "On your left!" in my sleep. The calves of riders passing me were bigger than my thighs. To put it in perspective, the top average speed that day was around 25 mph and I was coming in hot at an astounding 16 mph. The peddling was not the painful part. The prostate exam my seat gave me the whole ride was what did me in. Safe to say I'll be purchasing a beach cruiser seat in the near future.

      As I finally finish the 14 mile bike ride, I jump into my favorite part of the triathlon. See triathlons are geared toward bikers. You do well on the bike, you do well overall. But that didn't stop me from yelling "on your left!" as I consistently passed up a good bit of the bikers who are not runners like I am. Finished with a 7:23 pace for 2 miles, which wasn't nearly enough distance to make up any major time I lost on the bike part. 

       As the end of the race approached, I had one of the most honorable finishes a man can ask for. I pushed as hard as I could to barely pass up a girl right at the finish line to rank 166 out of 273 competing (https://register.cajuntiming.com/results/default.aspx?event=33676&r=10844). 

     The race wasn't my strongest, but opened me up to a longer open water type race I've been meaning to "tri". As I re-hydrate and walk to the food, I can't help but overhear the passionate re-caps of everyone's different struggles throughout the race. Although most of them were solid struggles, I did overhear one guy say this to the girl he was with: "You know what happened with the swim part? I have tinted lenses and with the limited visibility it took me off my game". No my friend. You sir struggled because you suck at swimming. I admitted that to myself and so should you. Although I did find the water to be a little thicker than I am used to...and the air temp wasn't ideal, and the other people were extra fast so there was no way to keep up. 

      Door prizes were next and let's just say these aren't your average door prizes. They gave away a Go Pro Hero, Yeti ice chest, a sick Garmin watch, Costa Del Mars, and more fancy items I can't remember. I was lucky enough to hear #169 called for one of the prizes. My prize? A Yeti cup that I already have. I can't be disappointed about it. That cup is going to turn into a nice $30 Academy gift card. Plus they gave us a swag bag loaded with quality stuff. 

      It was a great race even with the stormy conditions. One of the more well thought out sprint triathlons I've been to. To sum it all up, I may have found myself struggling throughout the race, but to see a woman in her 60s that seems to have weight issues sprint it out at the end barely crossing the finish line before giving up gives me all the motivation I need to knock it out of the park next year. 

So until then Iron Horse, you were a hell of a ride!