I've been a runner for 2.5 years - ever since it helped me melt away 60 pounds. I did my first 5k in 2007 after a year of urging from my trainer. I ran a miraculous 9:20 my first time out - miraculous because I have not one athletic bone in my body. From that point, I was hooked. I entered more races (10ks, 9-milers, a half-marathon, and a marathon on the horizon) ; hired a running coach; injured and re-injured myself in pursuit of faster speeds. I p.r.'d this year at 8:38 at the Placentia 5k.
Sometime around mid-June this year, I developed yet another running injury from yet another bout of overtraining (too many miles and too much speedwork too soon). I was frustrated and felt I was burning out on running. During my first year of "racing", I had toyed with the notion of completing a triathlon but the whole swimming thing prevented any further serious thought. But the idea lay dormant in the back of my head. I had read Jayne Williams' "Slow Fat Triathlete" (outstanding book for anyone even remotely considering a tri) earlier this year and was inspired - so when that burn-out hit in June, the solution was suddenly crystal clear. Train for a tri. So what if I couldn't swim! I can run and bike and I'm fit - minor issue!
I checked out the local tris and the whole fast, easy course/easy swim, great for first-timers race description of the Long Beach Tri had me running to my trainer with training questions and blabbering to all my friends that I would be training for a tri. I committed my self before I even pushed the "Register" button on the LB Tri's website.
So I trained hard for a few months; my trainer Rick reveled in the new tortures he was doling out (hill repeats, very unlady-like clean and jerks and snatches just to name a couple). I took swim lessons at the Y and generally got the use intended of our swimming pool. In the process, I re-discovered my fondness for biking; discovered the serenity of swimming and AGAIN re-injured my foot during speedwork.
The week before a tri is a rollercoaster ride of emotions and thoughts. Not a good time to go get your head checked - you'll be committed. My thoughts ran from "What the hell have I gotten myself into?!?" to rampant fears of failure to intense feelings of studliness. There's a point where you just want to get it over with and I wonder of this is what expectant moms in their 9 month feel like. I even had butterflies in my stomach during a fairly tough, but routine training session - stupid! But I'm guessing those butterflies contributed to the 2-lb weight loss the week of the tri. Thank you, butterflies!
The excitement came to a head on the day of the expo where you pick up your bib, timing chip and tri acoutrement. There were a lot of other excited, new triathletes and the atmosphere was very positive and electric. So much so that I told my husband Gary that night that I believed an Ironman would be possible in 5 years; he just laughed and joked about how old I'd be by then (Dara Torres, anyone?). I'm sure the poor guy just wants his wife back - away from the gym, the running and bike trails. I'm sure he'd like to kiss a cheek not slathered in salt and sweat. I'm sure he'd love to stop waking up at 4am on race days. He'll have wait until after Kona 2013.
People are overwhelmingly positive and amazed when you tell them you're going to do a tri. Even total strangers - granted these were the servers at Joe's Crab Shack who wanted good tips and customers well into their 3rd margaritas. But I got lots of good wishes from a lot of people and it really boosted those erratic spirits of mine.
My tri goal had basically come down to this - finish. And then when JLo shot off her mouth with her ignorant Michael Phelps comment, she made it personal. I paid attention to her finishing time and vowed to beat it. I had projected a 1:50 finishing time (all the while forgetting to factor in transition times); 30+ minutes in the swim; 38-40 in the bike; and 25-30 in the run. Not spectacular considering last year's finishing times, but not a total embarrassment (for a non-elite).
It's true what you read in many tri blogs, books, personal accounts; you don't sleep the night before a tri. Heck, I don't sleep the night before a5k so I knew what I was in for on this particular Saturday night. It might have helped if I hadn't watched my favorite movie, "Silence of the Lambs" for the trillionth time! Especially since I spent the week listening only to the WAVE and generally eschewing political commentary on radio and tv.
I got up at 3:15 am on tri day and helped myself to a peanut butter whole wheat muffin and coffee. I had packed the night before but made some last minute changes during my sleepless night. The bike was already loaded; all my supplements, Cytomax and Endurox packed. I had enough time to download a couple inspirational songs off iTunes - "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" and "Some Like it Hot" - yes, I know. I'm a fruitcake. During the pre-dawn drive to Long Beach I drowned myself in those songs as well as "Bicylce Race" and "Fat-Bottomed Girls"; "Easy" by the Commodores; and a couple of others by Kid Rock and the "September/The Joker" re-mix from the "Babel" soundrtack.
Gary and I got their early enough for me to secure an excellent end-spot bike rack position. Although I knew how to set up my transition area, I still experimented with some changes. I got my body marked by a really nice volunteer who told me that I didn't look my age (they mark your calf with your age and arms with your race number). He may have just been trying to be nice. When I saw that some other athletes were getting into their wetsuits, I slathered myself in Pam and slipped into my suit. I had enough time, but no appetite for a couple bites of a pb sandwich.
The race organizers had yet to put out the course markers for the swim, but Gary and I walked down to the approximate start area. Some athletes were warming up with runs, swims and other exercises that can make you feel like an idiot for not doing them. The Harbor Patrol then came out with the course buoys and we watched as they placed the buoys at what seemed miles apart. After a few moments with "Dear God" and "There's no way"s going through my head (based on my all too brief and comical open water practices), I settled down into a "You've done the work. You're ready. Focus and do the best you can." Then I decided to take a warm-up lap 25 yards to the first buoy and back to get my face used to the murky water and decide what stroke I would use. I couldn't keep my face in the water to save my life and my lungs felt contricted - the water wasn't that cold; was it the wetsuit? Amazingly, this didn't panic me (my mental toughness is admittedly shaky at best). I maintained a "do the best you can" attitude. What did feel good, though, was the swim to the buoy - unlike previous open water swims, this one was calmer and flatter so it didn't take an eternity to finish.
I was allotted the 3rd wave start - 30-44 year old females. Elites and I think the younger female age group went first and second. When the airhorn blew for my wave, I didn't panic or get anxious like I feared I would. I hung back and swum to the outside to avoid the crowds around the buoy. Gary says that I went out fast and I remember feeling that I had rounded that first buoy pretty darn well. But I didn't feel fast; just focused.
After the first buoy, the whole face in the water thing was still not working. I tried the backstroke (with which I'm way more comfortable and faster) and amazingly it worked! My last open water backstroke with a wetsuit proved inefficient as my feet kept coming out of the water and gallons of salt water found its way into my goggles, nose and mouth. But this time, the backstroke was working for me.
Until I swam off-course after the 2nd bouy. A very reasonable open water issue especially if you haven't practiced swimming a straight line in open water! Although I was making an effort at sighting the shoreline, I realized I had swum off-course when the water around me got silent. No kicking, flailing limbs; just the soothing sounds of lapping ocean water and a pretty blue sky. Uh-oh! I stopped and took a peek. OMG! I was inside the course markers headed for shore. A lifeguard was within sighting distance, but I guess he was amusing himself with my rookie antics because he could have said something but didn't. Now swimming off-course is the sort of thing that would panic me; cause me to lose confidence and beat myself up. Instead I just laughed and hightailed it to the swim lane and resumed my backstroke. Only to do it again a little later. Yes, I pulled that little stunt off twice. And yes, I approached the second faux pas with a sense of humor and a quick swim to the swim lane. I hope the spectators enjoyed that little show I put on.
During your tri research, you hear lots of horror stories about swimming in schools of humans - bloodied noses, displaced goggles, being mowed down by other swimmers, human buoys, water jousting. Sure, there was a some accidental body part contact, but for the most part, everyone was polite and had a great sense of humor about the situation. It wasn't until we rounded the last buoy to shore when things got serious. This is when the guys from wave 4 went into mow-down mode. It was on! Again that unusual grace in the face of adversity kicked in and I just focused on getting to shore. Quickly.
1/2 mile swim time: 22:31:6. I decided not to use my heart rate monitors for the swim, so I didn't find out my time until 24 hours after the race. My time was better than I could have dreamed of (considering that I added yardage with my off-course ventures)! During the race, I saw a digital race timer that was at 30 minutes at one point in the transition area, so I knew I hadn't sucked as bad as I was expecting - but that's the only info I had going into T1 (transition 1 - swim to bike). An additional upside - no helicopter sea rescue required during my swim!
Here's what I can say about T1 - if there was an elite category for long T1 times; I would have placed very high. All tri primers advise on practing the T1 in training; you have that pesky wetsuit to get out of; sand to wash off your feet; a possible clothing change; bike negotiations; hydration and energy supplementation - advice which I ignored thinking (very foolishly), "how hard can this be?"
Allow me to tell you how a decent T1 time of 2 minutes turns into almost 11 minutes!. No, I was not blow drying my hair, giving myself a pedicure, or enjoying a picnic! First, there was the shock of some idiot who obviously showed up late to the race, parking her stuff outside the bike rack - my enviable, roomy spot was obliterated by this jerk! I'm sure this is illegal in USAT-sanctioned tris. If I hadn't been such a believer in karma, her crap would have been splattered all about the transition area. Then there's that wetsuit removal part gets a little challenging at the ankles and heels. I had also foolishly worn my bathing suit bottoms (I usually have to pee after a swim; so I envisioned a quick pit stop in the porta-john to relieve myself and change. For the first time in all my swimming; I didn't have to use the john!) instead of my biking/running shorts which necessitated one of those wardrobe changes only a surfer can negotiate without showing all his wares. Add time for some fumbling with my bike gloves that I had left inside out on my last ride and strapping on the heart rate monitor. And those oh-so-precious minutes getting sticky while trying to suck down a GU Roctane. Tic-toc, tic-toc.
My next adventure, you ask, after T1? Oh, yes, this is fun - getting stuck beind this totally geared-out tri chic who couldn't clip her shoes into her stinking pedals in the mount line that is situated in a curvy area at the base of a hill!!!! Now the small mount line area and hill didn't fluster me although it was small and congested enough that it would have been unwise and unsafe for me to try to go around this poser. I'm sorry, but if your tri gear costs more than a mortgage payment, you'd better know how to clip your ridiculous shoes into those ridiculous pedals!
Starting the ride with a hill wasn't an issue. I think I flew after that, but outside of my heart rate monitor that started screaming wildly as I hit 172 all too soon into the bike, I had no idea of my pace. The ridiculously elevated heart rate was a concern. The only time I hit 170s on the bike is when I sprint. I tried to slow down intermittently to slow down my heart rate, but it wouldn't come down. Which sucked because the bike course was fast, scenic with just a couple hills. Easy even on my mountain bike. Based on my first split, I was poised to come in at 38-39. But the heart rate continued to climb; my breathing grew obnoxiously loud and I was practically wheezing. This had never happened before in my rides or bricks! I started re-thinking that Ironman.
There was a lot of illegal (USAT rules) stuff taking place on the ride - drafting, blocking, the use of iPods. But that's what makes this race a great one for tri-virgins. You can focus on other things rather than all those rules that can earn you a DQ or a time penalty.
11 mile bike time: 44:47:1. Five minutes slower than I aimed for. I might have eaten up some time at the dismount line (same precarious spot as the mount line) being safe and conservative.
T2 (transition 2 bike to run) went a lot faster but was still 2 minutes slower than average - almost 5 minutes. I had issues re-racking my bike thanks to my rude neighbor, so I killed time there. I walked in the transition area, when I think I could have run - but I thought running in the transition area was illegal although I saw other people doing it. Other than that, I just had a helmet and gloves to get off. I was already in my running shoes at the bike. But I may have been moving slower at this point in an attempt to get my heart rate down. Didn't work.
My heart rate was still high when I headed out for the run. My goal had been to p.r. in the run - Rick's "25" from the Placentia 5k was going through my head. In my mind, this was totally achievable. I had improved my .25 mile hill times; my 400 meter times and was running a 7:45 during one of my bricks that had felt more like a 10:30. I could totally do this - until the heart rate became an issue. I realized at the start that this run would require 1 minute walk breaks a la Jeff Galloway.
Lots of people warn about "finding your legs" after the bike. This was not an issue for me. Finding my lungs and pacing were. I chose to leave my Garmin run watch with all the bells and whistles at home - all those horror stories about stuff getting stolen in the transition area. When I set my p.r. in April I hadn't worn my Garmin (it didn't get charged properly the night before) -
I thought I'd been able to p.r. because I hadn't had that watch to hyperfocus on mileage and pacing. So I thought I might have that same luck with my Polar which displays heart rate, calories, training zones and a few other goodies. Plus, the run course was billed as a flat, fast course. I love it when race organizers call a course fast - fast for who? Usain Bolt?
Because there was no mile marker at mile 1; I couldn't even guesstimate my pacing. My pace felt relaxed (despite the elevated heart rate) - like it had on my last 7:45 run. I figured I must being running somewhere near that 7:45 and that's why my heart rate was hitting the 180s and I was struggling for oxygen. So I kept on with the 4 minutes running/1 minute walking plan. Before I knew it, I saw the 2 mile (and only) marker. I was excited; I was one mile from completing my first tri! I ran/walked some more and then I could see the finish line! I stopped for a short walk break behind this blue building away from the crowd's line of sight - I wanted enough left for a sprint to the finish. One of my goals had been to finish pretty - I hate that pathetic collection of race photos of me grimacing, frowning, running with bad form! Embarrassing.
But that walk break was all I needed, because when I started to run again - I FLEW! The afterburners kicked in and for about .20 of a mile, I was a Kenyan. I was Usain Bolt. Air Vic. All of a sudden my lungs didn't hurt and I couldn't hear myself breathing. My feet felt light and fast and my running posture felt correct. Not a single thing was wrong.
Now I have to admit I pulled what I consider a douchebag stunt - non-elites passing other runners at the finish - especially when you're not remotely in contention for a top 3 age group finish or even top 10 for that matter. This guy about my age had passed me at blue building and I wasn't pacing him during the race so his passing me didn't matter to me. But once those afterburners kicked in, I flew past him to the finish. I couldn't help it. When your body pulls off a miracle like that, you go with it. Now if only that afterburner would work for all 3.1 miles of a race next time!
3 mile run time: 30:12:5. Hardly the stuff of an 8 minute mile. Only my half-marathon time this year was slower but that's because I was sick and lacking the training I needed. I made a vow to do as my gym owner John had been urging over the last two weeks - go get a referral to a cardiologist for that elevated heart rate.
Gary said he'd never seen me run so fast. Susan, my sister, was closest to the chute so I gave her a big fat hug and almost started crying. Her first comments to me were that I had beat JLo. Yes! I had flown by the race clock but I had seen a 1:58/1:59 time - I knew I'd have time deducted for the wave start so I wasn't worried. I felt great after the race. I had so much energy and nothing on me was sore or achy (except for that pesky heel problem). I could feel I had a lot left in the tank so that's when it first occurred to me that maybe my bike and run times were slower than I would have liked. But in the true spirit of a new triathlete, I thrilled that I finished and considered the race a huge adventure and learning experience.
Total tri time: 1:53. Good first effort. And now I know where I need to improve. Imagine my time if I could have kept T1&2 fast!
I saw a remark on a tri blog a week before my tri. It compared your first tri to your first time having sex - all nerves at first and then the experience is over much too quickly. Great analogy. There's no time to let negative thoughts crowd your head; you just keep moving forward, enjoying the scenery and experience along the way and suddenly you find yourself at the finish.
The Sunday before my tri, I had gone to watch the Pacific Coast Tri in Crystal Cove. It's billed as a great beginner's tri. Right. Rougher swim and lots of hills on the bike and run. But the finish line announcer said something that stuck with me. "When these people woke up this morning, they weren't triathletes. Now they are." The training and racing are part of a re-birth process. You are someone different when you finish and that feeling is sinking in more and more.
On the other hand, I overheard this older female newbie say that a triathlon is all about pain. I'll give her that based on the challenging Pac Coast course. But that comment stuck for a little bit, yet it didn't make sense. I have good endurance - a 2-2.5 hour workout doesn't bother me in the least. You work hard and it gets done. End of story. I didn't understand the pain of which she spoke - even with my astonishing heart rate and embarrassing wheezing. I wouldn't have even put those in the "discomfort" category; it was more like annoyance and inconvenience. To me there is no pain when you rise to a challenge; push yourself and do things that make you a better or healthier person.
The tri season is nearly over but I'm planning on doing two more sprint tris within the next month - Steamboat Express in San Dimas and the U.S. Women's Tri Series Super Sprint in Mission Bay. I love and enjoy the sport and plan on an eventual Olympic and Half-Ironman. That Ironman in 2013 will take work, but I'm up for it!
