Being a newbie to the sport, and not having another triathlon to compare it to, I won't be able to give you an experienced review of the Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon. However, using my own particular talents and keen powers of observation, I will be able to paint for you, my fellow Aggressives, a picture of my amateur stumbling.
I woke up at 4am the morning of the race. It was dark. It was cold. I was cranky. It was an excited sort of cranky, though; the kind of cranky you had as a kid on Christmas morning ... you knew something awesome was waiting for you, but you also knew you were getting socks. Having already packed my bag of essentials (i.e all the gear, clothes, and snacks I would need for the race), the night before, I was ready to begin my excursion into the unknown. My bike was racked and I was driving.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the beach were the bikes...and they were beautiful. You had your high-end road bikes and your higher-end tri-bikes. You had every frame imaginable from aluminum to full carbon to titanium. Don't even get me started on the wheel sets... mmmmmmmm.... If you don’t appreciate bicycles then you simply won’t understand me but, needless to say, there was ample amounts of cycle-porn to bring any enthusiast to climax.
Um... yeah... so... onto the race.
Transition 0: Prepping:
I quickly busied myself with setting up my transition area. For the unlearned, the transition area is where you go to change, or "transition," from one stage to the next. Mainly, it's where all your stuff waits for you as you change from stage to stage. Being unlearned myself, setting up meant looking around at other people and copying what they were doing. Unfortunately, I appeared to be in the Unlearned section, because everyone around me was looking to each other for advice. I was not alone.
Stage 1: Not Drowning
I donned my wetsuit and walked down the beach to the starting line. Some races start with a run to the water but this was a start in waist deep water, so we waded in. You could feel the energy sizzling in the air as the athletes readied themselves. The laughter was replaced with controlled, pressured silence as each person waited for the signal to start. The wind blew. A seagull cried. A dog barked. The starting gun went off. I pee'd in my wetsuit.
My heat was making a mad, thrashing and splashing dash into the first stage of the race. Off we went to the first buoy and I was doing fine. I promised myself I would not try to compete with the other swimmers. I would swim my pace, not theirs. I would not... WHAT THE HELL! SOMEONE KICKED ME! UGH, THEY KICKED ME AGAIN! I swallowing salt water and was now most definitely, probably, drowning. I was warned that the swimmers often get kicked and punched during the swim stage due to the nature of the sport but I was not ready for the abuse. It set me off. My pace was gone. My technique was lost... and so help me God I will drown the next person who kicks me... OW!! DAMMIT!
I was able to regain my buoyant grace under fire and continue on with something resembling swimming. Months are training down the drain. I was at the end of my pack. People from the following heat were passing me. It could only be more embarrassing if they were wearing Hello Kitty floaties while doing it. I suck at this point and it hasn't even been 10 minutes. I rounded the second buoy and swam straight for the shore. I hit the beach, started to pull off my wetsuit, and ran into the first transition.
Swim Stage:
Distance = .34 mile / Pace = sllooowwww / Time = 12:40 / Rank = 198 of 311
Transition 1: Wetsuit Challenged
I'll be short and to the point: Sit down to take your wetsuit off. At least do this if it's your first time. I tried to be cool like everyone else and rip off my suit with the speed and grace of a seasoned veteran but all I managed to do was almost fall forward and smash my head on the pavement. Third of the race done and I’m already a danger to myself. What joys will the rest of the day bring? Once the wetsuit came off, getting into bike mode was quick and easy. Time to ride like the wind!
Stage 2: Chasing Bunnies
Moving from swimming to cycling was a first for me. I never did any brick training in preparation for the race because I apparently know better than all those “triathletes” who “race” “often.” What do they know? Turns out, lots. Now I know why it’s important. I was still breathing heavy when I hit the pedals and I felt sluggish on the bike. My legs were numb and it took 3 miles to feel quasi-normal again. During the first 3 miles I was passed by men and women of all ages who clearly believe in brick training. I was OK with this, until the $10000 Club passed me. I can take being passed by the Oldies but Goodies (AARP members). I can stomach being chicked (passed by women). I detest being passed by cyclists who own bicycles that cost $10000 or more. It’s an ego thing (and a jealousy thing... their bikes are prettier). It was time to play a serious game of Catch the Bunny.
If anyone was listening to me at this point in the race they would have thought me insane. I kept chanting “Catch the bunny” over and over again... for the remaining 12 miles... out loud... and cackled every time I caught one. Occasionally there was an F-bomb thrown in, “F***ing BUNNY,” as some particularly petulant bunny passed me. On the up side, I was able to catch several in the $10000 Club by the end of the cycling stage. On the down side, they still have $10000 bicycles; but I have my pride... and that’s still not enough to get me a new $10000 bicycle. Effing bunny.
Cycling Stage:
Distance = 15 miles / Pace = 21.1mph / Time = 41:07 / Rank = 43 of 311
Transition 2: Vibram Challenged
Bike on rack. Check. Helmet off. Check. Sitting down. Check. Bike shoes off. Check. Vibrams on.... Vibrams on... Vibr... dammit... Vibra... damMIT... frickin‘ toes... where are my frickin‘ toes? It took me two minutes to put on my shoes. Two minutes. Put your shoes on. See? You’re done. Me? Two minutes. I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. Screw it. We’re running.
Stage 3: Getting Chicked AARP-Style
Moving from swimming to cycling was odd. Going from cycling to running was an out of body experience. Unlike exiting the swimming stage, I was not out of breath going into the run. My lungs were open. My head was clear. My feet were being controlled by somebody else. I knew they were moving but I didn’t feel anything. It felt like I was in someone else’s mind watching them run from inside their head. Either I have finally lost my mind or I’m having a stroke. If it’s the latter, I better finish the race first. A mile and a half in I regained feeling. Great! Not a stroke; just going crazy. With my feet back under my command I was finally able to pick up pace and it felt surprisingly comfortable. I passed some runners who started the stage before me. I was strong. I was confident. One mile to go! (“Hoo Hoo!”) What’s that sound? (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s getting louder and louder. (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s coming from behind me! I looked over my shoulder and saw a woman in her sixties barreling down on me. That “Hoo Hoo” was her rhythmic breathing as she crushed racer after racer, including me. Try as I might I could not catch this energetic elder, this swift senior, as she ran ahead, crushing others along the way. There was no discounting that senior citizen... discount... senior citizen... discount... the jokes only get worse.
Keeping my own pace I rounded the final bend and had the finish line in my sights. I signed up for this race 6 months ago and it was now coming to the end. I picked up my pace and sprinted the final 50 feet across the finish line. The MC announced my name as I completed the race. It felt good. I felt good.
Running Stage:
Distance = 5k / Pace = 6:59 / Time = 20:56 / Rank = 47 of 311
Conclusion
This race was a great way to start my triathlete journey. I don’t know how other triathlons will be but this was a blast. We swam in an ocean that was calm and comfortable. We rode and ran over a very flat, fast course. It was well organized, well staffed, and the post-race was well fed. The volunteers were integral in keeping any confusion down to a minimum and they made it a great race and a great day. I will definitely do this race again in 2012. Next year I will have learned from my mistakes. Next year I will be faster and stronger. Next year I will do brick training and master swim lessons and longer scheduled rides. Next year... is really far away and all that sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll worry about it next year.
Final Time = 1:19:40
Final Place = 76 of 311
I woke up at 4am the morning of the race. It was dark. It was cold. I was cranky. It was an excited sort of cranky, though; the kind of cranky you had as a kid on Christmas morning ... you knew something awesome was waiting for you, but you also knew you were getting socks. Having already packed my bag of essentials (i.e all the gear, clothes, and snacks I would need for the race), the night before, I was ready to begin my excursion into the unknown. My bike was racked and I was driving.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the beach were the bikes...and they were beautiful. You had your high-end road bikes and your higher-end tri-bikes. You had every frame imaginable from aluminum to full carbon to titanium. Don't even get me started on the wheel sets... mmmmmmmm.... If you don’t appreciate bicycles then you simply won’t understand me but, needless to say, there was ample amounts of cycle-porn to bring any enthusiast to climax.
Um... yeah... so... onto the race.
Transition 0: Prepping:
I quickly busied myself with setting up my transition area. For the unlearned, the transition area is where you go to change, or "transition," from one stage to the next. Mainly, it's where all your stuff waits for you as you change from stage to stage. Being unlearned myself, setting up meant looking around at other people and copying what they were doing. Unfortunately, I appeared to be in the Unlearned section, because everyone around me was looking to each other for advice. I was not alone.
Stage 1: Not Drowning
I donned my wetsuit and walked down the beach to the starting line. Some races start with a run to the water but this was a start in waist deep water, so we waded in. You could feel the energy sizzling in the air as the athletes readied themselves. The laughter was replaced with controlled, pressured silence as each person waited for the signal to start. The wind blew. A seagull cried. A dog barked. The starting gun went off. I pee'd in my wetsuit.
My heat was making a mad, thrashing and splashing dash into the first stage of the race. Off we went to the first buoy and I was doing fine. I promised myself I would not try to compete with the other swimmers. I would swim my pace, not theirs. I would not... WHAT THE HELL! SOMEONE KICKED ME! UGH, THEY KICKED ME AGAIN! I swallowing salt water and was now most definitely, probably, drowning. I was warned that the swimmers often get kicked and punched during the swim stage due to the nature of the sport but I was not ready for the abuse. It set me off. My pace was gone. My technique was lost... and so help me God I will drown the next person who kicks me... OW!! DAMMIT!
I was able to regain my buoyant grace under fire and continue on with something resembling swimming. Months are training down the drain. I was at the end of my pack. People from the following heat were passing me. It could only be more embarrassing if they were wearing Hello Kitty floaties while doing it. I suck at this point and it hasn't even been 10 minutes. I rounded the second buoy and swam straight for the shore. I hit the beach, started to pull off my wetsuit, and ran into the first transition.
Swim Stage:
Distance = .34 mile / Pace = sllooowwww / Time = 12:40 / Rank = 198 of 311
Transition 1: Wetsuit Challenged
I'll be short and to the point: Sit down to take your wetsuit off. At least do this if it's your first time. I tried to be cool like everyone else and rip off my suit with the speed and grace of a seasoned veteran but all I managed to do was almost fall forward and smash my head on the pavement. Third of the race done and I’m already a danger to myself. What joys will the rest of the day bring? Once the wetsuit came off, getting into bike mode was quick and easy. Time to ride like the wind!
Stage 2: Chasing Bunnies
Moving from swimming to cycling was a first for me. I never did any brick training in preparation for the race because I apparently know better than all those “triathletes” who “race” “often.” What do they know? Turns out, lots. Now I know why it’s important. I was still breathing heavy when I hit the pedals and I felt sluggish on the bike. My legs were numb and it took 3 miles to feel quasi-normal again. During the first 3 miles I was passed by men and women of all ages who clearly believe in brick training. I was OK with this, until the $10000 Club passed me. I can take being passed by the Oldies but Goodies (AARP members). I can stomach being chicked (passed by women). I detest being passed by cyclists who own bicycles that cost $10000 or more. It’s an ego thing (and a jealousy thing... their bikes are prettier). It was time to play a serious game of Catch the Bunny.
If anyone was listening to me at this point in the race they would have thought me insane. I kept chanting “Catch the bunny” over and over again... for the remaining 12 miles... out loud... and cackled every time I caught one. Occasionally there was an F-bomb thrown in, “F***ing BUNNY,” as some particularly petulant bunny passed me. On the up side, I was able to catch several in the $10000 Club by the end of the cycling stage. On the down side, they still have $10000 bicycles; but I have my pride... and that’s still not enough to get me a new $10000 bicycle. Effing bunny.
Cycling Stage:
Distance = 15 miles / Pace = 21.1mph / Time = 41:07 / Rank = 43 of 311
Transition 2: Vibram Challenged
Bike on rack. Check. Helmet off. Check. Sitting down. Check. Bike shoes off. Check. Vibrams on.... Vibrams on... Vibr... dammit... Vibra... damMIT... frickin‘ toes... where are my frickin‘ toes? It took me two minutes to put on my shoes. Two minutes. Put your shoes on. See? You’re done. Me? Two minutes. I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. Screw it. We’re running.
Stage 3: Getting Chicked AARP-Style
Moving from swimming to cycling was odd. Going from cycling to running was an out of body experience. Unlike exiting the swimming stage, I was not out of breath going into the run. My lungs were open. My head was clear. My feet were being controlled by somebody else. I knew they were moving but I didn’t feel anything. It felt like I was in someone else’s mind watching them run from inside their head. Either I have finally lost my mind or I’m having a stroke. If it’s the latter, I better finish the race first. A mile and a half in I regained feeling. Great! Not a stroke; just going crazy. With my feet back under my command I was finally able to pick up pace and it felt surprisingly comfortable. I passed some runners who started the stage before me. I was strong. I was confident. One mile to go! (“Hoo Hoo!”) What’s that sound? (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s getting louder and louder. (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s coming from behind me! I looked over my shoulder and saw a woman in her sixties barreling down on me. That “Hoo Hoo” was her rhythmic breathing as she crushed racer after racer, including me. Try as I might I could not catch this energetic elder, this swift senior, as she ran ahead, crushing others along the way. There was no discounting that senior citizen... discount... senior citizen... discount... the jokes only get worse.
Keeping my own pace I rounded the final bend and had the finish line in my sights. I signed up for this race 6 months ago and it was now coming to the end. I picked up my pace and sprinted the final 50 feet across the finish line. The MC announced my name as I completed the race. It felt good. I felt good.
Running Stage:
Distance = 5k / Pace = 6:59 / Time = 20:56 / Rank = 47 of 311
Conclusion
This race was a great way to start my triathlete journey. I don’t know how other triathlons will be but this was a blast. We swam in an ocean that was calm and comfortable. We rode and ran over a very flat, fast course. It was well organized, well staffed, and the post-race was well fed. The volunteers were integral in keeping any confusion down to a minimum and they made it a great race and a great day. I will definitely do this race again in 2012. Next year I will have learned from my mistakes. Next year I will be faster and stronger. Next year I will do brick training and master swim lessons and longer scheduled rides. Next year... is really far away and all that sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll worry about it next year.
Final Time = 1:19:40
Final Place = 76 of 311
Incredibly entertaining!!!! I ran that race for the first time too this year ( at age 52) but didn't do nearly as well as you! However, I could totally relate and have already set a goal of shaving 7 minutes off this years time (1:56.21). Thanks for the many laughs!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Robo. Love that you laughed. It's what I'm aiming for.. either laugh with me or at me, as long as your laughing :) Great job on your time and you will crush it next year! Stay Aggressive. Good luck with your future races.
ReplyDeleteJust saw this, great read. As a fellow first-timer at Wallis Sands, I can relate. My blog entry about the race is here: http://lakesregionspirit.com/lrsmag/features/triing-for-the-first-time/
ReplyDeleteGreat write-up!! Laughed out loud at the "who clearly believe it brick training" comment! It's a brutal realization! Thanks for sharing our pictures as well!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the photos! Huge props for Nuvision Action Image for taking great pics throughout the race. You guys captured everything perfectly!
ReplyDelete