Queen City Triathlon

Saturday was the Queen City Triathlon. The venue was changed for 2010 so my course record at the previous venue wasn’t up for grabs, but I did want to win again.

People remembered me from last year, asking if I “planned to win this thing again.” It is hard to understand that I am not the course record machine I was last year. I can however, do the best with what I have to work with. This is, after all, triathlon and triathlons are supposed to be fun. Triathlon is not easy and if it were they would call it, well, “tri- this is so easy I am not even sweating -athlon”…or “basketball.” Don’t even try to argue.

The 1000 yard pool swim is my least favorite distance of any swim, my heart is with open water for sure, but then again any triathlon is fun to me. I think the reason I don’t care for the 1000 yd pool swim is two-sided, the first, it is boring; up, down, up, down, up, down. The other side is the uncomfortable feeling in my lungs and chest when sucking in oxygen mixed with chlorinated water, it burns…but it is still fun, I digress.

I had a decent 1000, never pushing too hard. I hit the first wall, with a splash heavy flip turn, counting myself close to last in the heat of 10 racers. My lane partner and other race favorite, Evan, had gapped me 3 body lengths by starting his swim ridiculously fast. The markings in the pool were different than my home markings so I missed the wall a handful of times flipping to far from the contact points. My 65 year old friend Norm called me out on in after the race, thanks Norm.

The gap to Evan stuck while I continued to swim easily, making up time on the others in the heat. I lost track of my laps around 4, the hardest thing to do in the pool is count laps, “was I on 4 or will it be 4 at the wall?” I gave up counting and just swam, enjoying the race. I ditched a flip turn to ask my lap counter, “what lap is that?” He muttered, either “14” or “16.” Eh works for me, I kept swimming. Evan had about a lap-length gap after my inquisition to the lap counter.

I was surprised to see a guy exit the pool before Evan and me. “Who is that?” I had been keeping my eyes on the next lane over, my friend, and fellow P3 rider, Livoni was a fast swimmer. I expected him to lead the swim. The man I saw exit first was not Livoni. Evan exited next, followed by me about 25 seconds later, Livoni followed me to T1 a short while later.

When I enter T1 I use peripheral vision to find motion and judge placing. I knew the motion in the far left was the fast swimmer man. I racked next to Evan and he was still there, I could tell from his progress I was making up time in the transition. Evan exited in first; I skimmed off most of the lead and left right on his heels. Fast swimmer man evaporated from the lead while in T1, transitions are important, fact. Evan had a miscalculation at the mount line, I swerved the P3 around him and hopped aboard 10 feet past the mount line with the race lead, perfect.

Side-by-side with Evan in Transition One

Evan and I battled wicked cross winds at the front of the race, the gusts would toss my P3 around the lane, I held on like I was in a bike rodeo, yee haw! Evan bridged up to me and made the pass. He rode slightly faster than I did, continually adding time into my hurting legs. On the tail wind stretch of the course I rode with nothing but the sound of my buzzing drive train and my helicopter mimicking wheels, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. On the headwind sections of the course I rode into a nasty foe that sucked my power with the “dirty air” known as “drag.”

The pace Evan and I rode during the bike section had made the race a two person race, I rode away from the field and Evan began to ride away from me. By the final turnaround I calculated Evan’s lead at 40 seconds, our lead on the chasers had swelled to 2:45 - 3 minutes.

I hit T2 and the run porting feeling tired, really tired. My legs were really tired going into the race, I knew I wasn’t going to be really fast, it happens. Despite being insanely tired and in pain, I was telling myself the whole run, “be happy to be suffering.” I am lucky, every race is a good race in my mind. Millions of people can’t do what Evan and I do everyday. I managed the run, finishing in 2nd place and winning my age division. I have never been more tired at a finish line in my life, I barely mustered a hug for Evan. That was a tough race… and I liked it…after I was finished.

Evan deserved the win, he had a great race after a great winter of training, I am glad to see his time pay off. We have gone back and forth with each other for years, if I have to lose, then Evan is a worthy victor.

 I won this trophy, and a few other awards

Evan won my favorite HEED and a manly hug from the Brodacious

 

The day was great for everyone, I had Corrie, Kevin, Jess, Niki, my parents, and a lot of tri fans cheering me on. Triathlons, whether they are dream races of wicked speed and power (been there) or an agony of tried muscles and suffering (been there too) are all experiences that I appreciate. In this game there are no “do overs.”

…and by “game” I mean life.

…and by “life” I actually meant triathlon races.

In that case there are actually “do overs” by signing up the next year…

Unless they move the race to a new venue, then you are out of luck…unless you hold the old course record, then you are the man and everyone else must live with that F - O - R - E - V – E - R. (Sandlot movie quote).

I don’t make the rules.

...unless it is the post race treats rule, then I actually do make the rules.  What better way to enjoy hard training and racing than by buying one of each variety of M&Ms (one bag Reese's) and mixing them together?

 Kevin doing the measuring...he has a Master's Degree so the proportion was perfect.


What happens when a triathlete tries to lift six large bags of treats?

He gets crushed under the weight of every delicious chocolate piece of goodness, MAN DOWN!!!

Here is to more training, racing, and subsequent treats. :)