Right from the start of this race, there were dark, ominous
clouds overhead. Because of my phobia,
I know cloud types and formation. The ones overhead were not sweet little
stratus clouds. They looked as much like
cumulonimbus as anything I’ve ever seen.
In my world, cumulonimbus clouds mean I stay inside, away from windows, poised
to put a blanket over my head. Those of you who know me well will understand
the magnitude of what I’m about to say next:
I raced anyway. I got in the
water and did my two laps (1.2 miles). I
got on the bike and continued riding through the intense downpours that kept popping
up. I continued with the run even though
I knew there was no place to take cover along the run course. I did the whole race under a very real
threat of thunderstorms. This is
probably the most significant advance I’ve ever made against this phobia.
The ok:
My swim skills have definitely improved. In fact, they have improved to the point in
which I am now getting kicked and jostled in the water just like the other
triathletes. This is new for me, since
until now I was always the lone swim cap in the back. The problem is that I now need to learn how
to pass people. I kept getting caught up
behind people whom I wanted to pass, but couldn’t get through. I also need to work a little more on sighting
so my 1.2 miles is not 1.3 because I find myself off course (happened at least
twice today). Swim time: 48 minutes.
The bike would have been good, but the ugly:
So I’m riding along, feeling good even though it is pouring
(taking it easy in the wet), and I hit mile 12 and hear POP! Yes, my tire.
My back tire. My back friggin
tire. I do not have good tire changing
skills, but I do know how to do it, and I did have the proper tools. Part of
the reason my skills are poor is that when I’ve flatted on the road in the
past, I tend to accept the offers of help from guys who are riding past. I was surprised by how many of those offers I
got today, but I didn’t want to interrupt someone else’s race, so I waived them
off and went to work. The repair took me
at least 17 minutes (my bike computer clocked my bike time at 3:16, and the
race results page has my bike time at 3:33 and some change). I may not win any awards for my
flat-changing skills, but if anyone was giving out prizes for quantity and
variety of use of the “f” word, I certainly would be able to claim one. When I got back on the bike, the first thing
I learned was that the wind had picked up dramatically. A headwind, which continued to strengthen
through the remainder of the ride.
The run was awful.
The sun came out, and it was a combination of humid and windy. I started to panic in the first two miles
because I was already taking walk breaks.
This made me wonder how the hell I am ever going to get through a full
iron-distance tri in just six weeks. I
had hoped for 2:15-2:20 for the run. I
finished in 2:39, which was very discouraging. I was relieved afterward, however, when the
other athletes were talking about how difficult the run was.
My overall time was 7:09:10.
I really expected to come in under seven hours, and had hoped for a time
closer to 6:30. I do feel like I got the
sub-7, because of the time lost dealing with the flat, but I was still not
close to my goal.
Things I learned today:
When I have to arrive at my tri as sunrise is occurring, and
it’s damp and has been raining frequently and the tri is near the shore, bring
mosquito repellant. Lots of mosquito
repellant.
I don’t need to start in the very back any more in the swim.
I was an insanely stupid idiot moron for waiting so long to
install my aero bars. I can’t quantify
how much extra speed I got from them, but boy did they make the ride more
comfortable.
CO2 inflators are awesome.
When my plan is to pop a Tylenol during the bike ride, it
would help to actually bring the Tylenol with me on the bike ride.
Take the extra 10 damn seconds in bike-to-run transition to
reapply my sunscreen.
Put the little sample of body glide that I obtained for just
this purpose in my pocket for the run.
My post-run shower should not sound like an out-of-tune mezzo soprano
audition.
