Team Z is a team that is very welcoming to new triathletes. It's common to hear "Oh, I'm just doing a sprint," or "I've only raced a 5k." I particularly hear this when they learn that I've completed an Ironman. But there is no "just" or "only" in any kind of athletic endeavor. While completing Ironman in 2009 blew everything else out of the water, I still consider completing my first triathlon as my greatest athletic accomplishment.
Through my own journey (admittedly long - it took me four years before I even considered Ironman) and through watching others go from not being able to swim 25 yards without looking like they're drowning, or riding a Huffy with platform pedals, to completing a full triathlon, I have come to the conclusion that an accomplishment is measured not by its distance, but by how far you've come.
I came from the couch to my first athletic event - a sprint triathlon - and a shortish one at that. I trained for months, following a plan shared with me by my friend who'd encouraged me to sign up. I rode a ten year old hybrid (the Mongooooooooose), shoes that were half a size too small, and I was nervous as hell. And by the time I crossed that finish line, I was hooked.
So ... here, in its entirety, is my race report from my first triathlon. And as a bonus, Mark's supporter report is appended.
Note 1 - I apologize for having written the sort of race report I call "the Hobbit Report" because you'll hear about my breakfast, and my second breakfast, and my walk breaks, and my bladder and all the rest. I'm over that now.
Note 2 - the Danskin women's triathlon series was an incredible introduction to triathlon for women of all sorts of sizes and athletic abilities. Extremely welcoming to beginners, the race spokeswoman was always the last woman to finish the swim, bike and run and the second-to-last place woman received a big tiara and gift basket. The year I raced, 17,000 women across the country participated in the series. The motto for the series was "The woman who finishes the race is not the same as the woman who finishes the race." I'm shamelessly stealing this as the tag line for this iteration of Indyflies.
RACE REPORT: DANSKIN NY METRO, Sandy Hook, NJ; September 19, 2004
On Friday, September 17, 2004, I celebrated the second anniversary of my first Weight Watchers meeting. On Sunday, September 19, 2004, I completed my first triathlon. It was an awesome experience and I am indeed a different woman to the one who began the race.
With the race scheduled to begin at 7 am, we got up at 4:30 am. Strangely enough, I had slept well the night before, waking only twice briefly. I was up and at 'em and into my race clothes quickly, then settled down for a muffin and banana. At 5:15 I met up with my friend Chris at the car with our respective partners. Chris was the one who had gently bullied me into signing up for my first triathlon and who had consistently told me that I could finish and without whom I could not have done this. Plus, she’d had major abdominal surgery only ten weeks before and had only been able to pick up training again four weeks ago. Incredible effort to get to the race, let alone finish it.
Unfortunately, the remnants of Hurricane Ivan were hanging around and although it looked like it was going to be a clear day, the wind was blowing about 25mph. The temperature was in the early 50s but the wind made it feel much much colder. I was wearing all the clothes I had brought with me, which was unfortunately not too much.
We got to the site about 6:00 am and headed to the transition area which was on a Coast Guard station, so strict security. I racked my bike and made new friends in the portaloo line, including a woman who was racing as a 50th birthday present to herself and another who’d just fallen off her bike and scraped her leg after testing it out while it was still in the back seat of her car. Small bike, big car I guess.
To the beach, where we all shivered in the windy conditions. I don’t know how often this happens, but the water was way warmer than the air. In fact, it was beautiful, so I was glad to hear the countdown and we were off. I positioned myself on the side so as to avoid the crush and managed to get swimming immediately. Aside from worrying that I would swim into the incoming swimmers, I felt great out there – all that worrying for nothing. I rolled, stroked and breathed out of both sides. Aside from whacking a woman in the face and getting hit by one of the buoys, I felt confident and even passed some swimmers! Then I rounded the far buoy and discovered that I had confidently swum into some lovely clear water. Unfortunately it was clear because I was off course. Thankfully I looked up and there was a very nice looking young man on a surf board. “Wrong direction, I guess?” “Yep.” I stroked back into the pack and learned a wonderful trick – follow breaststrokers – they always know where they’re going.
Swim: 21:43 – faster than I’ve ever swum it (perhaps the wind blew the buoys in after they’d repositioned them?).
Jogged (jogged!!!!!!) to the transition area. Peed, washed my feet, socked, shoed, put on my spiffy new glasses, decided to leave my gloves behind and took off on the bike.
T1: 4:24
The bike was a straight out and back, and only ten miles. With the wind at my back, I decided to really push it as fast as I could for the first half and make up as much time as I could. My butt and calves hurt – what did I use my butt for in the swim?!! But I felt comfortable and achieved my goal of saying “on your left” to at least three people. It was great to see the volunteers and park rangers out on the course, far beyond any spectators. I had been reading Jayne Williams’ “Slow, Fat Athlete” and remembered her saying to thank the volunteers, so I made sure that I did. The wind ensured a good clip at about 20 mph. Then I turned the corner and headed back. The tail wind was now a ferocious head wind. I’d seen women weaving all over the road trying to pedal against the wind and had figured that the best I could do was drop down my gears and just spin. Just keep spinning. The strategy seemed to work fairly well – that and occasionally drafting. I developed a new goal on this leg of the bike – not to be passed by another mountain bike. Plenty of road bikes went whizzing by, but I kept all other mountain bikes behind me. Coming back into the main area, the spectators were incredible. I just loved seeing all those men out there cheering on their wives, girlfriends and daughters. Complete strangers cheered me on. Me!
Bike: 38:47. 17 mph. (omilord – I see a road bike in my future – I could break the sound barrier on one!)
T2: Uneventful (race belts rock!): 54 seconds
Run. Ah – here I was worried. I always seem to get the stitch and I’m slow. And I’m injured. But despite the hard hard work against the wind for the past 5 miles, my legs felt more like feathers than bricks. I’m not very good at pacing myself, so I had no idea of how I was doing until I saw that wonderful first mile post – 9:26 pace! Wow! I never run that kind of pace for the first mile, let alone after a swim and bike! And I managed to keep the pace up. Felt good, concentrated on breathing from my belly, didn’t take any water to keep my stomach light. Thanked everyone in sight, encouraged women I passed and watched with awe the women who passed me. On the approach to the final turn, a woman started to pass me and I thought “screw that!” and picked up my pace. Passed her and a couple other women on the “sprint” to the finish line. Saw Mark up against the fence cheering me on and just ran faster – who wouldn’t with all those wonderful people cheering them on? I lifted my arms and ran under the finish banner.
Run: 30:02. Pace: 9:41 min mile (can you believe that? Under 10 min mile!)
Final time: 1:35:52. My goal was 2 hrs. I guess I achieved that one, eh? 36/93 in my age group. 210/701 overall.
I am totally hooked on this sport. I am totally hooked on the incredible spirit and support of the Danskin triathlons. The greatest thing for me was seeing Mark’s face – I don’t think he’s ever been prouder of me. I balled my eyes out on his shoulder – all that training, all that visualizing of crossing the finish line, all those doubts about my ability to stick with anything let alone this exercise jag. I certainly wasn’t prepared for how great it would feel to cross the finish line. I certainly wasn’t prepared for how fresh I’d feel when I crossed the line. I certainly wasn’t prepared for how emotional I’d feel watching team survivor members cross the finish line, or the final finishers, hand in hand with Sally Edwards. It’s been two years since I started on a journey that I thought was only about weight but became about so much more. It’s been seven months since I started a journey that I thought was only about health and fitness but became so much more. Thank you for your support, for answering all those beginner questions and for telling me over and over again how much fun this sport is.
Supporter’s Report from Mark
Well, getting up at sparrow-fart wasn’t a problem; I’ve been doing that for my beloved for years (she has a habit, when we go on holiday, of trying to leave early enough to “beat the traffic”—the time required to achieve this feat, however, has constantly crept backward until now, even on the longest journey, we usually arrive well before the stores open!)! But let’s just say that I’d been expecting it to still be summer up in New Jersey, or at least still late fall. Instead, we were unexpectedly plunged into the middle of winter, with the wind blowing forty bastards and me standing there in the middle of people wearing North Face parkas, and more polar fleece than an REI sale. . .obviously I didn’t get the memo. It was so cold that after about 20 minutes I was begging the organizers to let me compete just so I could get warm again!
Because of the security we couldn’t get very close to the swim start, so it was all a mass of flailing limbs and threshing water from my perspective. But this was the worst part of the day for me. I was so nervous that I was sick, knowing that it was the event that Mary had worried most about, that she’d never swum with such a large group, that it was only her second ocean swim. I was scared that she’d get injured, get discouraged. And then, suddenly I saw her jogging back to the transition area, WAY before I’d expected her. I didn’t even have my camera ready (this was but the first of many failed attempts to actually photograph her in the event—I ended up with a series of photos that were blurry, or where she was making a guest appearance in the corner of the frame. In my own defense, however, I would say that I really wanted to watch her, to see how she was feeling, and trying to take photos was a real block to that. Sometimes its more important to stop trying to photograph what’s going on around you so you can actually see what’s going on around you). But when I saw her come out of the water so much earlier than I expected, and looking so happy I knew there was no stopping her).
The course was actually pretty well set up for spectators, I felt, much better than I was expecting. I got to see Mary start and finish the cycle, start and finish the run, it was great. In between her starring appearance in my vision which rendered everyone else invisible I had a fantastic time. On the bike leg I spent a lot of time checking out all the different bikes and gear—couldn’t believe the variety of hydration devices that people had! I had a good spot right on the final turn into the road back into the transition area. One thing that really struck me was how determined so many of the women looked as they came down the straight—many of the women in the first group looked positively intimidating! And then there was the 12 year old girl whose mere presence in the race made me feel completely inadequate. . .
The crowd was incredibly supportive and soon I was caught up in the spirit of it all. It really struck me how the race was not really about competing, but about honoring the people who were competing, and the sacrifices they’d made and the challenges they’d overcome to get there, and so I was whooping and hollering with the best of them. All around me family support was in evidence, including lots of kids whose constant refrain was “When’s mommy coming?” Some people had even brought their dogs, including a German Shepherd who did exactly the same whine as our German Shepherd when she is separated from one of us (her equivalent of “When’s Mommy coming?”). And when I saw the dog meet up with his mom after the race he did exactly the same bizarre half-leap/twist with a shoulder nudge as our dog.
I hadn’t expected the racers to be so appreciative of the support from total strangers. I’d expected to see, as I did, a woman who had only just started the run when she saw her whole family and rushed off the course to give all her kids a hug before continuing on her way. But I hadn’t expected so many people to thank the spectators, or who began to act all goofy when we were all applauding, even though they were obviously completely knackered.
While I was waiting for Mary near the finish line I was standing next to two guys, and they were talking about their wives times, training methods, etc., in the way you usually hear guys talk about football games. It makes me think there’s hope for the world yet.
I can’t even begin to describe what it was like to see Mary come down the straight and finish. It was just the best thing ever. I didn’t feel at all surprised, or surprised that she had done so much better than she had expected to. She’s got quite a competitive streak, and I knew that if she started passing people on the swim there would be no stopping her. But I felt so proud that she’d set this goal for herself and accomplished it all by herself. It’s not that I need any more evidence of what I special person I’m married to. It just made me feel luck to be able to share the event with her.
For my first triathlon, it was a total blast (pun intended)—and now, several hours later, feeling is finally returning to my frozen limbs.
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