Tri-ed: Farmington Women’s Triathlon Race Recap

Well, I did it.  I completed my first sprint distance triathlon.  Hear that deadpan?  Yeah, I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much I thought I would.  What?  I thought I would enjoy beating myself to a pulp swimming biking and running for over two hours?  Yeah, silly me.

We arrived in town the afternoon prior to go to packet pickup and the “first timers” clinic.  Not before my girlfriend and I hoped that we’d loaded the bikes on her husband’s bike rack properly (they didn’t fall off on the highway) and not before we realized we hadn’t thought about bike locks (we miraculously “found” one next to the bike in the garage that I didn’t even know was there).

Somehow we managed to do this right.

Somehow we managed to do this right.

I’m glad we went to the first timers clinic.  Even though I read the twelve page rather intimidating information packet before the race, all of the “rules” about biking really were not very clear.  The woman who ran the clinic made everything very clear.  Was I nervous?  No.  Probably should have been, but no.

My girlfriend and I checked into the hotel and went to dinner nearby, taking the opportunity to carb load (wine is a carb, right?) by eating way too much.  Back to the hotel afterwards for an early bedtime.

We had agreed to wake by 4:45am and leave by 5:15, with the goal of being early enough to find parking easily and navigate our first timer selves through all of the unknowns that lay ahead.  We made it to the race site and found it buzzing already even though it was still dark.  It was go time.

We unloaded the bikes.  First up:  to label the bikes with “bike tents” with our race numbers on them.  These are big sticky two sided numbers that go on the bike so if someone can’t see your race number while you’re all hunched over riding, they still can figure out who you are.  After a few tries, we got it well enough and went to get body marked.

At our tri they marked both arms and our right hands with the last three numbers of our race number and then our left calves with our age.  This became really useful later on when I was seeing people pass me…were they older or younger?  Shit, that one is over 50.  Ha.

IMG_0910

Once we had our bodies marked it was time to get into the transition area and set up our bikes.  We had to load in certain racks by our race numbers, so my girlfriend and I were no where near each other.  I went about my business and so did she.  Before long our little areas were all done, and it was still dark out.

IMG_0907

Slowly our other friends started to show up and before long it was time to head down to the beach.  I was in the fourth wave of swimmers, so we watched how each group would line up, get corralled and then walk over the timing mat and into the water.

IMG_0925

Possibly the only time I will ever publicly post photos of me in a swimsuit.

The horn blew and it was go time. As with running, I positioned myself in the back and started out slow.  It was harder than my training swims; I had to drop into breast stroke more than I had planned.  But I plodded on and just got it done.  About two thirds of the way through I saw some new colored caps coming up from behind; the next wave.  Oh well.  No one said I was here to set any records.

Half mile swim:  28:32.

I left the water feeling pretty good.  It was a long slog but I felt I’d done what I could do.  It was a fair distance from the beach to the entrance to transition; at first I was trying to walk it to save energy but it was taking forever so I started to jog.

On my way to the next part of the journey.

On my way to the next part of the journey.

I got into transition and felt calm. I grabbed my towel and mopped off and put on my shirt with my race bib on it. It took a little tangling being wet but I managed. Next up shorts over the suit. Then I quickly rinsed my feet and grabbed a swig of water before drying my feet and putting on the socks and shoes. I put on my helmet and walked my bike out of transition in what I felt was a decent amount of time.

T1: 3:58

Onto the bike and ready to go. Within a minute I felt something pulling hard on my left shoe; I realized my shoelace was wound around my pedal. Shit! I pulled off to the side and tried to unwind it. I could just feel the precious seconds ticking by as it wasn’t unwinding. Finally I had to pull off the entire shoe and slowly unwind it. I managed that, and then retied both shoes in double knots. I was frustrated at the time I lost, but no matter. I had to get moving.

Once out on the course I felt good. I knew all along I didn’t have a racing bike; it is an old bike that I now know is a hybrid road/mountain bike. It is built for tough trails and can take anything. What it doesn’t do well is hills. And when the first one hit, I could feel my energy sap. Oh well, I told myself, the course was supposedly pretty flat so I should be fine.

Yeah, no. There were several pretty decent hills within the first few miles and I was breathing hard through them. It was a struggle even in my lowest gear and I could feel my energy and enthusiasm drain out of me with every person that passed me. While I knew I wasn’t going to be speedy, I had trained enough for this to want a respectable time and I could feel it slipping away with every rise in the road.

But I pushed on and tried to talk myself into a better head space. I was working as hard as I could to move the bike and the course was beautiful. Quintessential New England; historic homes, beautiful landscapes, farms. Finally, finally, I entered back into the park and smiled for the camera as they snapped my picture.

Proof someone was behind me as I closed in on the bike finish.

Proof someone was behind me as I closed in on the bike finish.

11.5 mile bike: 58:51

I ran into transition and went to rack my bike. As I had feared, the rack was completely full because I’d been so slow. I found a spot a foot or so down from my stuff and went to lift the bike. Damn, this sucker is heavy! I couldn’t get it up facing one way so I had to stop, turn it around and try again. Success! Then I just rummaged through my bag for my hat (easy to find) and my handheld water bottle (not easy). After getting both, I tried to jog out of transition dreading what I knew lay ahead on the hilly 5K course.

T2: 1:56

Immediately I knew I was in trouble. All the effort keeping my heavy bike moving had turned my legs to jello. I couldn’t believe how hard even shuffling into the slowest jog felt. I sipped on my handheld bottle and tried to just keep moving forward. As we left transition, I saw the first hill loom in front of me.

I slowed to a walk. I had just no juice left in me at all. I felt completely spent and ready to burst into tears. I told myself that I would just keep moving forward. I would walk until I had enough breath to run, and I would run until I couldn’t any more.

The 5K was on a trail course. It was very hilly, sandy and rooty. It would have been a challenging 5K without having done swimming and biking before it. I absolutely hated every second of it. I had so wanted to enjoy this race but by this time it was everything I had to just keep moving forward and not collapse onto the ground in tears.

It seemed to take forever but finally we left the trails and fortunately for me, the finish line was only about a quarter mile or so beyond. I started jogging and ran as fast as I could towards the time clock, noting gratefully that it said 2:29:30. I had hoped to finish under 2:30 and since my wave started 12 minutes after the first in the water, I knew I’d beaten that by a fair amount.

3.1 mile run: 44:22

Grateful to be crossing the finish line.

Grateful to be crossing the finish line.

I’ve beaten myself up in the time since about finishing last of all of the women in our group doing this triathlon. I couldn’t believe I’d trained so hard, put so much time in and I posted such a poor time. My friends were all lovely even though I was stealing everyone’s joy out of finishing our first triathlon. “Comparison is the thief of joy” and I totally let it suck the amazing accomplishment out of the moment for me. I did the best that I could, I tried to tell myself. But my inner mean girl felt like a fat loser who just couldn’t push herself hard enough.

I now know, after having talked to my local bike shop owner, that my bike was my handicap. He said that the bike is so heavy it is not supposed to be used for racing, and that it simply is harder to move. He congratulated me for completing the course as well as I did considering how much that bike must have taken out of me. He told me I should shave at least ten minutes off of my time to get a truer sense of how hard I’d worked to complete the race.

Now I feel proud of what I did, but also guilty for taking away everyone’s high with my own insecurities and frustrations when I finished the race. I will make it up to them when we repeat this experience again. Because there is no way I will let that experience be my only experience doing a triathlon. I put a deposit down on a new bike today, and I’m already trying to decide when the next one will be.

Finish: 2:17:39

11986393_10156003923990344_6711685466269324642_n

Advertisements

About mostlyforward

Somewhere on the journey to a better life, depending on the day...moving (mostly) forward.

Trackbacks / Pingbacks

  1. 2015….The Best and Worst Fitness Year | Mostly Forward - January 2, 2016

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: