Race Report -- V's Try-a-Triathlon

And now, for something completely different ... That's how I was feeling as I stood in the parking lot-turned-transition area set up in front of the Francis Family YMCA at 7:10 a.m. ... barefoot, and in just my tri bikini with a shirt thrown over top. Skimpy is de rigeur for triathletes, I'm told, but most present had the sense to bring A) An extra pair of shoes or sandals to avoid traipsing shoeless on blacktop and, B) Some kind of cover-up. I was standing there feeling like I was in my nightshirt at some kind of athletic sleepaway camp. But hey, it was my first time, and this was going to be a fun learning experience. The crew from the Team Toledo triathlon club was fantastic, in that they were exceedingly friendly and approachable, funny during announcements, knowledgeable, and didn't laugh at me when I asked if I should have a towel in the pool area so I could dry off before going to the bike transition area. "Um, no, you shouldn't need one. You will just get on the bike and ride away wet," said the very nice TT member, in a very beautiful accent. Oh, yes. Of course that was what I would do. After all, this is the same sport where you can pee while on your very- to somewhat-expensive bike. Silly me.

#379, ready to go! (I think ...)

 Well, I set up the transition area, with Coach B's help. Bike -- racked and facing the start, with the saddle on top of the bar. Shoes and socks -- accessible. Towels -- yes. Helmet and sunglasses -- flipped upside down in the most ready-to-go fashion. Bike shorts -- well, shorts. Bike jersey -- no, but I do have a shirt. Race number and belt -- yes, ready to go, with emergency contact information inked on the flip side, just in case.

We get last-minute instructions from Ford of Team Toledo. We check the wall for our wave assignments (I'm Wave 3, yay. Not first; not last.).  We get ready to take the plunge -- for real.

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I'm in there somewhere, Coach B assures me.

I take my place on the wall in front of my lane and get to know my lane mate. She professes to being somewhat of a lane hog, which I don't really mind, and I told her I generally hug the lane marker. We'll get along just fine. The second wave is all out, so we hop in the pool. There is a call for 30 seconds to go. Then, 10. ("What the hell happened to 20??," I think.) Then, "GO!" Yeah! I'm freestyling/overhand crawling/what have you, and I'm going really fast. I'm going TOO fast. I'm going against well-intentioned wisdom to remember to "not start out the swim too fast!" But, the adrenaline and excitement have combined to make me think I'm Missy the Missile, not Tori the Turtle. Around Lap 5, I feel the fear. I worry about my breath and start to feel that, "Gosh, it's hot in here. Isn't it hot in here? Hello? Anyone?" I hold my own in the crawl until Lap 9, when I kick it into a breaststroke, or at least my version of a breaststroke. I had lost track of my laps (I always do), and am THRILLED beyond belief to see the lane official lower the red "last one" sign into my lane. I turn and burn as much as possible, front crawling the final length. I scramble out of the pool to applause (they told us to cheer for each other; I wasn't doing anything spectacular, but I enjoyed the support) and run to transition, peeling off goggles and cap while trying not to slip!

Transition 1, or as I like to call it, the public dressing room.

Speed laces were awesome. Really made getting the shoes on fast.

So, I find my bike and dry off my feet. Struggle to get semidry feet into socks, struggle into the Lycra shorts over fairly wet bottoms, and slip my feet into my Sauconys, sans struggle because I bought a pair of elastic speed laces. I pull my shirt on, put my sunglasses in place, and strap on my helmet. Can't go ANYWHERE without the helmet. I lift my bike from the rack and run/walk to the bike start. Once I pass the  start line, I hop on and take a right out of the YMCA, embarking on the first of two "Bedford blocks" that will total eight miles. As Ford said at the beginners' clinic the previous day, the roads were going to be rough because, "This isn't Sylvania. Sorry." That made me laugh then, and keeps me aware of street conditions as I pedal down the rather rural roads. My first act on the bike, once I'm in a decent rhythm, is to reach back into my zippered pocket of my shorts and rustle around until I find *TA-DA* chewing gum. Oh, sweet relief. I pass cheerful, encouraging volunteers, and smile and say thanks to as many as I can. I mentally assess where the roadkill is to avoid breathing in the next time around. Feeling good, I increase my speed for the second lap and actually pass a couple of people. I finish the second "Bedford block" lap and bring it on in to the Y. 

Smiling, because the best part is coming up -- time to RUN.

I'm so happy to start the final leg -- the 2 mile run. I dismount at the transition line, run the bike back to my rack spot, and load the bike back up ... in the most awkward fashion possible. 

Uh, so just back it in here? You mean, make the bike go backwards and then somehow
get the saddle to rest on top of the bar?

Well, after a time of wrestling with it some, I finally park my bike in a stable position. Helmet comes off, race number is spun around to be in the front, and, in a last-minute decision, I decide to go sans shirt and just run in my tri bikini top. This proves to be a good move -- it is pretty warm. I take off and try to remember just where that run course starts. 

Oh, that's right. I'm supposed to run by the rehab place. I get my bearings and start my run. We run by the Dumpster (as Ford promised), and then turn left onto a lightly wooded, large-stone path. This feels great, but am actually glad it's just 2 miles. I pass a couple of people, circle the ball diamonds at Indian Creek Park, and loop back out onto the large-stone path. I say "mahalo" to fellow runners coming in for no discernible reason, and then I can hear cowbells and cheering, and charge for the finish. I have enough left to sprint (so I should have worked harder somewhere), so I tear it up and make my way to the inflatable "Finish" arch. 

Almost done!

I am medaled, watered, bagel'ed, banana'ed, and happy. I just basically "speed-dated" three sports in under an hour, and I really had a great time doing it, even when I thought I might be the last person out of the pool. The triathlon is definitely an event to be respected, no matter what the distances are. Thanks to Team Toledo (ahem, you are all now my teammates -- I hope you don't regret this...) and the Francis Family YMCA for a great first tri experience. I'm in. 

I eat triathlons for breakfast, ROARRR! Not really; I eat peanut butter bagels ...

Sunday's Stats: 

Victoria Dugger Wave 3

Bib #379 

250 yard Swim: 5:34

T1: 2:08

8 mile Bike: 29:17

T2: 1:03

2 mile Run: 16:15

12th overall/53 participants

6th overall woman/36 women

4th fastest run

13th fastest bike

25th in swim

T1  -- 22nd

T2 -- 23rd