BLOG: My First Tri
In a sense I dove in head first, but the fact is I started my first triathlon by treading water for a few minutes…then embarked on a 2 hour journey that I'll never forget. In my life, stuff "just happens" with me. I don't really plan things- they just come up. My first triathlon was a "suggestion"- the next thing I know I'm standing on a hill at 6am on a warm summer morning looking out at a lake in Columbia, MD that I had committed to swim. I commit myself to things like this so that I have no way out: it's "just do it" without an escape. As I looked out at Centennial Lake, I thought to myself, "what the hell am I doing?"
The answer: a sprint triathlon which is .6 miles of swimming in the lake, 17.4 miles on a bicycle and a run of 3.5 miles. In and of themselves, each of the endeavors is reasonably doable for even a semi-fit person. But when you do them in succession the challenge is greater. And the greatest challenge was that lake: dark, warm and daunting with so many others surrounding me as I kicked my feet to stay afloat before the start. Countdown….3-2-1…go! Wait…wait…first-time triathletes are told to let the others go out first, then start swimming. So I did wait, and when I started swimming, I had no idea where I was going. See, I trained in a pool where you can see. There's nothing to see in a murky lake. Nothing but light brown and bubbles and waves. Arms flailing, head up to breathe, touching arms and legs of the other guys who waited I immediately hated my first triathlon. I can't see, it's hard to breathe, I'm annoyed, half-panicked and the clock is ticking (which only makes the panic worse). Eventually though there's open water and I'm swimming. Head up (not like in a pool) but at least I'm moving, although with little point of reference I don't feel like I'm moving very fast. "Just swim" I tell myself. You're fit. Crank it out. Stroke and breathe. You'll get there. You'll get there. I'm getting there. I don't know how, but if I keep stroking and breathing, I'm getting there. Now get me OUT of here! I can't get out of aquatic hell fast enough. It was like waking up from a nightmare as my feet hit the bottom of the lake at the exit point: Oh, good I'm not dead! Hooray- where's that damn bike. I'm so glad to be on the ground!
Triathlon transition: the jog from the beach exit for a quick dry, put on shoes, grab my bike and run alongside the cycle up hill until someone says it's safe to mount. I was so glad to get on that bike (which meant mostly: OUT OF THE WATER, that my legs churned powerfully, freely and efficiently once I was in the seat and spinning. I'm Lance freaking Armstrong on that Cannondale, passing everyone I can going uphill or downhill. I'm so annoyed by the swim (still) that I ride with vengeance. I'm in touch with the surface of the road and with every incline or decline I feel like I'm rolling. Keep on rolling I tell myself. Legs churning freely and efficiently…God, this is so much better than swimming. The 17+ miles of cycling are over faster than I could imagine. I see traffic cones and we're told to slow down. No, I want to keep cranking these pedals! Okay then time for another transition. Let's run!
Off the bike, run alongside it and rack it, take off that bike helmet and start running. Running is my thing and I was looking forward to doing what I do best…but it never felt like this! Drain your body and soul on a nightmare swim, spill your guts out on a cathartic bike ride….NOW do what comes easy and running doesn't come easy at all! Damn- for the first time in forever running feels difficult. I'm passing runners who are close to walking (like zombies) but I don't feel all that alive myself. My legs are moving and I'm turning my stride over, but I feel like I'm in a dream plodding through mud. Yet I keep passing others who REALLY seem to be in mud. Okay- I'll go with this. Just keep moving, and breathing . I've been here before: mile 24 of a 26.2 mile marathon! So, keep going….and going…and you can here the announcer at the finish line. Just keep running toward the voice. People are walking and I'm running in a competitive sense, this is good for me. I'll walk when I'm done- but for now I'm running. Finish line announcer getting louder, the end getting closer and I'm getting faster. I'm thinking about that damn lake which is on my right hand side now. You win, water but pavement I can handle. In all quite a trio: water, bike and pounding pavement. I'm done. 2 hours later, I'm done.
I've run 22 marathons and one triathlon. That one triathlon had so many physical and mental challenges that I never encountered before. That's why we climb these mountains to say we did. I'm hungry and thirsty now but somehow satisfied. We do this because we can, and because we can create a baseline from which to build. Next?
(A special heart-felt thanks to Sadj Bartolo of the Mid-Maryland Tri Club and Alan Davis of Princeton Sports for their encouragement and support. I could not have done it- and would not have done it- without them!).
