RR: Webster Sprint Tri

Webster Sprint Triathlon
Webster, MA
June 25, 2006
8:00 am
Rain, steady, 60-70s

Why is success so surprising? Why is it so absolutely dumbfounding when we reach a goal we set? Why is there such a sense of wonder, of awe?

I’m not sure what it is, but it’s something I’ve been addicted to lately.

A little background: This is the same race site (and course) as the Danskin triathlon I did as my very first last year. I wanted to go back to see what I could do (with a new bike and more training and experience). I wanted to see if I had improved at all. I doubted that I had, and I hadn’t even bothered to check what my times were for the last race. No expectations. No pain.

This morning dawned defying the weather forecasters. Cloudy. No rain. I thought we had dodged a bullet. I felt silly for calling my new friend Joe the day before and telling him it might be wise to pack everything in plastic. I felt really dumb for making that garbage bag pack cover for my “tri bag.” But, I reminded myself that this is New England. The weather changes in the blink of an eye.

My training partner, Jo, and I head out on the road, only to meet our new weather in short order. Rain. Lots of it. Having some extensive experience in the stuff, honestly it didn’t phase me. So what? We’re going to start in a SWIM, for heavens sake! Bring it on.

We get to the race site and register. Listening to the sights and sounds of the race, I notice that the organizers must have asked my dentist to give a sample of his office music for prerace festivities. We get to the bike rack and this poor little soul comes up to rack her bike somewhat grudgingly. She says, “I can’t believe they aren’t going to call the race!” Me: “Why!? It’s just raining.” Oops. Seriously. I don’t get it. So you get wet. Then this other guy on our rack was grumping about how there were other better things he could be doing on a Sunday morning. My thought? “Well, just go do them then!” (I didn’t say that one, thankfully, as the brain-mouth barrier had been reestablished.)

My stomach isn’t playing nice, so we make the rather LONG trek to the bathroom (by the lake). Thank goodness things happen that should and I am suddenly a much happier camper. As we tromp back to the bikes I remember just how long that run is going to be from the lake to the transition area. I also note how bad that ground is going to feel on my bare tootsies and opt for the extra seconds to put on a pair of tevas after the swim (smart!).

By some stroke of genius, I had organized each part of my transition area in separate plastic grocery bags (the night before: so that unpacking was a cinch and nothing got wet neither during the transition setup nor the race). We finally head down to the beach, take a practice swim and wait for the dudes to start the race. I look for Karis and Joe (although I honestly don’t remember what he looks like… it was a good way to pass the time though!). We wait some more. 8:10. 8:20. 8:25. Finally the RD comes on the horn. Apparentl,y there was a downed tree on the course (Bunny hopping not having been mastered yet, I was very thankful they removed it) and LOTS of standing water. Woo Hoo! Ignorance is bliss. I don’t really care, just get me started on this damn swim. I’m freezing my arse off here!

SWIM:
We finally get going. La la la. We’re in the third wave, and man this is a long swim. I’m still not out to this first corner. Round the corner. BLAM!!! Oy. “F&^% ME!,” I yell. Some freaking Clydesdale tri-dude just rang my bell pretty nicely. I figure since I can still curse like a sailor (and draw some decent laughter in the process… I’m here to help folks!), I must be okay. Thankfully the rest of the swim was uneventful. I remember sending Joe some happy swimming thoughts. (Don’t think he needed them, to be honest….)

I get out and glance at my watch. Oy. Well, that sucks! Shake it off. There are things to do. Need shoes. Need to run 1/3+ mile to bike.

So, before you all tell me that I should save the party or the make-over for next time, keep in mind that it’s a freaking HAUL to the transition area. I didn’t have time to reapply my eyeliner, and still spent 7:24 in la la land.

BIKE:
I was a good triathlete and re-set my computer, but the gods hated me I guess (or really, really loved me) as the sucker crapped out right at the beginning of the 1+ mile long hill. Lovely. Maybe I didn’t want to know how un-fast I was going anyway. Fine.

The hill has three stages. I’m well versed with this thing since I did it last summer. So I’m a little sad when I see a gal walking her bike just a few feet into it. I tell her that she can do it, and she responds (a little bitterly), “No, YOU can do it.” I argued one more time, hoping she would just get mad at me and hop back on.

I get up the hill, take a deep breath, and hang on for dear life. The worst screaming downhill I’ve ever encountered meets me at the very tippy top.

OhmygodI’mgoingtodie… Momcanhavethecats.

And then: “Momma! Just killed a man… put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead. MOMMAAAAA….”

Okay. Let’s just say I see ½ of my life flash in front of my eyes. Nasty road, lots of water, obstacles, and VERYFREAKINSTEEP. Hands cramping.

I finally see the lady at the bottom… HARD right hand turn. I crawl around that puppy and start working. Lots of nice rollers and flat coming. Let’s haul it. Three guys thought they could pass me, but I love rollers. I pass ‘em all again. And then some. I cruise into T2 (after seeing Jo out on the run).
T2 is much better (2:17), however I manage to drop my sunglasses and step on them (clutz!). Momma always said my middle name wasn’t Grace for a reason. Thank god it’s raining!

I decide I’m going to kick it up on the run. I want to say that I left it all out on the course, and while I worked hard on the bike, I still feel pretty decent. Tired, but decent. Some gal in my AG passes me and I try to keep up. Nope. There’s kicking it, and there’s foolish. Maybe I’ll catch her on the flip side. I see Jo again, tell her to push it in (she’s having a great race!).

Nothing weird on the run. No chickens or dead frogs. Just baby rollers. As I head back to the finish, I see another lady in my AG. She’s a marked woman. I am absolutely determined to catch her and pass her. I don’t care how it happens, or what shade of blue I am when I cross that finish, but I am going to be ahead of her in the standings, darnit. (Of course I wish her the best and all of that….)

We round the corner. I’m gaining, but it’s hard. Gaining some more. We round the last corner. I pass her (“Great job!”) and head on to the grass (thinking: Wouldn’t this be funny…. I just busted my ass to pass this poor lady and I go blam on my butt on the grass?). Thankfully that didn’t happen. I see a dude blaze by me as I kick it. (Darn – you better not mess up my picture, Cowboy.)

Can’t breathe. Can’t see. Must hit stop.

Breathing, seeing and stopping the watch all commence and they remove my chip. I find Jo. I think she’s talking to me. I mumble. “Um, are you okay?” Blank stare. “Wha…?”

I think it’s safe to say I left it all out there. Anyhoo, I’m tickled pink. There is almost nothing better than knowing that you are getting better, and having a ton of fun doing it. Next up…. First oly in two weeks!

2006 (2005):
Swim: 18:42 (18:18)
T1: 7:24 (7:06)
Bike: 50:02/14.7mph (58:13/12.7mph)
T2: 2:17 (2:32)
Run: 27:36/9:31 (29:42/10:14)
Total: 1:46:01 (1:55:53)