The mother of all recaps…

My number was 47.

My time was 3:02:17

My overall place was 84/94

This is me just after I crossed the finish line. The girl next to me is Chris. We’re both dead tired and can hardly stand on our own two feet beat. This is the end of the race but it’s not the end of the story. In fact, it’s just the beginning. The beginning of finally being able to call myself an olympic triathlete and just another stepping stone to my ultimate goal: Becoming an IronManWoman. I won’t lie, this race was hard. Harder than Ragnar and harder than any running race I’ve done previously. It was physically challenging. It was mentally challenging. It was at some times emotionally challenging but when I crossed over the finish line after three hours and two minutes of moving in some forward fashion it was by far one of the most fun races I’d participated in since I began changing my life’s journey (though in all honesty it took me a few days to realize just how much fun it was). I needed to wait a a bit to start this recap because for some time afterwards I was cranky, sore and didn’t really see the accomplishment of what I had done. I see it now. I feel it now. I am proud of what I’ve done and I’m ready to recap this delicious race.

To really tell the story we can’t start at this picture.

We have to really go back to the beginning…

(Cue Wayne’s world music)

 

One of the most important things I learned about doing triathlons is to have yourself a bucket. It helps for a variety of reasons; Keeps everything in one place, easy to transport all your gear (shoes, clothes, food) and when you’re dog tired you have a place to sit instead of planting your ass on what is usually wet grass. I like to take my bucket one step farther and decorate it. Taking an hour or two the day before your triathlon to decorate can help you (at least help me) visualize exactly what is about to take place. I was kind of a wreck thinking about how I hadn’t trained as much as I should have, how Meegan was going to be cheering me on from 4000 miles away instead of right next to me, and how this was going to be a mixed (co-ed) triathlon (meaning the big kids were coming out to play and I was about to step into their playground). I asked Meegan to draw me something for the top so that I would see it every time I was in transition and know that she was cheering me on from way over yonder (yes I did just say yonder) and for shits and giggles I recruited the Honey Badger to remind me that not only does he NOT give a shit, he also takes what he wants and if I had anything to say about this race I was going to be taking what I wanted: a finisher’s medal.

If you had been in my room during the early hours before the race, you would have seen me laying awake at 3:00 in the morning waiting for my alarm to go off at 4:00am. You would have seen me staring into oblivion trying to come up with every excuse why I shouldn’t be doing this race and how I wasn’t going to finish. You would have seen me cry a little at the fear of starting. You would have seen me get up and pace about in the dark house hoping to release some of the anxiety. Eventually you would have seen me rise just before the alarm and settle into getting ready…

• Wet suit (check)
• Running Clothes (check)
• Shoes (check)
• Socks (check)
• Towels (check)
• Food / energy gels (check)
• Race number (check)
• Timing chip (check)
• Peppermint Patty – my bike (check)
• Freak out (check check and double-check)

Nothing left to do but go get my medal.

With Michael (eye candy massage therapist turned running partner turned cool ass friend and brother like companion) in tow we head out early Saturday morning. I find my rack (which thankfully was in the very back giving the 8 of us sharing it more room to spread out), place peppermint patty on the end and set about looking at all of the participants. Last year, about this time I completed the Trek Tri sprint triathlon. This was nothing like last year. Trek tri is really set up to “hand hold” you through your first triathlon. Don’t get me wrong, it was nothing to shake a stick at and anyone that completes it is just as much a triathlete as the next person but I didn’t see any $3000 bikes last years. I did this year. I didn’t see any sponsored teams last year. I did this year. I didn’t see trainers and athletes going over spreadsheets, or swimmers greasing themselves down for faster transition times and then precariously attach fancy gadgets to their bikes as they prepared for the start last year.

I did this year.

Thankfully this is where my new friend Chris comes in. She was on the same rack as I was and as it turns out was doing her first Olympic Triathlon too. It calmed my nerves to have her in my space as we talked about how long we thought it was going to take, how we didn’t think we were ready and what our strongest part of the triathlon was going to be (mine: running *fingers crossed*). I also ran into someone from the gym who was doing her first sprint triathlon so it helped me to remember some key points by giving her a few tips about what to expect once you get started. My mind is racing by the time I get my wet suit on and all I can think about is getting started (oh and that I had to pee immediately after zipping myself into this rubber skin apparatus). I kept reminding myself to get into the water as soon as possible to asses the temperature. Last year I almost panicked and quit before I started because the water was so cold and I wasn’t prepared. The second most important thing I learned last year (the first being the bucket) was to immerse yourself in the water before they blow the whistle. Get the shock of the cold out of your system. The last thing you want to have happened is to go head first into the water only to find you’re unable to catch your breath because the water was so damn cold.

Luckily this year the water was warm.

I get in and out of the water a few times, swim around a bit to get used the feel of the wet suit and then I go about forcing people to high-five me because everyone is so freaking serious. Yes, I know this is a competitive race for some but for Pete’s sake people let’s wish each other luck and if you won’t let me pat your ass the least you can do is high-five me. The Olympic boys are sent off on their way and in just a few short minutes I’m about to start my own Olympic triathlon…

The Swim

 

(31:15 74/94)

The swim in any triathlon is the hardest part for me. This one mile leg proved that once again. I’m not afraid of the water (including open water swim) so fear doesn’t play a part in why this is the hardest. It’s the physical aspect of it. I practice my swim in the gym pool. I know I can go the distance with no problem but I’m so used to stopping and drinking water or taking a break that to go the entire distance without stopping is a challenge.

I like to stay in the back of the pack as we take off because having a few dozen pairs of legs flailing around you can lead to some foot/mouth action that I’m not to keen on. Don’t get me wrong, I like a pretty pair of feet in my mouth, just not while I’m trying to complete my first olympic triathlon. Immediately the competitive women distance themselves from us “we’re just trying to finish” women and I settle into a nice stroke. We have to go around the buoy triangle twice before we can get out of the lake and head back to the transition area. First time around I spend most of the time trying to get my bearings and remember the techniques to open water swim (instead of focusing on the big floating markers in the water focus on something beyond them on land to keep yourself in a straight line) and when I come around to start my second lap I’m feeling pretty good. I didn’t veer off too badly (not like the girl who swam at us in a perpendicular fashion setting herself way off course) and only had one run in with the plant life that caused me to stop and untangle myself. When I rounded the last buoy and headed back to shore I took a look behind me and there were only a handful of olympic women still in the water. I didn’t care. I never came to this race to compete with the other participants. I came to do three things: 1) Start. 2) Finish 3) Party while I’m move. I zone in on the big yellow floaty thingy and as soon as I could touch my feet to land (slippery, mossy, “I should have swam closer to shore” land) I was ready to finish this triathlon like it was no one’s business.

The Bike 

(1:22:30 84/94)

The oly boys are long gone as are most of the oly girls. There was no vying for space on the road as I was one of the last participants out of the corral. By the time I got to getting to where I was going some of the competitive racers were starting their second 12 mile loop of the course. Biking is my second strongest portion of the triathlon so I settle in to a nice (yet relatively slow) 15 mph pace and take in what is going on around me. Bonny lake is a beautiful place to have a triathlon and there was no denying that mother nature was good to us that day. Sunny but not too warm. Clear skies. Open roads with little to no traffic and cows.

Yes I said cows.

When you’re going to a triathlon knowing that your sole responsibility is to not drown, not crash and not trip you find that relaxing comes a little easier. Yes I was always looking out for someone to pass and yes I was taking the small pleasure of calling those passes “Decepticon” kills as if this was a Ragnar race (Go Team Optimus Prime) but when you have a beautiful mountain and wide open farm land to look at while on your bike you can’t help but want to take a few minutes and smell the roses… or in this case: the manure.

I can’t tell you how many times I gave a hearty “moooooooo” to the hundreds of four-legged bovines that were out to pasture, sometimes screaming “I’ll be back around again so keep an eye out for me” to remind me that this triathlon was about having fun. I could never compete with the cyclists zooming past me at 24 mph with their fancy cylinder shaped helmets and their fancy clipped in shoes. They came with a purpose and that purpose was to place in their division. I came with a purpose and that purpose was to empower myself and all the other people who have struggled with obesity to get up, move forward and find the life we deserve to live. With every decepticon kill I encouraged the rider to keep going, that they were doing awesome, that the scenery was to die for so keep their head up. Every time I went by someone who was overweight and still found the courage to get up that morning and step up to the starting line I slowed down so they could read my shirt and remind themselves that they too are their own afters…

 The Run

(1:02:34 82/94)

Mile swim (check). 22 mile bike ride (check). All that’s left is the 6.2 mile run and I am officially an Olympic triathlete. There is only one minor problem: I’m exhausted. I rack peppermint patty, and I feel like I’m moving as slow as molasses when I start running. Michael is running with me for a short bit to let me know how I was doing time wise and to give me the much-needed boost to get this done. Running is the strongest leg of the triathlon but it comes last so it takes a while to get into the grove of things…

A long while.

The day is starting to warm up, my hamstrings are sore, I’m hungry and again I am one of the last olympic participants so there is hardly anyone on the course once I veer off from the sprint runners. Not a whole lot to see and do except remind myself that in less than an hour I’m going to be done and to keep putting one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t until between mile three and four that I started to feel better about my pace and getting excited to be just a few miles from the finish line. The running course was brutal. Lots of hills and not country rolling hills either. Steep, muscle burning, “screw this I’m walking” hills. I walked more than I wanted but when I look at my mile pace (10:28) I’m actually really impressed that I did as well as I did. You can’t tell from this picture but my new friend Chris is behind me. We started together and we managed to finish together with a little coaxing on my part. I didn’t get a chance to tell her how proud I was of her and what an honor it was to meet and rack our bikes together. Luckily though her last name is posted on the race results so maybe I’ll try to stalk find her on Facebook. Michael took this picture at mile 5 where he was waiting for me. He was a sight for sore eyes and gave me that final push to keep going as he ran with me to the finish line.

This time last year I was finishing my first sprint triathlon. Hours after I finished it I vowed to go onto an olympic distance triathlon. I’ve got my eyes (and heart/soul) on completing an IronMan some day but hours after finishing this all I wanted to do was curl up with a stuffed animal and listen to soft jazz as I rock myself to sleep.

It was hard.

Harder than anything I’ve ever done.

I loved every second of it.

My body wants to be pushed beyond what I think are its limits. It wants the sweat and sore muscles. It wants my brain to think I can’t so it can step up to the plate and prove over and over again that not only I can, but that I will. Maybe you’re reading this and thinking “there is no way…”

This once morbidly obese person thought so too

(I am an Olympic Triathlete!)