Number 31

Well, I finally did it. After three years of thinking about it and doing shorter sprint-distance triathlons, I registered for and completed a twice-as-long Olympic distance tri.

It was one of my loftier goals for the year, and as the time drew nearer to the All-Women's event at the end of July, I got serious about swimming. With eight weeks til the race, I worked out a way to ramp up my swimming distance to end at the race distance-- a full mile.

It turned out that an old friend was getting married the night before that race, so I spent a few weeks ignoring the issue before hunkering down to pick a race. Finding a race of the distance I wanted on a free weekend (after August 1) turned out to be tough. I had my choice of two on the same day: one in Kent, WA, away from home with a 50 yard swim out to a deep-water start; or Portland's triathlon with a swim in the infamously filthy Willamette River.

You can guess which one I chose-- the easier one! I registered two or three weeks beforehand so I couldn't back out.

Krista, an amazing swimmer and patient, generous friend, took me swimming at Hagg Lake twice, so I got some much-needed open water experience. When an email went out mentioning a practice swim in the Willamette, I was floored that she agreed to go with me for that, too. She even stayed with me, practically treading water while I swam my damnedest.

After that, I knew I would at least make it. But I was still nervous enough to lose sleep and have negative thoughts circling endlessly in my head.

The morning of the race, I woke up an extra hour early (4:30am) and lay in bed. Instead of having to bike to the start with all of my gear on my back, my husband drop me and dropped me off at the transition. I joined a long line waiting to be marked with age and race number.

The transition area was a free-for-all. Often, space is determined by race number and distance, but not this time. I was worried about finding space, but after asking and being turned down, a group of three men-- who were doing the Olympic as a relay team-- offered me space by them. They were so friendly and nice, chatting with them helped me relax. I got everything ready in my little transition area, and Erik snuck in to give me a kiss and wish me well.

Then it was time to head down to the dock for the swim start. I was in the third and final wave, so I got to wait and absorb the instructions three times. Walking down the ramp in my bare feet, among 100 women (my wave was all women), most of them wearing wetsuits

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tri-ing

Running is my forte.

Completed my first triathlon this morning, despite myself. I didn't go to bed last night til long after midnight, had trouble falling asleep, and awoke with a start a handful of times to stare at the absurdly low numbers on my bedside clock. Finally, I got up at 5:24am. I had put together most of my gear the night before, but I busied myself with gathering the sorted piles-- swimming, biking, running, afterwards.

Julie arrived, loaded everything into the car, and we were off to Blue Lake. While setting up my stuff in the transition zone (where you leave your bike and gear you'll need for each leg of the race), I was setting out my favorite running socks when I realized that I didn't have shoes. No shoes for doing the bike and the run. Wow.

Luckily we had arrived early enough that Julie zipped back to my house, grabbed my shoes, and brought them back. Since no one but participants can enter the transition zone, she was going to give them to an event volunteer who would put them with my stuff since I might be in the water by the time she got back. After she left I realized that I had set up all of my things in the wrong section, so I moved my bike, helmet, socks, sunglasses, shirt, bags, water, and everything else to the rack with the correct number range.

By that time the first wave or two of the swim had started, and while waiting in line to use the men's bathroom (the women's side was closed-- at an all-women triathlon!) I saw Julie walking up with my shoes. No doubt about it, Julie saved my ass for this event.

Moving on to the next tribulation: the shiny purple strap that comes in the race packet, with which you affix the timing chip to your ankle. I couldn't get mine to snap closed, although Sara's Ironman training buddy, John, mashed it shut for me. During the swim I could feel it coming loose, so I had to stop several times, take a deep breath, and bob in the water while making sure it was still fastened.

The swim itself was long, but not as difficult as I had feared. When I got out of the water it felt good to jog to my bike, putting nervous energy to good use. I toweled off, put on my socks, shoes and helmet, and tucked the timing chip with its strap down into my sock. The bike portion of the race was like being in a cloud-- misty rain, warm and humid. I enjoyed the ride, though, and passed quite a few people-- a big improvement from last year.

When I passed over the mat from my bike into the transition area, to prepare for the run, I didn't hear the telltale beep that lets you know your chip was registered. My chip was gone. I asked a volunteer standing in the transition zone what to do, and she said that I could still finish the race if I wanted. If I wanted! I ran off to tackle the running portion of the event.

So overall I had a great race. I enjoyed each part, I had great people cheering for me-- Fred and Shetha brought Andrew and Gabriel-- an amazing support crew with Sara, Leslie, John, Teres, and all of the other wonderful Luna Chix ladies, and I can't wait to do it again. For what it's worth, Julie said I crossed the finish line at 10:03am.