my first triathlon…

I flew back into Philly this afternoon after a long weekend with one of my best friends who currently lives in Dallas. Eight weeks ago, we decided that I would come in to visit for the holiday and would also sign up to race in triathlon with him (at the time, it sounded like a great idea). I trained for eight tough weeks, working around my work schedule and several planned vacations. And by Saturday, I found myself less than a day away from my first triathlon and the title of triathlete.

We rested Saturday night and enjoyed some homemade pasta and “little penguin” wine (cheap wine from Walmart). We ate too much and watched Happy Feet on the Disney channel. It was one magical night. Sunday morning, we got up around 4 o’clock to get ready for the race and by 6 o’clock, the sun was rising and the race was crowded with athletes and fans.

By 7: 25, I was in the water, waiting for the horn to sound and for the race to start. The horn blew and I was off and swimming. I quickly learned that swimming with hundreds of people in open water is nothing like training in a pool by myself. I was punched in the face, kicked in the side, and practically underneath one swimmer for several strokes. After separating from the pack (meaning that I was falling behind), I was able to relax a little until I realized that I wasn’t in as good of swimming shape as I had originally thought. I struggled to finished the swim and at times, thought I wouldn’t make it and that one of the boats would have to come save me. It was rough but thankfully I finished.

I got out of the water and made my way over to my bike. I was already exhausted and had the majority of the race still left to complete. I grabbed my bike and managed to finish the bike in an acceptable timeframe. At the second transition point, I dropped off my bike and ran over to the starting line for the run. At this point, my legs were done. They were screaming for me to stop but I couldn’t. Everyone was watching and I couldn’t disappoint them. On the run, I noticed that a twelve year old boy was in front of me. “You can’t let this kid beat you,” I thought to myself. I pushed my pace and met the boy but immediately, he picked up his pace and ran away. “Losing to a young, athletic kid isn’t so bad,” I thought. I finished the run (and the race) and made my way over to my friend, Ryan. This was Ryan’s third race and he had been finished for quite some time before me so he was there waiting for me at the finish line.

Minus the threat of drowning and the momentary embarrassment of losing to a twelve year old, I actually enjoyed myself this weekend and during the race. I plan to do it again…soon. But I plan to train harder this time around and get into the pool more.