Woke up at 5am and went downstairs to grab breakfast. Noticed right away that the weather was nasty (rain and 47 degrees) so I grabbed an extra rain jacket, put on closed toes shoes (vs the flip flops I planned on wearing) and went to eat. Had an avocado on wheat toast (a little nervously since I don’t know what to eat before a triathlon anymore) and my typical coffee. I also filled up a coffee mug with chamomile tea, for comfort, warmth and hydration.
I drove the 25 minutes to Longview Lake and found many people already there parked. The thought did occur to me, that I wouldn’t be devastated if they cancelled the triathlon due to weather (47 degrees and raining). My monkey brain also complained about doing a triathlon “in this cold weather” as my re-entry triathlon back into the sport. I ignored both thoughts.
I unloaded and quickly realized that I had overpacked. I had a huge duffel plus my backpack and it made moving with my bike a bit awkward, but I was feeling good, warm and the chamomile felt amazing on my nervous stomach.
As I was walking my bike in the drizzle I heard the music and the loudspeaker that was blaring instructions and warnings – typical in triathlon starts/finishes and my heart started pumping faster with excitement. It felt good to be back.
I racked my bike in a mostly empty rack and quickly unloaded my stuff. Many people left their stuff in trash bags because of the pouring rain, but I decided to lay it out and cover it with a trash bag. I waited and started talking to the person next to me, who was doing a Sprint tri for the first time and nervous. He said he had only done one open-water swim and had panicked. I told him it was better/different in a triathlon swim because you have others around you. There is comfort in groups. Also, kicking and elbowing, but I did not share that.
Looking back, I realize now how confident I sounded about the OWS (open water swim). People usually have issues with OWS in triathlons but not me. I dread doing practice OWS on my own because I hate not being able to see in the murky water and deslike feeling twigs and stuff hit me while I swim, but I usually don’t have issues in the swim portion. At least I didn’t until that day. But I digress.
I found out from my neighbor that they had shortened the swim portion due to the cold weather. They also bypassed the “equipment abandonment” rules and you could leave your stuff around so that people could take their jackets and hoodies (the water was 57 degrees and the air temperature was 47 degrees).
I went to take a look at the swimmers to try to read from their body language if the water was super cold. I wasn’t planning on a practice swim because my wave was the 2nd to last and I still had about 2 hours to wait. Again, in my overconfidence that, even through I had not put on my *tight* wetsuit or compressive kit in over 3 years, that it would not be a problem. Ha.
Dennis and the boys arrived and I took that time to peel off my warm clothes and get into my wetsuit (and also go to the bathroom). I knew the tightness of the wetsuit would be shocking and I wanted time to get used to it. I read the night before that you should place your wetsuit in a bath full of water before you use it if it’s been stored for a while due to shrinkage. Oops.
Dennis zipped me up and it felt…tight but ok. Not choking. The choking would come later.
After waiting for a while and marveling at the brave souls wearing no wetsuits or in Speedos (!), I pointed out the “bobbers” to Dennis (people who weren’t swimming freestyle and were either treading water or swimming breast stroke) and explained that the kayaks stay close to them because they are likely struggling. In fact, you could see two kayaks getting closer to a group of “bobbers” to offer help. I felt bad for them.
Two waves before mine I went into the water and said good bye to the family. The water felt cold, but manageable until I put my face and hands in. It was not awful but immediately froze my face. I tried blowing aggressive bubbles underwater but it was completely numb. Before I could better acclimatize my face, they called our group and we stood in position. We watched as two people from the previous group got taken off the water in rescue vessels and my alarm went up a notch. Still, I felt fine and waved at my family who was cheering me on.
Then it was time to get in and swim. The usual congestion around the start happened and I focused on avoiding getting kicked in the face. My face and hands were frozen and my chest was compressed so I could only take small breaths. I told myself to swim around the first buoy and then find a space for myself to calm down and swim without the group. The problem was that I blew my swimming matches getting to the buoy and as started breast stroke to get around it, I realized I was hyperventilating. My breaths came in quick pants and I couldn’t get it to calm down. I tried putting my face in the water and quickly took it back out to gasp in more air. I felt like the wetsuit was choking my neck, making things worse, so I reached behind me and undid the velcro at the top. That helped marginally and as I continued to breast stroke towards the other buoy I debated grabbing on to a kayak to get my breath back. For the first time in my 16 triathlons, I debated grabbing onto the kayak. The kayak guy, seeing our bobbing group, said loudly that anyone could grab on if they needed it. I did an internal check and while I couldn’t freestyle, I could certainly breast stroke and keep going, so I did. Once I curved past the other buoy, I saw my family and they gave me the strength to try freestyle again. A short while later, the blessed shore came and I lumbered to the ground. My face, hands and feet were completely frozen so I could only plod awkwardly towards transition. Two helpings of humble pie here, please.
I gave the boys a high-five and jogged slowly to my bike. Once I got there, everything slowed down. My hands felt like they were giant mitts, incapable of putting socks in my feet or tightening my bike shoes. Even buckling my helmet seemed like a particularly difficult skill to master. After what seems like eternity, I got my bike together and ran out.
My objective during the bike was to not burn all my matches. I kept repeating this when I felt like my muscles were in that in-between space of maintaining effort or really pushing it. I got passed a bunch but also passed some people and tried to be encouraging to others. I appreciated when people said “keep it up, good job!” Or other niceties, they really help! Especially those in super fancy, expensive bikes who mostly keep their breath focused on the best oxygen/effort conversion and don’t want to say encouraging things to others. I get it, I’ve been it.
The bike was very nice, went through some pretty roads and had some hills (and one monster hill) but I was able to work through them and not walk my bike (my other goal). By the time we got back, I knew my speed wasn’t setting world records but I also knew I kept some matches ready for the run. I did get massive cramps on my legs and lost feeling on both feet while riding. I really need to figure out how to get rid of that. My injury (torn hip labrum) felt tight but didn’t make me slow down, so that’s a win.
I saw the boys as I was getting in on the bike and running out and I high-fived them again. My legs had a massive case of frozen and bricked feet. I couldn’t feel my feet at all and felt like i was lugging 5 lb blocks of ice that couldn’t really bend (let alone run). I plodded along slowly and promised myself a run/walk interval once they loosened up. The run course was beautiful and I reminded myself to look up and appreciate the view as often as possible. There were almost no hills and part of it was on soft track ground, which made it an ideal course. The temperature was still low and I had consumed a Huma gel on the bike, so I felt energized and strong. I walked the two aid stations as I downed water but I kept up a constant jog most of the run.
My breathing, which is usually my enemy at this point, was relatively under control and so on I went, plodding in my ice-block feet. I saw the boys as I was on the last part of the run and they filled me with energy to finish strong. Once I curved the last corner, I saw the finish line and looked around for my boys. I stopped and waited on them to join me so we could finish the triathlon together. We ran past the finish line, holding hands with big smiles on our faces.
I had completed a Triathlon after a 4 year hiatus. Just like in any triathlon, there were challenges, unexpected situations and body parts in despair – but overall, I was proud of my pacing and performance. I was also humbled and reminded that you can’t compare yourself now with the athlete you once were.
I had downloaded an app on my iPhone to follow the triathlon times but it conked out so I only recorded part of the swim and the run. It was good that way. I like knowing how much is left to be covered in a race but there’s something to be said about focusing on yourself, your surrounding and less on the equipment.
It was wonderful to have my family there and to have my kids participate with me and cross the finish line together. They give me energy. One of them said that he had fun watching me race.
I wanted to do this triathlon to see if it would “spark joy” but that’s the wrong thing to look in triathlons. It sparked self-belief, strength, gratitude, humility, connection to my body and appreciation for my persistence and grit.
The triathlon environment is contagious, I felt excited to be around others who appreciate this sport and throw themselves at it. I don’t know what this means for the future, but I do think triathlons have a place in my life.