I’ve been wanting to do a triathlon for a while now. But it was just so intimidating. And just so expensive. And I was just so overwhelmed. Well, the stars aligned just right in the heavens and all the pieces kind of just fell together and I had the chance to complete my first (sprint) triathlon last week.
Let me just start off by saying that there was some skin being shown out there. There was more skin showing at that joint than at the Playboy mansion. Mind you, these people were not all Playboy bunnies. And to think that I was worried about how my little tri-suit fit me. Speaking of my tri-suit…have you ever run with a wet diaper on? Doubt it. At least not since you were about 2 years old. One word. Chafing. They should outlaw that stuff for children.
The first part of the tri was the swim. They let us start one person at a time as we swam down one lane and then swam under the rope at the end and came back down the next lane. Which meant if you wanted to pass someone, you had one lane length to do it. Well, some people might have been moving a little too slow for my preferences and I was getting tired of waiting. Sister was supposed to be on the right side of the lane if she was going slow, but she wasn’t. We got to the end of that lane, and I just cut her right on off so I could get into the next lane. No time to wait on slow people!
Next up was the 12 mile bike ride. I swear I felt like a little 8 year old girl with her pink bicycle helmet on just cruising along on her pink huffy. It didn’t help that I had a Clif bar in one hand that I was desperately clinging to because I had not eaten breakfast yet. Top it off with the fact that I really was wearing a pink bicycle helmet and yeah, I felt like a real professional cyclist out there with the rest of those people who seemingly cycle for a living. I swear, the amount of money invested in some of that equipment and clothing is more than my annual salary!
The part I was most worried about was the run, and rightly so. Running three miles isn’t that big of a deal, but running three miles after swimming and biking, now that’s a different story. About a mile in, I had a sloshy shoe from the sweet little kids spraying us with water guns on our run, a sloshy bottom from the padded tri shorts, and a sloshy belly from Clif bar and water being jostled in the heat. I felt a fire down in the pit of my stomach and I was pretty sure it wasn’t the Holy Ghost.
The most traumatizing part of the whole deal was the fact that they had your age written on your calf and the position you started in the race written down your arm. My age was marked as 29 and I started in position 158. So, while I was on the bike ride and I was getting passed by multiple people, I was able to see that the person that just passed me was an 86 year old woman. Yay. Not any better was the fact that I got passed at the end of the run by number 218, who was 44 years old. So she started 60 people behind me and she was 15 years older than me…and she kicked my rear. This was no Max Lucado, Grace for the Moment experience. It was more like discouragement for every moment because you are young and getting your tail kicked by old people. Such is life.
Warming up in the pool.