Scott vs (the elements, the pain, the others?...no) Scott

Good morning everyone. It's me...the geekiest of geeks. Ok, so I realize that isn't really true as I've met some really geek people in the last couple months that make me almost look normal (gasp!). No...I may be geeky, but I realize that there are others that are far geekier than I. Anyway, that doesn't really matter as it has no bearing on today's blog post. "What does?" you may ask? Well...how about this: "Scott, the Token Geek, officially started AND FINISHED a Sprint Distance Triathlon"!!! Here's the story:

I didn't sleep well the night before (actually only getting right around 3 hours of sleep which is no where near enough for me to function normally...but hey, we aren't looking for "normal" when we talk about people crazy enough to do a triathlon anyway, are we? I got up at 6 and donned my swimming trunks and a t-shirt and then gathered all my supplies for the morning (camel pack, goggles, swim cap, change of clothes, shoes and socks, bike and helmet) and loaded up the truck. I made it to Spring Meadow Lake around 7.

The morning was a nice and crisp 72, and I heard that the water was a balmy 67. Not a cloud was in the sky and there was no breeze at the start. They made a couple announcements over the PA system and then, at 8, the Olympic distance people started their race. It was mayhem. Pandemonium. Insanity. 80+ people all starting to swim at all the same time. I watched them swim for a bit and had to walk away...it was crazy. I walked around for a bit and stretched the muscle groups I was worried about (arms and legs) and talked with a couple people (while crazy, the people that generally do triathlons are REALLY friendly and encouraging).

A little before 9, I walked over to the starting area for the swim and walked out into the water. 67 degrees isn't that bad, but you have to realize that 67 degrees is the temperature of the water that is in the sun...so other parts were noticeably cooler. We all started bunching up at the starting line and then we were off promptly at 9. Wow...that first jolt of cold water was enough to make me want to turn around and go home, and add to that the fact that I (stupidly) had lined myself up too far away from the channel and had to swim OVER to it to go through it...and it wasn't that good of a start. My arms, which I used to consider quite strong, started getting tired. My back was hurting. I was trying not to hyperventilate and failing miserably...and I had only gone about 50 meters (in a 1000 meter swim, mind you). Consider the swim portion as looking like a capital "B" with the top portion being really small and the channel being where the two parts come together. The longest leg of the swim was probably about 500 meters total (and that is a LONG way when you haven't swam in years!).

I made the first corner and wouldn't you know it...my right leg's shin cramps exactly at the same time that my left leg's calf cramps. I'm 15 meters from shore and roll over on my back and just pull myself along with my arms...for the rest of the swim portion (yeah...500 meters of just arms...ouch). I had to stop and stand up at one point so that I could try and stretch out my legs...but it didn't help much. I just kept breathing and moving my arms and hoping that this would all be over soon.

I finally emerge from the water, cramped legs and all, in very last place. No worries...this was a triathlon where I was competing solely against myself anyway...nobody else existed. I walked over to my bike and put on my shoes for the bike portion of the race (a 12.4 mile, although I heard later it was 14 miles trek up a gradual incline with a murderous hill at the end that you turn around on and come all the way back). I was really hoping that my legs wouldn't give out because of the cramping, and they seemed fine. I took off at a good pace as the land was flat (and hey, who can't ride fast on flat ground!?). About 1/4 the distance (bear in mind that a nice breeze had started at this point...coming head on), you run into this hill that nobody mentioned before (that I remember) and it's bad. I actually had to get off my bike for a bit because I wanted to quit and throw up and break my bike into a million pieces all at the same time...but I didn't. I ended up getting back on the bike and kept peddling. After a slight downhill, it was all back uphill till the turnaround. I wanted to die. My legs were screaming at me (something along the lines of "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?"), my back was killing me (slowly, of course...why make it quick when you can draw out the pain and agony forever?) and I was getting dehydrated.

I ended up stopping at the top of the hill and the guy there asked if I was ok. I assured him I was, but that I needed to take a break so I didn't throw up. He offered me water and we talked for a little bit till I looked back at where I had come from and noticed that it was, indeed, almost all down hill. I smiled and, with the breeze at my back, turned my bike around and cruised down the hill. I was going faster down the hill and on the way back than I've ever ridden a bike in my life. The tires of my mountain bike (yes, I know...a road bike would have been easier) were humming a great tune by an artist whose name I can't remember right now. I turned the final corner to get back to the park and to begin the last leg of my journey...the run.

After going through hell and high water (haha...that's great!)already, I wasn't worried about the run. If nothing else, I could walk the darn thing. I took off, after dropping off my bike, and ran for about 10 feet and had to walk. I know what you're thinking (or what I was thinking at that point), "Hey...at least you ran some of it!" No, that wasn't good enough for me. The run was a 3.1 mile track through a wooded area on a path, on a road, then back on a path to the finish with 3 water stations along the way. I eventually made it to the first water station and got a drink of water. The guy there was REALLY nice and was telling me that I had already done more today than 90% of the population of the US did all of last month and that I should be proud, but not to give up. I knew I had this thing...last place and all. I took off running again (well, a jog, to be honest) and alternated walking and jogging for a while. The same guy was pulling up the road markers as I ran and he joked to me "At my first triathlon, I threw up a couple times and wanted to quit...but I finished." I said, "Well, I've wanted to quit, but haven't yet actually thrown up!" I finally made it back to the finish line.

To say that I'm happy...to say that I'm proud of my accomplishment...is an understatement. I don't know that I've ever done anything that physically demanding...where the option to quit was there the WHOLE TIME...where I could have died at any moment...where it seemed everything that existed (including myself) was against me completing that race...and yet I still...I STILL...finished it. To me...that's all that matters.

Thanks to everyone at work (BB, AA, JT, KK, LE, TL, LL, CG, MR) other people (RW, SW, DB, JS, BS, TS, MF) and everyone else that was at the race that I don't remember the names of...for the encouragement.