Like Riding a Bike, Part II

These were my thoughts going into my first triathlon:

• Hahahaha what am I doing with my life
• Whoever thought of this sport was clearly a cyclist
• I'm literally the slowest cyclist ever and I'm going to get passed by everyone
• I am going to be the only person with a hybrid
• I might crash my bike
• Whatever, I have nothing to lose

I had to show up the day before the triathlon to rack my bike and pick up my bib. I didn't want to, because typically I hate being around people talking about racing the day before I race. It's like all of those mid-40s women in Boston Marathon jackets at every marathon ever talking about PR this and BQ that and blah blah blah. I just want to sit in my living room and eat sweet potatoes and watch Portlandia. 

Actually, though, it was kind of nice, because the race was super beginner-friendly. The first woman I ran into was also a first-time triathlete. She had a fancy road bike. She was nervous about the swim. 

I looked around when I racked my bike and I noticed that plenty of people had hybrids. I mean, most people had road bikes or tri bikes, but there were a bunch of beginners with hybrids. It made me feel less embarrassed about my bike. 

My hybrid next to some bikes that actually make sense for racing

The bibs we got said "I tri for _______." I filled in the blank when I got home. "I tri for oh god, who knows; what the hell am I doing?"

I laughed at myself a little and put the whole thing into perspective: I couldn't even ride a bicycle a year ago. Now I'm racing 20K. Nothing else matters. Also, this is supposed to be fun. So have fun, god damn it. 

I woke up at 4:30 AM and left for the race early. This turned out to be a good call, since there was a line for parking, and then a line for someone to write all over you with a black permanent marker, and then another line to get into the transition, which closed at 6:30. I made it at 6:15. 

I stripped down to my tiny little bathing suit and left my stuff neatly arranged in the transition and then left. Then I realized I was freezing and everyone else had clothes on or a tri suit or wetsuit so I went back in and got warm-up clothes. 

The swim waves were in reverse order of age, which kind of sucked because it meant I'd have no idea where I was in the overall race, but at the same time it meant I could count "kills" Ragnar-style on the run. I warmed up for my wave and felt focused and ready to go. I lined up in front of the swim wave, which was a good call. 

Gun and then chaos. Everything I knew about swimming technique went out the window when I realized I couldn't see anything in the murky lake water with my Women's Vanquisher 2s. Do they make clear goggles for open water swimming? Is that a thing? 

I just kind of swam at a moderate pace trying not to go drastically off-course. The lady next to me kept alternating between fast freestyle and slow breaststroke. She kicked me in the face a few times. I kind of liked it. It reminded me of warm-ups before meets when I was younger, when we had 20+ people in a 25 yard lane.  

I caught up with the wave in front of me. Before I knew it, I was out of the water. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to jog the transition or if there were rules about not running or something weird, so I awkwardly shuffled into the transition area. 

What am I supposed to be doing?

I put on some clothes and socks and shoes and took my bike off the rack. Even though I knew I was still racing, I felt no real sense of urgency. Probably because I was terrified of the whole bike thing.

I ran my bike over to the bike start and took off. I remembered how to ride a bike, so that was good. My muscles burned pretty much immediately as I tried to ride hard. I'd never actually tried that before. I was pretty convinced it was going to get worse and worse as the ride went on, but in actuality, it just kind of stayed the same, and I just kept grinding. 

I passed a lot of people. I honestly didn't expect to pass anyone. They were from the waves ahead of me, but still. There were slower cyclists!

There was one sharp turn into a steep uphill. I tried to shift gears. I'd waited too long. My feet flew off the pedals. There was someone immediately in front of me and someone immediately behind me. I veered off to the side and tried to find my pedals again and not fall over. The lady behind me said "on your left!" and I was like "oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" and she almost collided with me and had to stop. I turned back and asked if she was OK and she said yes. I apologized again. Somehow, I didn't fall. 

The rest of the bike went well. That was the only hill I messed up. Most of it was gradual. It was kind of cool, actually, because they blocked off an entire bridge for us. So there were no cars, no pedestrians, just cyclists. No stoplights. I could seriously just ride as fast as I could (as long as I had something left for the run).

I can do anything!

The bike was over before I knew it. I ran my bike back to the transition and noticed that every muscle in my legs was burning. So this is why people do bike-runs.

I struggled to get my bike back on the rack (it's really heavy) and then ran off to the start of the run. Except actually I just ran in the wrong direction confused and lost about twenty seconds before finding the actual exit. Then I ran off to the start of the run.

I ran as fast as I could without dying. I decided it was probably half-marathon pace. It hurt a lot. I kind of liked that. It was a new challenge. Usually races don't hurt until the end, but this run was a mental battle from the start. Game on. 

I counted kills. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. This is going to be tough. 13, 14, 15, 16, 17. It's just the end of a half-marathon. 35, 36, 37, 38, 39. Tempo pace. 51, 52, 53, 54, 55. Haha, I'm so fast. 71, 72, 73, 74, 75. You guys are making this easy. 96, 97, 98, 99, 100. 

I stopped counting at 100, just in time for a huge hill. My first thought was "are you freaking serious," but then I just did a five minute countdown (some short surges) to break it up mentally. I flew past more people on the hill and it felt good. I saw the finish and I ran as fast as I could, which wasn't very fast, but it was fast enough to overtake some lady from my age group. And I finished my first triathlon.

This was sent to me in an automated email with the message "Dear Talia, did you smile at the finish?"

I almost started crying. Like happy-crying, the way I felt after my first marathon. I don't know why. 

I finished 24th out of 850 women, and 4th in the 25-29 age group out of 109 women. These were my times:

Swim - 10:29

T1 - 3:51

Bike - 41:19

T2 - 1:36

Run - 19:54

Total - 1:17:07.2

I don't know how far the swim was. It felt slow for me, but mostly because I was trying to not swim off in the wrong direction. My run was actually the fastest run out of anyone there, so that was cool. But really, I was most impressed with my bike, even though it was a solid nine minutes behind the winner. I'd honestly assumed it would take me over an hour.

Here are my thoughts after my first triathlon:

• That was the most fun I've ever had racing 
• Whoever thought of this sport was clearly a cyclist
• That was like a solo relay; it went by so quickly
• I understand now why people practice transitions
• I'm totally getting a road bike
• I'm going to be awesome at this when I actually train for one

I went straight to the bike shop and got the Raleigh Capri 2 I'd been eyeing. 

Farewell, Raleigh Detour. You were a great bike to learn on!