Rockman Sprint Triathlon 6-7-09 (Loves Park, IL)

Distances:

Swim 400 yards
Bike 20K (about 12.5 miles)
Run 5K (about 3.1 miles)

Location:

Rock Cut State Park
Loves Park, IL (just north of Rockford, IL)

Conditions:
Temps in the upper 80's
Water temps in the low 60's

My gear:

Swim: Sugoi tri-suit, Speedo goggles
Bike: 1984 Centurion Turbo with Profile Airstryke Aerobar, Armadillo anti-puncture tires, Look clipless pedals, Specialized shoes
Run: New Balance shoes

The night before the race:

The night before the race, I had a softball game. I considered it a good omen that we won 23-0. Coming home, I found the wife finishing up her packing. I had packed the night before using a checklist I created thanks to numerous posts on the web.

We packed up the wife's 2004 Toyota Corolla Sport with the bike and our bags in the trunk and our 2 year old black lab, Payton in the back seat.

The drive out to Rockford was a straight shot- about an hour in the car. We pulled into our pet-friendly hotel around 8:30.

The desk clerk was ancient, as was the equipment she was provided. The green-screen computer took up nearly half the desk, and an ashtray sitting precariously on the corner of the desk was packed with Virginia Slim butts. She ended up not charging us the additional $25 pet fee. Must have been my charm.

After seeing the front desk, I was a little apprehensive about the state of our room. My fears turned out to be unfounded, as our room was clean and outfitted with a fridge, stove, microwave, and dishwasher.

The doggie was so excited, he spent the first ten minutes doing laps at full speed around our room. We call this "going Devil Dog".

Finally, he calmed down. We ordered a pizza and settled in. I was so jazzed that I didn't fall asleep until after 11 pm.

Race Day:

My eyes snapped open up about 10 minutes before the alarm, which was set at 3:45. I took a quick shower and then donned my trisuit.

I took care to gently wake my wife. Much as I love her, she's not a morning person. I shook her gently, then stepped back to avoid her right hook.

"Time to go, honey!" I said brightly. It was just after 4:15.

We were on the road by 4:30 and at the park by 4:45. I thought this would be perfect for a 5 am check-in. However, I was unaware that the start time had moved from 7 am to 8 am.

This gave us plenty of time to take a look around the park with the dog.

Finally, the registration line opened up. I was marked on both arms and one leg with my race number. The volunteers gave me stickers with that number for my bike and my helmet. They also gave me a bib with a number on it. Here's where I hit my first snag of the day.

"How am I suposed to put this on?" I asked. "Do you have any safety pins?"

"We dont' have any safety pins. They're a safety risk. You'll need to buy a belt."

"Safety pins are a safety risk?" Interesting. Hadn't heard that one before.

"Yep. You can get a belt at that booth over there." She pointed to one of about 3 booths set up near the finish line.

Ten bucks later, I had a belt and was headed down to the transition area.

I solicited some help from a kindly gentleman. He was soft-spoken, with a tinge of a foreign accent. It sounded South African, though I couldn't be sure.

He showed me how to hang my bike from the seat, and where to put my shoes and other items for a quick change.

Once set up, I started to look around at the other triathletes. There were myriad body types, from near anorexic to near-obese. There were also a wide variety of bicycles, from top of the line $10,000 tri-bikes to cruisers that came off the line a decade before my own road bike.

A couple loudspeakers were set up near the transition area, music blaring. They were playing everything from Enya to Snoop Dogg.

I was just getting into ACDC's Back in Black when the music cut out for the first of many announcements.

"Hi Folks! Welcome to the Rockman Sprint Triathlon. Please note that the transition area will flow East to West. That means you'll enter by the porta-potties and exit by the hill. Competitors will not be allowed to leave their shoes in their bike clips, as this caused several accidents last year. Also please note, there are safety pins available at the registration desk if you need to pin your number to your shirt."

I wondered briefly if I could get a refund.

"For those watching the race, there is Starbuck's coffee over by the Pepsi truck." My wife perked up and made a beeline for the coffee. I think she might have knocked over a couple people on the way, but I couldn't be sure.

Over the next half hour, I warmed up as best I could.

Finally, it was time to get in the water.

The Swim

There were only about 60 people in the triathlon, which meant two waves of about 30 people. I was in the second wave, which started three minutes after the first.

Walking up to the water, my nerves began to take hold. I couldn't help but take notice that I was one of about 10 people NOT wearing a wetsuit. Submerging in the murky lake water, I understood why. My breath caught in my chest. The water was cold. Colder than anything I'd ever swam in.

I stayed neck-deep, trying to acclimate. The first wave was off and swimming. Looking out, I saw a number of people doing sidestrokes, backstrokes, and even doggy paddling. That boosted my condidence. I positioned myself in the back, toward the "outside" portion of the group. I didn't want to get in the rough stuff in my first ever open water swim.

When the siren went off, I hesitated a moment to let everyone else establish their lane. Then I put my face in the water and was off.

The water was murky. I couldn't see anything at all. Several times, I ran into the person in front of me. I would pop up every fifteen strokes or so to get my bearings. This slowed me down significantly, but given the situation I didn't feel I had much choice.

I was most worried about being swum over. Although I got bumped several times, I was never in much trouble. The swim seemed to pass relatively quickly. Looking up, I saw that I was in the top third of my wave, and that I had finished in front of about 10 people from the first wave. Not bad.

Running up the beach, I started preparing myself mentally for...

The Bike:

The wife told me afterward that my first transition seemed to take a long time. I didn't think so, but I wasn't exactly an objective observer.

Once I got on the bike, I ran into my first serious issue. I couldn't get up the hill. I had left my bike in too tough a gear. I had to run my bike up the hill before I could mount it and take off.

I followed the group out of the Park and onto the local roadways, which were being blocked by local police. I soon noticed that despite my cadence of 80 and that I was in my second to toughest gear in back and the big ring in front, I was being passed by a lot of people. And not just those crazy bikers.

I realized something was really wrong at about mile 6, when I got passed by a man in his late 60s. He was riding a cruiser with flat pedals. I checked my cadence against his. I was pedaling faster, and in a tough gear. There was no reason this person should be passing me. I was working hard physically. Initially, I thought I had not trained hard enough on the bike.

Later on, with about a mile to go, I realized that it may be an equipment issue. The whole ride, my front tire would squeek every time I stood up. I thought it was because I was putting too much weight on my wheel. However, coming down the last hill, after everybody but one person had passed me, I saw that something else was causing me to tank on the bike portion.

Looking down over my front tire, I saw that I was low on air. Really low. You can actually see how low if you look at the picture of me on the bike towards the top of the blog home page. My own fault for not knowing how to take care of my equipment.

When I was re-entering the park for the last quarter mile on the bike, I saw one of the elites. He was dressed and walking back to his car. He gave me a wave and a smile. Nice fella. I wanted to throw a water bottle at him. I was miserable, and knowing that someone had beaten me that bad was embarrassing.

Upon entering the park, a bunch of people started clapping. Now don't get me wrong: I love that people are trying to be supportive. But this felt more like pity clapping and cheering. I'd rather someone yell at me to get my butt in gear.

What made matters worse was knowing that I'd have to hear this all over again after the run portion. I almost quit at this point, but I figured I was about 2/3 done, so I may as well finish.

The Run:

The run was awful. I was sweating. I was dehydrated. I was in second-to-last place. I just wanted to finish. At one point, I heard an ATV. It was one of the race officials. He drove by me long enough to see my number, then he turned around and took off again.

I wonder if someone thought I might have died on the course. Why else would they send someone out to look for me? Regardless, I managed to finish up the run without TOO much walking. I was cramping after the bike ride, so I felt compelled to walk and stretch to alleviate the cramp.

Coming back into the park, I once again was greeted to the pity clapping. I acknowledged with a small wave, then put my head down and tromped on towards the finish line.

I don't know what I expected to feel when I crossed the line. A sense of accomplishment perhaps, or maybe exhileration at finishing, or exhaustion from working so hard. I didn't feel any of those things.

I was actually hacked off. It was great to finish and all, but I was boiling inside. I didn't perform even close to my expectations.

After a banana and some gatorade, I felt better. I was able to put some perspective on the event. I finished. I had an equipment problem. I have two more months before my next event. It left me feeling not satisfied, but hungry. I feel like I better get my tail back out on the road and in the pool...

Which is why I've started this blog. Every day, I'm going to update what I've done for the day, what the plans were for the day, and any notes on how I feel physically, emotionally, etc.

Any advice would be much appreciated. Actually, any comments would be much appreciated. I'll let you know how I'm doing, and please, feel free to let me know how you are doing as well.