For some reason[1] I decided I should attempt a sprint triathlon this year, so with a month to prepare[2] I entered one in nearby Sylvania, OH.
If running off a beach into the water with over 100 other people, all of whom are aiming for the same point out in the middle of a lake, sounds like a good idea to you[3], if swimming like mad and then running back up the beach and then onto asphalt to your bike[4] where you stuff your sandy, wet feet into socks and shoes and then ride a long way seems like the next logical step, and then, having tightened up all the muscles in your thighs and calves[5] with a torque wrench, getting off the bike and running a race strikes you as the perfect end to a perfect morning, then a triathlon is for you. It’s the run-on sentence of endurance races[6].
My strategy was don’t drown, don’t crash, don’t cramp. I didn’t and I didn’t and I didn’t, so it was a good day[7].
[1] Reasons, plural, really: Kat did one and I was impressed by her achievement, and I also read Jef Mallet’s excellent book, which is inspirational, funny, and has a lot of footnotes.
[2] Until July, I had not swum more than 20m at a stretch in at least 20 years…and maybe a lot more years than that.
[3] It looks like a mosh pit to the spectators, and looks do not deceive. It is a can’t-see-the-bottom deep mosh pit filled with water and over-achievers.
[4] 20-year old mountain bikes are not ideal for this, but, like my body, I used what I had.
[5] In the first mile or so of the run my shins felt like they were splinting. Weird!
[6] A sprint really isn’t an endurance event. The Olympic distance (or more) is the real deal in that regard. But I was tired and hungry at the end of this one, so maybe it counts.
[7] I didn’t break any course records, nor did any of the leaders feel threatened. But I did do better than I guessed I would. I finished in the top 1/4 for the swim, which is crazy good for me and in the bottom 1/3 for the
bike portion, which is perhaps not crazy bad, but at the very least it’s pretty bad. I
averaged about 19 miles/hour, which apparently is decent on a mountain
bike, but a mountain bike is not a good road racing machine. It’s not
all about the equipment, though — I didn’t push it hard, in part out of
fear of a muscle or ligament pull (it’s been a bad summer), and in part out of not really
knowing what I was doing…emphasis on the latter. As for the run, it went pretty well. As
always, world class racers had nothing to fear, but I passed 40 people
in the course of the 5K. Of all the aspects of a triathlon, running is more my thing
than the others. No surprise there. And though I liked it, and may do it again some day, I’m ready to return to just straight-up running for the rest of the year.
