Last summer, I entered a triathlon with a friend whom I'll call Nikki, because that's her name. (I'm telling you this now because it's time to start training again. Actually, it's past time for most serious competitors, but right on time for me.) I had completed a few triathlons before, and I managed to convince Nikki that it would be "fun" to do one together. She went along with it, probably because she was restricting her calories at that time to the point that she could either stand up, or think, but not at the same time, and I asked her when she was standing up.
I think everyone should complete a triathlon, at least once, and not because you might someday suddenly need to posses the skills of swimming, biking, and running to get away from a natural disaster, although that could happen. For instance, say a huge wave wipes out your place of work, and you want to get home to your kids or spouse or cats or fine imported chocolate, so you have to swim to the bike shop, where the bikes happen to be stored on the roof, and you swim, dragging the bike (this is not a part of a standard triathlon) and you get to a dry road, and you ride the bike towards home, but then there's quicksand or maybe just gravel, so you have to get off the bike and run, and then you can get home and rescue everybody, but you're too tired, so you eat the chocolate instead. Although triathlon skills would certainly come in handy in that scenario, the best reason for competing is that once you've completed a triathlon you feel like you can do anything - except, in my case, parallel park.
Training
It's very important to train for a triathlon. At least 4 months before your planned triathlon, you'll want to consult plenty of web sites, books, magazines, professional athletes, and your dentist to get complete training plans. Once you've chosen your plan (which may take another month, but you still have 3 months left, right?), you can ignore it at your own pace. Nikki and I did this, and checked in with each other nearly every day: "Yesterday I was supposed to run 40 minutes and bike 60. I walked as far as the garage and pumped up the tires on my bike, but then I noticed it was raining. Do you think I can count that?" I was all set to continue with my "modified" training plan until Nikki casually mentioned that she swam competitively in high school, and that her trainer had her running hour long intervals at an 11% incline, and that her husband had surprised her with an $8,000 bike, which could fly. At this point I ramped up my training efforts a bit. (Okay, the bike couldn't really fly, it just seemed like it when we rode together and she disappeared in the distance ahead of me.)
Some things I learned during training:
The day after your first bike ride, you begin to question the wisdom of going 10 miles the first time out after 10 years off of a bike. You begin to question the wisdom of having stairs in your house. You begin to question whether walking is really a necessity, or if you can get someone else to bring you donuts and coffee. The first swim you try, you wonder why the lifeguard is not swimming along side you as you thrash along with all the grace of a water buffalo. You manage to make it about 1/8 mile, which is half the triathlon distance. You check your time and calculate that in the actual triathlon, the only way you'll finish in under a week is if dolphins swim up and tow you to shore.
The run should be easy. You've run before, right? And you only have to go 3 miles. No problem. Until the first time you try to run that 3 miles after your 10-mile bike ride (which took far longer than you are willing to admit.) You discover the true meaning of the term "jelly legs."
The Actual Event
Because Nikki had never been in a triathlon, she exhibited some interesting "newbie" behaviors. As race day approached, she asked more and more frequently, "Why did I let you talk me into this?" The day before the race, when she found out just how early she'd have to get up, she said some things that I am sure she didn't really mean. The actual day of the race, she appeared to be in a state of mild panic (that was kind of fun to watch.) Once the bikes were racked up on the PVC pipes provided (don't lean on these, they might fall over and take a lot of bikes with them. Don't ask me how I know this), the towels and shoes laid out, there was nothing left to do but visit the porta potty or stare out at the cold, cold lake we would be plunging into.
The Swim
We approached the water, waiting for the starting gun. We were certain that someone must have made a mistake - the buoys we were supposed to swim around were very, very far away. At some point, we realized we really would have to swim That Far. We put on our attractive rubber swim caps, waded into the water and swam off, surrounded by other triathletes, looking like a school of extremely large and bumpy fish, or perhaps frightened tuna. After the crowd thinned out (because everyone had passed me) I was able to swim without fear of a kick to the teeth, and was at my leisure to drink as much lake water as possible. Nikki got out in front quickly, but amazingly enough, was not far ahead of me when we finished the swim. Turns out, she swam with such concentration that she never looked up to see that she was swimming away from the course. Thank goodness for the helpful volunteers in canoes: "Hey! HEY! You're going the wrong way!"
The Bike
Once we dragged ourselves out of the water, we quickly ran barefoot over sharp gravel to the bikes. Throwing modesty to the winds, we changed some of our clothes and got ready to ride, with cold lake water dripping down our legs and some serious chafing in our future. There is nothing like a wet spandex wedgie to make you want to hop on a bicycle!
We pedaled away, Nikki (surprise, surprise) taking the lead. Things were going pretty well as we rode along, until some woman yelled at Nikki. I couldn't hear what she said, but at that moment, my sole purpose in life was to BEAT THAT WOMAN TO THE FINISH. Turns out that Nikki felt similarly motivated. This ensured a brisk ride during which I apparently used most, if not all, of my energy stores, because when it was time to run I was, mysteriously, tired.
The Run
After the ride, we threw our bikes on the racks and took off running. Okay, I can't really call what I did running. It was more of a zombie-like shamble. Plus, I had to pee, but I knew that by the time I struggled out of, and back into, my lake water- and sweat-dampened clothes, the race would be long over. As I slogged along the (mercifully short) run course, wondering how they managed to make it uphill both ways, I reflected that although I was moving slow, I was at least moving in the right direction (no slam intended there, Nikki. Ha Ha!) Nikki was waiting for me when I crossed the finish line (of course she got there first! Haven't you been paying attention?)
The Finish
I was so happy to be done that I wanted to jump around with excitement, but found that I wasn't actually leaving the ground, so it was more like I was bending my knees with excitement. The best part, aside from the fact that we both beat our goal time, was that we both beat Yelling Woman on Bike. And we're going to do it again! And I can parallel park a bicycle.
