My Triathlon Experience

Let's see. My daughter was one year old and I was feeling the need to try something new. I don't remember what possessed me, but I decided to set my sights on participating in an all-woman half-triathlon sprint three months out, without having done ANY training at all. My goal was to simply complete the race.

I think I swam all of 8-10 times. I didn't bother training to run at all- I figured I'd walk the 5k part. For cycling, I just made a point of biking everywhere, daughter in tow in a little buggy attached behind me.

This event involves a half-mile, open-water swim, a 12 mile bike ride, and a 5k 'run'.  I was delighted to discover I could swim that distance, and could even do it in less than 30 minutes. I had no clue what was normal, but that suited me just fine. I think my best time- doing the breast stroke, mind you, not the crawl- was 22 minutes. Yay! My husband convinced me to ride his mountain bike the day of the race rather than mine because his was 'better'. Bad idea, but oh well. And then the walk. No biggie, right?

The night before the race, I took a pregnancy test to confirm my suspicions. I was pregnant again.

The day of the race, I crammed myself into my husband's shorty wetsuit for the first and last time (his thick, scuba shorty- not meant for racing) and headed into open water. It was so cold that I blew my old time out of the water (excuse the bad pun) and completed my half mile in 17 minutes (one does swim much faster when motivated to get warm). Great so far!

I peeled off the wetsuit, which came off easier than the fancy race suits, and took off on my husband's mountain bike, peddling like mad. Of course everyone passed me. They were all on REAL bikes. Road bikes. The funny thing was, almost all of them smiled apologetically at me as they passed. The cycling was torture. My husband's bike seat was skinnier and harder than the one on my bike, and it hurt like heck. I also objected to the experience on an aesthetic level: he'd worn the handle padding off of the handles, leaving a nasty, sticky mess, which melted into my fingers as I huffed and puffed along. Ew. Sadly, I don't think I ever got the dang bike to go over 12 miles per hour.

So I slid into the transition area as people were finishing the race completely, and I still had my 5k to walk. I tried to jog/run part of it, but it was pointless. It felt excruciatingly slow, and very boring, because there was no one to pit myself against or even chat with. By the time I had finished this "sprint", my time was about 1hour, 45 minutes, and other than my husband and a few volunteers, the parking lot was empty.

And you know what? I was ecstatic. I was thrilled. And proud. I did it. I did it even though I was out of shape, had poor equipment, used the 'wrong' swim stroke, and was pregnant. I felt unstoppable. At least until the morning sickness kicked in a couple weeks later.