Survived my first experience in a triathlon. Whoo hoo!

First of all, whose bright f*&^%$* idea is it to have a triathlon that starts early in the morning? I know they wanted to get it over with before it got too hot outside, but seriously. "Body marking" (which is where they write your race number, age group, relay info, next of kin, etc. on you in many conspicuous places with a permanent marker that really WON'T come off--I've been scrubbing since yesterday) started at 6 a.m. But the race takes place north of Memphis, so my brother-in-law and I had to leave the house at 5 to get there. Add in needing to load his bike, my sister-in-law's bike, and their friend's bike into the truck and walk the dog, and I had to get up at 4:30. Not the time of day I really feel like being particularly athletic.

Then there was a lot of milling around, getting everyone's stuff organized just so. The way a triathlon works, the people swim first, then come into what they call the "transition area". Everyone has a space in a bike rack, and they all lay their biking and running gear out for a quick change. So they run into the transition area, change as fast as possible into biking gear, and run down to the end of the transition area to get on their bikes and ride. After the ride, they hop off the bikes, find their racks again, rack their bikes, change quickly if needed into running apparel, and run off. Sounds easy. Until you realize that there are 1700 competitors in the triathlon. Who knew there were that many stupid people in the area? Heck, they weren't ever FROM the area. People travel from all over to do this tri. There were people from Alaska, for crying out loud. The upshot of all this is, there were buttloads of people everywhere, all trying to organize their stuff. I didn't have to worry too much about it, since I was the first leg of the relay. As long as I knew where our rack was, I was fine. All I had to do after the swim was run in, take off the microchip strapped to my leg (made me feel like I was in home detention, or something) and strap it to my sister-in-law. Then I was free and clear for the rest of the race to just watch.

Anyway, after a meeting of relay competitors, they started lining us up to race. The pros (yes, there are people stupidly talented enough to make some money off of this torture) went first, spaced every ten seconds. It is a time trial, so even if you pass people and finish first, someone else behind you may have gone faster than you. Then they had the relay swimmers wade into the water. It wasn't cold enough to warrant a wetsuit, although many people wore them (76 isn't bad; I've been in colder pools before, and many colder rivers), but it was chilly at 7:45 in the morning as we stood there and waited for the start. They call it a "wave" start, ostensibly because we all start at the same time. But I like to think of it as more of a "survival of the fittest" start. People were elbowing, swimming over top of other people, cutting people off, all kinds of craziness. Luckily I had my water polo instincts kick in. When I felt someone's fingers around my ankles, I kicked harder. When someone moved up next to me, I flared my stroke wider so they couldn't get too close to me. Lots of fun. After the first leg of the swim (we swam in a weird triangle shape in this big lake) everyone settled into their rhythm and there wasn't much jockeying for position. Except for the idiot who kept trying to pass me. He'd run me over and then swim breaststroke in front of me so he could make sure he was still swimming in a straight line. Then I'd run him over, but he was a little faster than me so eventually we'd do the whole thing again. He finished right in front of me, so he never gained any real ground on me. It probably would have been easier for both of us if he'd have stayed right behind until we got to the end, and then passed me at the finish. Dork.

The worst part of the whole thing was having to run (we've already established how I feel about running) from the water's edge about 50 yards to where my sister-in-law's bike was racked. I'm red-faced, with goggle marks around my eyes, I'm covered with algae (the water was pretty gross and slimy, and I spent a lot of time rinsing out my swimsuit later in the day), and I'm having to jog my jiggly, flabby self in a swimsuit past a bunch of screaming spectators, teammates, and volunteers, and A PHOTOGRAPHER. I swear to God, if he took my picture, I'll kill him and his family. The nightmare as a teenager where I showed up to school naked was not nearly as horrible as this.

There were some amenities. Lots of food for competitors, free beer, a cool t-shirt, a swag bag, stuff like that. And I'm amazed at how many people where there whom I knew. Kids from swim team, coaches of other teams, teachers I work with, all kinds of folks. I just hope they don't expect to see me every year.

Although, next May, if I lose all the weight I'm trying to lose, I'm buying a two-piece racing suit and jogging past that f*&^%$# photographer again...