Nanticoke Triathlon: Race Recap

I was worried about this race for a lot of reasons.  First, I didn't feel like I was trained as much as I should have been.  Second, the weather was going to be chilly.  Third, the water was going to be COLD.  But I figured if I could make it through the Osprey with zero training, this would have to be easier...right???

The day started well enough.  I stayed at Colleen's house.  Jen and Scott met us in the morning.  Colleen rode with me so I would have company and Keith jumped in with Jen and Scott.  Colleen and I chatted nervously as we drove the hour to get to Nanticoke.  This was Colleen and Jen's first triathlon.  They actually were looking at ME as the expert since I've done one before.  HAHA.  Now that's a joke.  I was as nervous as they were...probably more because I sort of knew what I was getting myself into.

We got there early enough that there was plenty of room in the transition area for us to set up our stuff together.  Here we are setting up.  For those of you who don't know Jen and Colleen, Jen is in the black jacket and Colleen is in the yellow.  I'm the goof in the pink for those who don't know me.

Scott is a police officer and he brought some yellow crime scene tape which was a genius idea to help us find our spot in transition.  They tell me that every second counts in transition and you don't want to be searching for your spot.  Of course my transitions are so slow that I don't have to worry about seconds!

After getting set up, we wandered down to the body marking area.  I have to say that I love this part of a triathlon.  Something about having a stranger write a number on my arm and leg makes me feel like a total bad ass. 

We lucked out and the sun was out.  That helped the air temperature get slightly warmer than they had predicted.  However, the water temperature was every bit as cold as they had predicted.  After getting marked up, we walked down to check out the area to swim.  I found this picture ironic.  You can see the bouys set up for our swim in the distance, but in the foreground there is a warning sign posting No Swimming.  What?!?!

I should have heeded the warning.

As we got into our wetsuits and made our way down to the swim start, I kept saying in my mind that it's going to be OK.  I will just get through the swim and focus on my strengths - the bike and run.  We made our way into the water and it was shockingly cold.  I tried to bob up and down to get my body used to the temperature.  The race director made an announcement that there was a small craft advisory so please be careful, then the air horn blew and we were off.  Wait...what? Small craft advisory? 

I hate the start of the swim.  I need a little bit of time to get comfortable in the water and the beginning of the race is never good for that.  So I let the masses of people go ahead of me and tried to stay out of people's way.  I was breathing hard after just a couple of strokes.  I quickly realized that the strokes I had taken were basically just fighting the current...and supposedly the jetty was protecting us from the current!  Oh lord, this is going to be tough.  The thought of "I should have trained more" went through my head.

The swim course was set up to swim next to the jetty out, clockwise around the buoys then heading back in next to the jetty.  There were about 100 yards of swimming beyond the jetty where we were warned of strong current and high waves.  I was terrified.  About halfway out, I started to panic.  I was already exhausted from fighting the current, couldn't feel my feet and had swallowed a ton of the briny water.  I saw several people heading to the surfboards and kayaks to ask for help and being rescued by the jet ski.  I thought of joining them.

It felt like I was not going anywhere.  All thoughts of getting a good time went out of my head and my sole focus was just on surviving this nightmare of a swim.  I thought the Osprey swim was hard, but this was a thousand times harder.  Finally I made it to the end of the jetty.  Now it was going to get scary.  Immediately I felt the current increase in strength and the waves were crashing all around me.  I felt like I couldn't get away from the water.  I was in a high state of panic and doing everything I could to try to keep it somewhat under control.

We had to swim around the buoys, but the current was dragging the buoys as far as their ropes would allow them to go so I think we actually went farther than intended.  I was in a group of about 5 women and we all tried to work together to encourage each other to get around the buoys.  Once we finally got around them, we broke apart again to work on our individual efforts.  Finally I made it back to where the jetty held off the worst of the current.  I have never been so physically exhausted, and I was only slightly more than halfway done with this torture.  But I could look at the shoreline, see the crowd and see the path where I get to get out of this hell.  I have a singular mission...get to that path.

At this point, I'm no longer swimming really.  I was doing whatever I could to move my body closer to that path.  My legs were the only thing that had any energy left in them, so I used them and kicked with everything I had.  I just used my arms to stay afloat and pointed in the right direction.  I sort of did a freestyle-ish movement with my arms but they were useless.  I looked behind me and saw that I was very close to being the last one....there were maybe 5 or 6 women behind me.  I didn't care.

The surfers and the kayakers all asked me if I was OK as I went by them.  I nodded yes, even though I wasn't OK.  As I passed each one, I thought seriously about asking for help.  But then I looked back at the path and realized that I couldn't give up.  I will finish this damn thing even if I'm the last one out of the water!

Finally I got past the buoy that indicates that I can stand up and walk out of the water.  I didn't even care that the bottom of the river was about an inch of gushy stuff before becoming sandier as it got more shallow.  I had done it.  I finished the swim!  Thank God!

I jogged into the transition area knowing that I was physically exhausted and wondering how I would ever be able to bike or run after that.  But I just took one thing at a time.  Get out of the wetsuit.  Done.  Dry off feet and put socks on, then cycling shoes.  Done.  Put on helmet and jacket.  Done.  Get bike off rack and get out of transition.  Done.  Mount the bike and ride.

Now I've had some good success on the bike so far this year.  On a flat course, I fully expected to ride in the range of 20 MPH, especially since it was only 15 miles.  I rode out of the park and onto the main road and again was reminded that I had expended all of my energy in the water.  My legs just simply had no power.  And then there was the headwind.  Well, I reasoned, at least there will be a tailwind on the way back in.  But no, the eastern shore did it again...a headwind on the way out and on the way back in.

I could not get the bike to go faster than 18 MPH.  Occasionally I hit 19 when the trees were blocking the wind, but most of the time I was going 15 or 16 MPH.  But I focused on what John had taught me - keep spinning at 90 RPM and save your legs.  I was consistently passing people on the bike, which was a big confidence booster.  I must have passed about 10-12 people and no one passed me.  No longer at the very back of the pack, I started to forget about the harrowing swim.

As I rode into transition, I decided to enjoy the rest of my day regardless of what happened.  I cheered for the runners who were running out of the park as I rode in.  I saw Gail, a friend from OC, and cheered for her by name.  Those who I didn't know, I gave a generic cheer.  I went into transition, racked my bike, changed my shoes and felt overall good about my transition time.  I jogged out of transition with a nice lady wearing what looked like a team cycling jersey.  I ran next to her for a moment and gave her a "good job". We chatted briefly about how bad the winds were and how thankfully the weather had turned nice for the run.  I told her to stay strong and settled into my comfortable running pace.

I had wanted to run a 9 minute per mile pace for the run.  However, after everything I had gone through up to that point, I knew that wasn't sustainable.  So I changed it to a 10 minute pace.  As long as I kept somewhere near a 10 minute mile, I'd be happy with the run portion. 

One of the reasons I love running so much is that you have time to look around, chat with fellow runners, thank the volunteers and wave to the spectators.  So I made sure that I enjoyed every bit of that.  I got passed by one lady on the run and I passed several runners.  But at this point in the race I was just enjoying the day.  After the turn around, I again saw the lady with the team cycling jersey.  We high-fived and I told her good job.  I also saw Jen for the first time and gave her a high five too.  I told her "you can do it"! 

Coming back into the park was a very pretty part of the run.  I enjoyed it all.  I had nothing left in the tank to do a finish line sprint so I just kept running at my pace.  It was all I had.

But I crossed the finish line knowing that I had accomplished something.  I kept going when many didn't or couldn't.  I survived.  My time doesn't matter.  My place doesn't matter.  Even when I was so physically exhausted that I didn't think I could continue, I did.  And I finished.  In the end, that's all that matters.

Here we are after the race, all smiles because we're done.  Oh, and Colleen was totally bit by the triathlon bug.  She has already signed up for another one!  The jury is still out on Jen.  She had an experience similar to mine, except worse because the current dragged her onto the wrong side of the jetty.  She stated "I will NEVER do this again" but an hour later she was asking me about the Rocky Gap Triathlon.  We'll see about her!