I’m a goddess now. I know, you are all “Rebecca, you are a goddess all the time!” And this is true, but my survival of the Tri Goddess Triathlon definitely raised the goddess bar today.
I’m writing this at 5 pm on Sunday after a 2 hour power nap, which was just as much a result of the triathlon this morning as it was the celebratory prosecco at La Vita Bistro in Pinckney afterwards. The prosecco seemed like a good idea at the time, as did the spaghetti, but the endorphin crash combined with the alcohol and carbohydrate load was harsh. I’ll never get the pillow creases out of my face.
But I got my shit together now, mostly, so here we go with the much-anticipated rundown of the day.
4:30 AM: This is not morning. This is still night. Hubby shakes me awake, despite the danger to himself, and checks later to make sure I actually dragged myself out of bed.
5:00 AM: First miracle of the day – I didn’t burn my eggs. Big mug of very strong tea (daily requirement), strawberries (picked at DeGroots on Friday and my ass still hurts, thank you), and an oatmeal-craisin-chocolate-chip cookie.
5:15 AM: Partner in Crime #2 (with Partner in Crime #3 from Grand Rapids!) collects me. We had preloaded the bikes last night, thank God. Off to get Partner in Crime #1.
5:25 AM: Me – “Uh, do we need photo ID?” PICs – “Yes!” Me – “Shit.” Back to my house. Second miracle of the day – my wallet was where I thought it was.
5:35 AM – 6:15 AM: Nothing like a Jeep full of 50-something women singing “Who run this motha, who run this world” to pump you up. Beyonce is a goddess, of course, so it makes perfect sense.
6:30 AM – 7:15 AM: Unload the bikes and Partner in Crime #1’s new bike has a brake pad rubbing the rim. Oh no! Outdoor Action Company to the rescue with their booth for free bike fixes. We head to registration to get our numbers and timing chips, and enter the corral for transition. This was impressively organized, I thought, with assigned spaces according to your race number. Volunteers come around with black markers to write your race number of your arms and hands – so when they drag your lifeless carcass out of the water they know who you are, I guess. Then they write your age on the back
of your calf. We joke about what would happen if they had to record your weight there too, and what the average adjustment would be. Ten pounds lighter than reality seems to be the average.
7:15 AM: I am almost awake now. We grab our assigned neon yellow swim caps and head to the beach. Let me tell you, a beach full of 575 women of all ages, shapes, sizes and in various combinations of wetsuits, swimwear and workout gear – it be awesome!
8:00 AM: Words of wisdom from veterans – pee during the swim. We are in the 5th and final wave. The water was definitely warm (heh)…and the swim start is crazy. I need to read up on swim race strategy if I am going to do this again, that’s for sure. The worst – backstrokers. For God’s sake, girls, find another stroke that allows you to see where you are going. Good news though – the grindylows must have been busy with earlier victims. Or someone came in last night and cut all the seaweed.
8:13:53 AM: Yeah, my swim time was 13:53! And I am hitting the beach and hauling myself UPHILL TO TRANSITION, which was about a tenth of a mile away from the beach. Barefoot. Dry my feet, spray the bug spray, shoes and socks…wait, why do we say it in that order? But you know what I mean. Helmet, gloves, water, trundle bike out of the corral and to the uphill start.
8:18 or so: Yay, biking! This should be a strong event for me. But it’s my biggest disappointment and can only be partially blamed on equipment. I have a nice Scott hybrid bike that I love, love, love, and with trail tires it is perfect for tooling around roads and trails in Pinckney. And it is totally outclassed here. I sent a text to The Bike Guy afterwards: “Need faster bike.” His response: “Are you going to listen to me now?” Right. That said, ladies were biking on everything. I passed several who were so poorly fitted to their ride, I couldn’t imagine going 2 miles let alone 11. But everyone was happy and chatty and my favorite comment as I passed one goddess – “I’m glad someone else is panting!” Tell me about it.
Weird discovery: bike helmets fit differently when your hair is wet. Thought mine was going to blow back a few times.
46 minutes 14 seconds later: I should be happy with this time. I went into this thinking under 50 minutes and close to 45 would be good. Why aren’t I happy? Well, ALL the Partners in Crime beat me. And the top times were in the 30 minute range. Clearly some work to do!
OMG. That sounds like I’m going to do this again. Shoot me now.
9:00 AM-ish: Time for my favorite part of the program! Not. So, so not. The run is another uphill start, and I am not ashamed to say I walked it. Son #2 was “disappointed.” Tough titties, kiddo. I had nothing in the tank for this run, and really needed to hydrate more during the bike. I did run most of the route, but walked the tops of the hills. 19:05 – less than the 20 minute time that I told myself I would be happy with…but a bunch more than my previous runs of 15-16 minutes on this route.
And a “reversal of fortune” was very close to a reality (thank you DJS for adding to my synonyms for “puke”) at the end. The big celebration at the finish, with fruit and bagels and yogurt…God. I was gagging just thinking about it. And yet, I could eat a pint of ice cream after running a mile in 95 degree heat last week. Go figure.
PIC #1: 10th out of 25 in our age group; 60 out of 160 in the mini-sprint
PIC #2: she ran the duathlon (run-bike-run) and was 14 out of 48 in age group, 26 out 60 in the du
PIC #3: 16th out of 25 in age group, 84 out of 160 in the mini-sprint
Me: 20 out of 25 in age group, 114 out of 160 in mini-sprint
Most importantly, we met our goals. Partner in Crime #3 had the most basic of goals: don’t die. We didn’t. The rest of us had two main goals – finish it, and don’t be last. Check and check!