Today I went out for an easy run. It was on the schedule as an easy chill run anyway, but I took it extra slow, running near 11-minute miles and being really careful on the hills in particular. I stopped a couple of times to stretch also.
I felt the muscle pull but it didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel like it was slowing me down. A few times there were periods where I didn’t feel it at all.
Afterward, I felt it probably more than I had during the run itself. So I don’t think it’s completely better, and I’m not sure what will happen when I get back on the bike. But for now I’m glad to have been able to get out for a quick run at least, and get a green compliance day on TP. I’m trying not to be overconfident about it, but I’m very eager to put those red non-compliance days far behind me soon.
I finished my first sprint distance triathlon! Getting here was the culmination of 10 weeks of training, with a focus on changing my eating habits and trying to lose weight. It was a milestone I worked hard on, and I was proud to achieve it.
It took the week beforehand off almost entirely, doing only an easy swim where I tried out a couple of techniques I had seen online. Other than that, I didn’t exercise at all. I knew I was really stretching the definition of “taper” but considering my recent calf injury, which had only just begun to feel normal again, I thought it was best to go the route of complete recovery. Certainly nothing I did in the week beforehand would make much a difference fitness-wise; it was up to the 10 weeks prior to see if that was up to snuff or not.
I spent the day before the race in something of a haze of nerves and intermittent preparation. I ended up taking two separate naps by accident, and it took me probably 4-6 hours to actually get my kits together. Mentally, I was in a fog. Eventually I did manage to get things laid out, though, and then packed them up into two reusable grocery store shopping bags, for T1 and T2.
On the left we’ve got tri suit, race-provided swim cap, sunscreen, goggles and earplugs, and race manual. In the middle is T1 – spare bike bottle, helmet, gloves, numbers, bike shoes and socks, 2 towels and large water bottle. T2 has running shoes, an energy snack, another large water bottle and a towel.
The race was about an hour from my house, so the wife and I were up early to get there. I had my usual breakfast of oatmeal, and hydrated on the drive. The weather was perfect, so I was glad to see that wasn’t a factor I’d have to contend with.
The logistics of transition setup had me more nervous than almost anything else. The two transitions were in two different spots, as opposed to being in one location, and I didn’t really know how most people would be traveling from one to the other. Everything seemed roped off, so parking at T2 didn’t seem to be an option. Parking at T1 wasn’t an option either, for that matter; we had to park at a 3rd location and then walk (or ride) to the Ts. So we ended up walking pretty far, carrying my shopping bags, which almost immediately demonstrated how poorly chosen they were. Why it didn’t occur to me to use a backpack, or at least a duffel with a shoulder strap, I have no idea. The fog was pretty thick the day before, I guess.
I got my stuff set up at T2, then headed to the beach for T1. After being handed my bike stake, I asked someone why people were leaving their bib numbers at T2 – because the race manual said you had to wear it on the bike. Did they get two numbers somehow, did I miss something? No, they said, they’re just not following the rules. Cool. At least I knew I wasn’t screwing something up.
T1 setup
I got my T1 spot set up, then headed to the overlook just above the beach to check out the swim course. It looked to be a long way, standing on shore. It was hard to tell how it measured up to the training I had been doing. Only one way to find out, though.
Swim course
Due to how the timing mats worked, they had us all line up in a crowded mass on a pathway before entering the beach area, and once we were there, we weren’t allowed to leave. Due to the low water level, it was going to be a water start, so everyone waded out to a first set of buoys to await the start signal.
Getting set for the start
The start was in two waves, with the men going first and the women and teams going second. I positioned myself to the outside and toward the back of the pack, thinking that would be safest and easiest to manage. I had never swum in a pack before so I had no idea what it was going to be like. I was just hoping I wouldn’t get panicky.
First wave start
The signal sounded and we were off. I took a few steps, plunged in, and almost immediately it was chaos. People were thrashing and kicking all around me. I got kicked and whacked several times right from the start. Because it mostly happened underwater, it didn’t really hurt, but it was always unexpected and somewhat disorienting. It was hard to find a route forward that wasn’t full of arms and legs. The pack didn’t really thin out until we had rounded the second corner and were on the way back toward the beach, so I probably only had about 40% of the course when I could really swim comfortably and try to find my own pace. The rest of the time was spent primarily fighting my way through and trying to navigate. The water was terrible, too – almost uncomfortably warm, full of weeds and smelling like boat fuel. Not the most pleasant environment to swim in.
I ended up working pretty hard on the swim. By my watch, I was out of the water in about 10 minutes, not including the run up the beach, which was 3-5 minutes faster than I expected. I think I swam a lot faster than I had trained.
Out of the water (on the far right)
It was over soon enough, though, and I was back on the beach, heading up for T1. As I ran up the hill, I discovered that one of my earplugs had suction-locked into my ear, and I couldn’t for the life of me get it out. There was nothing I could do but leave it in and do the rest of the race with one ear plugged. I hoped it wouldn’t affect my balance.
Drying my feet and getting ready for the bike
I dried my feet and got my biking gear on, then jogged my bike out to the mount line and headed out on the bike course. I wasn’t really paying much attention to the transition times, since this was my first triathlon. I primarily wanted to get through them successfully, so I didn’t mind taking a little extra time. As it turned out, I took a lot of extra time and had some of the slowest transitions of the entire field.
Heading out on the bike
Cycling is definitely my strongest discipline, and the course was pretty flat, so I was eager to put down a good time. I realized right away that the effort I’d put out on the swim was definitely too much, because I was eating people up left and right in the first mile. That meant I could have swum a bit slower and made up time on the bike. Lesson learned.
As I rounded a corner to head up one of the only hills, passing another cyclist on my right, I learned another hard lesson – never forget to check your tire pressure. Like, with a gauge. And a pump. My tire seemed to roll out from under me and go soft, and I was sure I’d blown a flat. I stopped at the top of the hill and got off my bike to check. My rear tire was soft, but it wasn’t flat. It was rideable, and I wasn’t about to take the time to pump air into it with my little hand pump. I decided to keep riding as far as I could. If it went flat on the course, so be it. For the time being, it was low but usable.
The low tire definitely slowed me down. I couldn’t corner very well, for fear of losing stability, and whenever I tried to stand and power over small rises, the back end of the bike went all wobbly. It didn’t feel safe at all. I kept it conservative when maneuvering and put as much power in as I could when the road was straight. That got me to the end of the course with an average of about 19 mph.
Coming back in to T2
I found my transition spot easily enough and put my bike down. I basically ignored everything else there except for my running shoes. I carried one of my bike bottles with me for a short distance to douse myself with before tossing it to my wife, who was there cheering me on, then bricked on out to do the run.
The legs felt dead and weird for the first mile, as expected, but my pace was good and my calf felt great. I felt the exertion in my lungs but I still had legs, so I pushed it pretty much as hard as I had left. The course wound through some residential areas and back along the lakeside, finishing up along a bike path.
I came into the finish with an overall time of 01:21:34. I didn’t have a fixed goal to shoot for going into this; I was aiming just for completion. But under 1:30:00 seemed to be fairly respectable, and I was placed somewhere in the middle of the field, both in my age group and overall. The distances for the race were allegedly 500m in the water, 12 miles on the bike and 3 miles on the road (but I’m not sure I trust their measurements, either, particularly for the run).
I say somewhere because the timing for this event was completely messed up and none of the splits ended up being reliable. The only time I trust from the official results is the overall. When I got home, I checked the results and saw one set of split times and placing; the next day, they had completely changed. Neither of them made any sense, either, and didn’t align anywhere close to what I had on my devices during the race.
Luckily, the times didn’t matter all that much to me. This one was about learning how to do a triathlon, completing it and having a foundation for the next one. In terms of those goals, it was a complete success.
The biggest racing takeaway I got was that I don’t need to go that hard on the swim. I’m not such a good swimmer that it will make much difference, except to tire me out. Meanwhile, I’m much better at biking so I can easily make up the time on wheels. Logistically, the biggest lesson was to pare down my transition gear, to put it in a backpack and to not take so much stuff! I brought two giant water bottles I never even touched during the race, and I had way too many towels. I also didn’t need any food for such a relatively short race.
I didn’t walk away with any medals, but I got a cool training shirt, some free food and a whole bunch of knowledge. It was a good day.
I have no data or elevation to show for this run, because my Fitbit Ionic failed in the middle of the run. Just straight up noped out on me.
It was about par for the course on the day.
Consistent exercise has done a lot of good for my state of mind. As someone who has clinical depression, I’ve always known that exercise is a benefit for people like me. Literally anyone who has ever had an interest in my well-being has heckled me about it. Particularly my mother. And I’ve always known they aren’t wrong. Doing anything about it is always a different story, though.
Still, some days are more than the benefits of exercise (and medication) can surmount. At the end of the day, neither fixes the problem.
A good run in the woods never hurts, though. I get some of the garbage out, and the problem sometimes seems a little smaller.
As I ran past a river, half-lost and in grass and weeds up to my thighs, I spotted a doe. She stared at me as I ran by, silent and wary, unmoving. I watched her as she watched me, until neither of us could turn our heads any further.
A key component of triathlon training is doing combination workouts, or “bricks” as they are called in the sport. These are training sessions where you essentially simulate one or more transitions, doing a ride and then immediately going for a run, for example, just as you would in an event.
This was my first attempt at doing such a thing. I really wasn’t sure how it would go, since I’d never done it before, so I decided to keep both the bike and the run relatively easy. I’d shoot for around 10-12 miles on the bike and about 2.5 miles on the run, as flat as I could manage from my house.
I felt really good on the bike, putting down the miles with relative ease and moving fairly comfortably. Things took a turn when I was close to the end, though. I came to an intersection in the middle of a hill and had to stop for traffic. Then as I started up again, preparing to tackle the rest of the hill ahead of me, my chain snapped.
Like, literally just broke in two.
I heard a snap, my legs started freewheeling and I looked down to see it just dangling off my chain ring.
I was only a mile from home, so a rescue mission didn’t take long to reach me. It was frustrating, though, and dropped me out of the zone hard. I hurriedly changed into my running gear (no tri suit yet) and headed out on my run, eager to regain the momentum I had had going before the mechanical failure.
My legs felt awful. I had never experienced anything like it. I’ve been tired on a run plenty of times, and having finished two marathons in the past, I know what it’s like to feel nearly 100% fatigue in your legs. But this was different. This was like my legs belonged to someone else and I was controlling them remotely, or something. It was really weird. They felt almost numb, even though I could feel them. It was clear very quickly why people practice this sort of thing.
After about a mile, the weirdness started to clear up and I felt more like myself again. I crested a hill and started down the other side, when a car appeared heading toward me. I moved to the side of the gravel road, into the shoulder. And felt a twinge in my calf. Different than a cramp, it was like a very specific section of my calf contracted as hard as it could.
I should have stopped immediately to stretch and rest, but I was determined to see this through and was locked into a mental race mode. The leg hurt for the rest of the run but I finished it out and limped up my driveway.
I wasn’t sure how that was going to play out, but it didn’t look or feel good.
