My Biggest Sports Moment--First Triathlon

My biggest sports moment took place when I ran my first sprint triathlon. I had wanted to do something special to celebrate turning 50. A couple of weeks after telling my husband, B., that I'd like to do a triathlon (at which point he looked at me like I'd been inhaling paint fumes), a letter arrived from a national organization inviting me to be in the TriUmph Classic.

Deciding to do a Triathlon

Okay, so the invite was from AARP-the American Association of Retired Persons. Yikes! I wasn't a member yet but they had been barraging me with invitations to join as my 50th birthday loomed. For a fee of $35.00, I could totally embarrass myself by entering their TriUmph Classic 50+ Swim-Bike-Run. My biggest sports moment would be a 400 meter (1/4 mile) swim followed by a 20K (12.4 mile) bike ride, ending with a 5K (3.1 mile) run in sunny St. Petersburg, Florida. I set my goal right then and there--to finish that triathlon and live.

I checked out a website to review training programs. I remember thinking, "I'm not in the best of shape right now". However, I asked my doctor if I could embark on this adventure and she approved. I forgot to mention-I didn't really know how to swim. Well, I could tread water. And since we had a pool at our house, I was accustomed to being in water. I'd have my niece teach me how to swim.

The training programs were 12 weeks long--if I started next week, I would be done just in time to do the triathlon on November 16, 2003. It would be held in St. Petersburg-a 2 hour car ride from our house.

Before I could change my mind, I wrote the check and mailed it. I printed out the Beginner Training Program from AARP's website and put dates alongside the scheduled workouts. Lo and behold, I was going to do a triathlon!

I spent the next week on preliminary preparations: gathering/purchasing proper workout clothes and gear, including a sports stopwatch to time my bike rides and runs and measuring the pool to determine how many pool lengths equal 200 yards. I got a bike tune-up and new, thinner tires. I had some training to do!

Twelve Weeks of Training

Week One arrived. Mondays and Fridays would be days off. My first training day, a Tuesday, the schedule says, "Swim 200 yards or four laps." In my pool, 200 yards equals 22 pool lengths. No big deal for me because, at the time, I was swimming 75 lengths 4 times a week.

Day Two of training, however, was a different story. It said, "Run 15 minutes, bike 15 minutes (do these as two separate daily workouts)".Now this presented a problem as I could not run very well. So, I started by walking quickly, then when I approached 2 landmarks spaced closely together, I'd get ready to jog from the first to the second. That hurt. At my age, my body doesn't want to run.

Day Three of training, a Thursday, was a breeze: walk 20 minutes. I followed the schedule religiously. At the time, I was working 2 ½ days a week, so I trained around my work schedule.

Eventually, I received a packet from AARP with manuals discussing how to prepare for the triathlon. The pamphlet, "Food as Fuel" was a great resource outlining proper nutrition before a triathlon. It helped me change my eating habits. Other manuals described needed supplies for the triathlon.

After Week Six of training, I realized I was really going to follow through. The next six weeks flew by. I was getting stronger and enjoyed the swim and bike training. The running, however, still hurt every step I took. Over the weeks, I was able to work up to jogging during the "run" segments of training.

I've never been so in touch with my own physicality. And the sweating-it seemed a switch was flipped to activate a water leakage mechanism. Continuing workouts five days out of seven (with 2 days weekly for muscle rest), I was ready for my biggest sports moment-a triathlon.

Researching Triathloning and Gathering Gear

"The Day" grew closer. I biked and swam. I read everything I could find about triathlons-blogs, the AARP Training Manual, and the book, Triathloning for Ordinary Mortals by Steven Jonas. Jonas' book sits on my bookshelf, a remnant of my biggest sports moment.

I amassed supplies. For the swim, I needed a one-piece swimsuit, goggles, and swim cap. The area that racers change clothes and equipment for each leg of the race is called the "transition area." I needed towels and a container to hold water to rinse and dry off my feet (racers had to run barefooted across a grassy area after the swim to reach the transition area to dry off, put on shoes, and get bikes for the bike portion).

Speaking of the bike race, I needed a bike, helmet, shoes and socks for it, as well as sunglasses and water bottle holder. It was recommended to carry an air pump and extra tire tube on the bike during the race. I decided to take the pump but not the tube. I figured if I had a flat, by the time I changed it, the race would be over.

Supplies needed for the run portion of the triathlon included good running shoes, socks, sunglasses, and/or a hat. I planned to slip on running shorts over my wet bathing suit before the bike ride, so I wouldn't have to do a complete clothing change between any of the race's segments.

Race Day

The day before Race Day arrived. B. and I loaded the truck with my bike and race essentials. We headed north to St. Petersburg where we had reserved a room in a downtown hotel for the night before. I insisted on taking my bike and supplies into the hotel room. Then, we found a restaurant and had dinner. Sleep was fitful. Feelings about the approaching race were intense and overwhelming.

Arising early on Race Day, breakfast was a whole wheat bagel and glass of skim milk. I dressed in my swimsuit, covered by the top and shorts I planned to wear for the bike and run legs of the race. B. and I collected our belongings, including my race gear and checked out of the hotel.

Heading off down the street, we looked for the race check-in. Here we go.
I checked in and got marked up-they wrote my assigned number, "409" in black ink marker on both my arms and my legs. A square piece of extra-durable paper read, "TriUmph Classic 409 AARP powered by potatoes". It was placed on my chest, affixed with cord around my shoulders and chest. A smaller plastic-covered version of my number, 409, was attached to my bike's handlebars. I giggled as I sang the song, "She's real fine, my 409" from the 60s. Was that the Beach Boys or Jan and Dean?

A black, plastic bracelet of sorts was wrapped around my ankle. It contained a computer chip to collect all my times for each segment of the race. So this is the Championship Timing System used in many triathlons.

Selecting my "spot" in the transition area, I set up all my gear to quickly transition from one leg of the race to the next. Plastic basin filled with water, check. Running shoes and socks laid out and ready to slip on, check. Top and shorts for the bike and run portion, check. Sunglasses and visor, check. Water bottles, check. Bike tires are properly inflated and the bike is balanced on the bar so all I have to do is grab it and go.

B. and I headed to the North Shore Pool, an Olympic-sized pool on the edge of Tampa Bay, where the swim race would be. I tentatively took my place in the line of participants. It began near the front corner of the pool and wrapped around it. Swimming rules and triathlon instructions were reviewed over the loudspeaker.

An elderly lady stood in the line behind me. She said the swim portion would be the hardest part for her. She was incredibly thin and appeared "older" for sure. She said something like, "I'm 83 years old and I can't swim very fast. I can only do the back stroke." Oh jeesh, I thought, am I about to be beat in a triathlon by an 83 year old lady? Maybe this is a bad idea after all.

As participants chatted nervously, starting time approached. Glancing toward the corner of the pool, I noticed one of the black mats that "read" the computer chips (the Championship Timing System). As racers crossed the mat, it would take note of that racer's number and starting time. Another mat sat at the opposite end where racers would step on it as they emerged from the pool after the swim, recording again the time and number of each participant.

And They're Off

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, the racing gun was shot. One by one, the waiting swimmers dropped into the pool and began the swim. The line moved steadily. I approached the starting position. The managing staff held her hand up when I reached the pool's edge, allowing space between the swimmer ahead of me and myself. Then, she said, "Okay, go." I jumped in.

Being in the pool with the other athletes was exhilarating. It was total chaos-arms flailing, water thrashing. Racers swam quickly by, splashing my face. As each one passed, I thought, please don't let this be the 83 year old lady. My biggest sports moment had begun.

Approaching the final swim lane after zigzagging the entire length of the pool, I glanced at the staff waiting at the pool's edge. When, what did I hear--more thrashing coming up from behind. It sounded like a behemoth of a person, what kind of swimmer was this moving toward me, anyway? And there she was-the 83 year old woman, passing me by as she did the backstroke. Yikes.

Just then, the staff at the edge of the pool yelled something like, "Come on, you can do it!" I picked up speed and finished. She grabbed my arm as I stepped out. When my feet touched concrete, I took off running toward the grass that separated me from the transition area. Shaking from the adrenaline rush, I snatched my swim cap from my head and shook off water as I jogged toward my bike.

Reaching my gear in the transition area, I stepped quickly into and out of the water basin, plopping down quickly to put on shoes and socks. Next, I stepped into my shorts and threw on my top over my bathing suit. After getting on sunglasses and visor, I removed my bike from the bar and took off running through the transition area. I was ready to ride.

I must say I felt great: the swim was invigorating and the next segment was a breeze. Riding my bike at high speed, weaving up and down avenues of beautiful old mansions on the water in St. Petersburg. Now that was a bike ride. At first, I took it easy, getting my breathing back under control. Then, it was go, go, go. I'm not a great swimmer, and I am sure not a fast runner. The bike leg was my best opportunity to gain time.

My husband, sisters, and brother-in-law cheered me on each time I passed by. There were many cheerleaders that day-it is apparently a routine part of triathlons. Volunteers are spaced along the routes to encourage and inspire. I grabbed water as I slowed down by the line of volunteers holding out cups spilling over. I pedaled and pedaled, repeating the designated track as required, completing 12.4 miles.

My family members yelled, "You're doing good" as I pulled in toward the transition area. When I got there, some dude near my gear sat on the ground huffing and puffing. He said, "I think it's too late to go, isn't it?" I looked at him like he was crazy. What made him think we were "late"? I uttered, "I'm going" as I jogged by him, leaving the transition area for the designated running "track." No way on earth was I stopping now, after twelve weeks of training and with just one more leg of the event to complete.

Beneath the midmorning sun, I alternated between walking fast and jogging. I approached the last lap of the designated running path through downtown St. Petersburg. My face felt hot, I was thirsty. I must have grabbed 4 or 5 cups of water as I jogged by, dropping the cups after slurping the precious, cool refreshment. My feet and legs pulsated with pain.

I rounded the last corner and saw the finish line in front of me. Volunteers and spectators clamored for the edge of the fence by the running track, urging all the triathloners to go faster. I picked up my speed, clenching my fists. I glanced up and saw B. and my sisters on the sidelines. Pushing forward, I felt the finish line banner snake across my stomach. And there it was-my biggest sports moment ever.

After the Race/My Statistics

I wasn't prepared for the rush of feelings that came next. Exhausted, happy, proud. My family waited behind the fenced area. I walked over to them. B. said, "Wow, you did it. You finished!" My sister, P. said, "You look like you're gonna cry." In fact, I was crying. I was so moved that after more than 3 months of training, I actually did it: I ran a triathlon.

In the Female Beginners Age Group 50-54, out of 32 participants, I placed 28th out of 32 overall. My stats from the race follow:

Swim Rank-32 Swim Time-21min.27sec.
Bike Rank-25 Bike Time-1hour 0min.14sec.
Run Rank-27 Run Time-46min.59sec.
Total Time-2hours 25min. 35 sec.

Total time includes time spent in the transition area preparing for each race segment.

Afterwards, B. treated me and my family to a delicious lunch at the "Dish" restaurant in downtown St. Petersburg/Tampa. I ate like a horse. Sharing the story of the 83 year old swimmer gave them a good laugh. A great time was had by all. Then, we headed for our vehicles and made the drive home. The high I felt was palpable and it lingered for six months. I'd had my biggest sports moment--I finished my first triathlon and lived.