Entries RSSSixteen weeks and 93 swim, bike, run, weight, and yoga workouts later I finished my first Olympic distance triathlon. In typical bryn fashion, (the one where I need a goal clearly broken down into reasonable segments, on an excel spreadsheet and posted above my desk) I have been ticking workouts off the list all summer long. For once I followed my plan a little more loosely knowing that what I was learning along the way was probably more valuable than what I started with- since I didn’t know much to begin with. I added ocean swims around week 5 and Masters swim around week 10 and continued to let workouts, routes, schedules and training partners come and go as life and training merited. Eventually, through a series of ups and downs I made it to race day.
There are many people (mostly my dad and husband) who would be ashamed to hear that I almost cried at the starting line. There I was amongst the other white cappers in my heat, panicking. Full fledged don’t-talk-to-me-I-am-focusing, where the hell are the buoys and how the hell am I expected to swim all the way out there, sort of panic. It was a foggy, foggy morning and I learned that my new blue tinted goggles didn’t do much for cutting through a blanket of haze thick enough to hide to the fluorescent beach balls that were placed to signify our turn around points. Somewhere between choking back an impending sobfest and taking my goggles on and off 60 times to de-fog them, thankfully, the gun went off and put me out of my misery. I slowly worked my way into the water via the other timid back of the packers and found that as soon as my head was underwater, my nerves melted away.
There is an anonymity about being in the water that I have decided I love. Someone may see me out there, but no one knows it’s me. I can be as fast or slow as I want and nobody knows but me. No one is watching thinking- bryn, pass that guy! And not only does nobody recognize me, but I can’t tell who anyone else is either. For the entire 36 minutes I had no idea where my friends were (are they ahead of me, or behind?) or who that guy in the heat behind me was, who already caught up to me (even with a 6 minute head start!) I settled into my groove and just got to swim. My watch was hidden under the sleeve of my wetsuit so I had no idea if it had taken me 30 minutes or 50, but when I got to the transition zone and saw that more than half of the bikes in my lane were still there, I called it a success. Thanks to good ol’ Vic, my new masters coach, for once I actually finished comfortably in the middle. Who knew after all this time, I could swim??
I’ll spare you the post mortem on the entire race, but the short version is I went on to have a successful bike ride- declared successful due to no flat tires or other bike malfunctions and never being left alone, the last poor sap on the course like I had imagined- and I had a run that put me securely back in my place of captain of team mediocre. The race as a whole gets declared a success thanks to finishing 20 minutes faster than expected and actually having fun almost the whole time. (I’ll brush the 302nd place finish out of 320 total competitors under the rug, for those of you wondering.) And the crowd of friendly spectators was the best. One of the many great perks to racing in your own town is having all of your friends on the course either racing themselves or out to watch. (The other great perk is getting to ride your bike to the start line and not having to find a parking spot!) At the end of the race as we all parted ways and cruised out of the parking lot sweaty, wet, filthy and exhausted, I just had to ask: so what are we doing next? Three days later I have a race on the calendar, a plan in place, and a new running posse forming as we speak. But I’m not starting the plan until next week. This week, I am eating and sleeping and enjoying my success because at the end of the day, 2nd or 302nd, I get another notch in my athletic bedpost all the same.
