26th ANNUAL LOS ANGELES TRIATHLON EXPRESS SERIES #1
When the New Year came along, I decided I was sick of never fulfilling my New Year's resolution and figured out there was only one way to make it stick - put some money on it. So I convinced my cousin Ray to put some money down on our local triathlon in San Dimas just so we wouldn't back out.
After all those weeks of "training", race day finally came today. I was a little nervous, but somewhat excited to finally start what I'd been working on all these weeks. It sort of felt like making that first call to that sweetheart you'd been eying but never got a chance to really talk to.
I made my way out to Bonelli Park which is right next to Raging Waters in San Dimas. After paying $8 to park my car, I got all my race junk out of the car. First, the bike. The handle bars were already tweeked when I took it out, so I had to adjust it. I'm happy and relieved I decided to bring my tools. There was a point when I thought, oh the hell with it, there will be technical support along the race path anyway. Little did I know that would not be true at all.
I had a few towels, a change of clothing, wristband, swim goggles, sunglasses, sun block, sweats, camera (which didn't work because the stupid rechargeable batteries are not charging), bike helmet and an energy bar. I lugged all these things to the check-in area, got my race number (484) and an electronic chip that I strapped to my leg. The chip is used to automatically record my time in the transition areas and the different parts of the race.
Ray and I headed out to the bike racks and they were all filled-up by the time we go there. The last rack was left and our bikes were the last ones to get on there. One racer told us that it was actually a good place to be since you can jump on the bikes and head off to the bike track instead of having to walk the bike through the transition area.
The first thing I noticed were the buoys that were laid-out on the lake. There were three of them. The first was about 25 yards out, another one was much farther out near the middle of the lake (about 300 yards) and the last one was also 25 yards out, but about 200 yards from the first one. It looked long, a lot longer than the 200 meters the swim was supposed to be. It looked so far that I wondered if I could even drive a golf ball from the first buoy to the last one. That's when the rush of fear mixed with denial began to set in. But there was no turning back now.
The elite racers lined up and the horn sounded. Then came the wave of amateur men championship length racers came and went. Then came the championship length women racers. Finally, it was our turn. The water was cool, but 95% of the racers still had their wet suits on. I wished I had one because I knew they helped you float. Oh well. What can you do now? I wasn't about to pay $25 just to rent one. I figured I could always do the backstroke if I needed to.
After a high ten with Ray, the horn blasted and we were off. I waded into the water at the back of the pack since I knew everyone would just pass me if I led. "Put your goggles on!", someone yelled and I realized mine were still on my forehead! I slipped them on and started swimming. I felt good and after passing the first buoy, I couldn't breath! I was gasping for breath and around me I heard cries for help. "I need help!", one young boy yelled as the lifeguard on the flotation board paddled toward him. One guy didn't even say anything and just grasped on the board.
It was at that point that I flipped over to my back and started paddling. It was slow going, but at least I could breath continuously. I tried freestyling again and just couldn't do it. My legs were sinking and I couldn't even get my head in the water before I needed another breath. That's when I started to do the combat sidestroke, but that didn't help much since you still need to get your head under the water to do it properly.
As I paddled on my back, I looked to see if anyone was behind me. I noticed poor Ray hanging on one of the lifeguard's board looking exhausted. We knew that only the swim could kill us and although we were still alive, it was kicking our ass like the playground bully who picks on the smallest of geeks.
I finally got around the other buoy and made my way to the beach landing. Maybe I can finish strong with the freestyle? Uh, no. I ended up just sidestroking the rest of the way and finally got to a point where I could stand up. Finally, land, sweet land. "Good job! Way to go! You did it!", I heard as I slowly waded through the water. "Am I done yet?", I asked, hoping to get a smile.
Time on watch: 10:06
I jogged to my bike, put my helmet on, stuck a small towel in my shorts (which I lost during the race and which Ray said he saw on the ground at some point) and dried myself off with another towel I brought. I spent some time making sure I didn't have that much dirt on my feet (sand is terribly abrasive when you're running) and got my socks and sneakers on. Unlike other competitors, I didn't have bike shoes that locked onto my bike's pedals. I was going old school by borrowing my brother's mountain bike.
He told me before the race that he would ask his friends if I could borrow a real bike. I told him I didn't need that and wanted to prove a point. You don't need the best things in life to accomplish your goals. All you need is desire. You may not finish first, but at least you'll finish and prove to yourself that you can do it. That's all I wanted to really do - finish somewhat strong and finally be able to say that I competed in a triathlon.
"Walk your bike through the transition please," a volunteer with a yellow shirt said. I did so then got on my bike. I began to regret not filling up my water bottle, mistakenly believing that there would be water stations all over the place. Not here. And after gulping down some kind of energy gel that was in our goodie bag, my mouth started to feel like paste. I was thirsty and watching other bikers gulp down water made me more thirsty. I wasn't looking forward to the 11.25k ride.
I used a mountain bike whereas all the other competitors were riding road bikes. So it was no surprise to me when many of them passed me by. Even little 8-year old kids were leaving me in the dust and I was surprised how in-shape these kids were. Their parents rode along with them and encouraged them as they rode. They looked like little midget professionals with bodies that were proportioned like gymnasts or all-around athletes. My head began to consider the ethical implications but they were quickly vanquished when I started to ride up hills. I'd shift to the lower gears and the little kids or 60 year-old competitors I passed would quickly pass me again.
The bike ride was easier than I thought it would be since much of the bike path was downhill or very flat. As I turned the corner into the transition area, volunteers cheered, clapped their hands and gave words of encouragement. "You're almost there! Good job!", one said and I could only answer with, "is there a water station nearby?" She answered, "I don't know, but keep going!" My mouth was so dry at this point, my uvula stuck to the roof of my mouth and I felt like gagging.
Time on watch: 41:59
I walked my bike the transition area, racked it, then began the three mile run. I was tired already, and my breathing was shallow and labored. It started to get hot too, and after about five minutes of running, I wanted to stop and walk. But I pushed myself and started to pass people. They were probably in the longer, championship series race, but I didn't care. There's something about passing people that lifts you up.
Then came the steep hill. I dreaded running up the hill, but my road training up steep hills helped me get through it relatively easily. I was dying at this point with the sun beating down and no water in sight. But before I knew it, it was time for the turnaround and the water station. I felt like those old cartoon characters who would walk through the desert and see a mirage of an oasis or a big lake full of water. But this was real and I took the cup of water and dunked it on my head. I was heating up and needed to cool down. When I looked up, Ray was running toward me with a big smile on his face.
Although we weren't really competing with each other, I still wanted to beat him to show him that the old man's still got it. I also trained much more than him since he has a full time job while my working days are pretty scattered so I have way more time for training. Before I knew it, he was passing me by and I just couldn't keep up. But I pushed again to try to stay with him. At that point, I knew I was at my limit.
Thankfully, there was another water station and I cooled myself off again by dunking water on my head and arms. Ray and I started to walk together and it was nice to take a break. I was hoping I could just keep running without stopping, but I just didn't train enough to be able to do that. Ray told me he didn't finish the swim and had to get paddled in by the lifeguard. That made me feel a little better that I couldn't keep up, but I also felt a little bummed out that he didn't complete that leg. Still, it was more about having fun than anything, so I waved him off and told him to go as fast as he could to the finish.
I kept an easy pace and the finish line was in sight soon enough. Everyone was clapping and the announcer encouraged everyone by telling them to finish strong. "Good job, way to go, finish hard!", I would hear and I did the best I could to run a little bit faster. It wasn't noticeable, but I noticed it. There was no one to take my picture at the finish line, so I only got a chance to raise my arms half-way up.
Time on watch: 34:44
After the race, we filled ourselves up with Gatorade, bananas, oranges and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that were all prepared for us. I was a little disappointed that there weren't more people around that were hanging out. It seemed like most of the people that finished the race went straight home. We hung out for a little while, watching two older competitors finish. We gave them a round of applause and I was reminded that even at that age, you can still be a competitor.
Total time on watch: 1:26.49
Click here for my results! (I finished 94th overall)
Photos from Byron W. Moore Photography
A perfect day for my first triathlon. The bicycle transition area sits next to Bonelli Lake right next to Raging Waters in San Dimas, CA.
Competitors and spectators mill around on the lake's shoreline. The triathletes started in different waves based on distance and skill level.
Ray and I walk to the starting line. Nervousness, excitement and the feeling that you need to drop a load were just some of the emotions felt at the start of the race.
Everybody and their mother wore a wetsuit. We decided to just tough out the 200m swim.
A lifeguard looks on as the race begins. Most competitors used the freestyle. I used the backstroke without the arms.
I begin the 11.25k bicycle stage. I was one of just a few participants who used a mountain bike.
Even seniors can compete since there were several divisions to compete against.
Passing this little girl on my bike felt like an accomplishment - until she subsequently passed me going up the hill.
A competitor smiles during the 5k run. Smiling was the last thing I wanted to do when I got to this stage.
I know for a fact that I passed this little girl on my run and she pretty much describes how I felt.
Maybe someday I'll feel as strong as this guy looks.
In the meantime, this is the reality.
Many things can motivate and encourage you while you're competing. Sometimes you think, "if she can do it, I can do it."
Sometimes you think, "the journey is more important than the destination."
Sometimes your arch nemesis can motivate you.
Even inanimate objects can help you keep going.
Sometimes they're actually quite animated.
My cousin Ray looking cooler than most.
Volunteers collect the electronic chip strapped to my ankle which records all transition and stage times.
The thrill of staging your photo finish!
A perfect day for my first triathlon. The bicycle transition area sits next to Bonelli Lake right next to Raging Waters in San Dimas, CA.
Competitors and spectators mill around on the lake's shoreline. The triathletes started in different waves based on distance and skill level.
Ray and I walk to the starting line. Nervousness, excitement and the feeling that you need to drop a load were just some of the emotions felt at the start of the race.
Everybody and their mother wore a wetsuit. We decided to just tough out the 200m swim.
A lifeguard looks on as the race begins. Most competitors used the freestyle. I used the backstroke without the arms.
I begin the 11.25k bicycle stage. I was one of just a few participants who used a mountain bike.
Even seniors can compete since there were several divisions to compete against.
Passing this little girl on my bike felt like an accomplishment - until she subsequently passed me going up the hill.
A competitor smiles during the 5k run. Smiling was the last thing I wanted to do when I got to this stage.
I know for a fact that I passed this little girl on my run and she pretty much describes how I felt.
Maybe someday I'll feel as strong as this guy looks.
In the meantime, this is the reality.
Many things can motivate and encourage you while you're competing. Sometimes you think, "if she can do it, I can do it."
Sometimes you think, "the journey is more important than the destination."
Sometimes your arch nemesis can motivate you.
Even inanimate objects can help you keep going.
Sometimes they're actually quite animated.
My cousin Ray looking cooler than most.
Volunteers collect the electronic chip strapped to my ankle which records all transition and stage times.
The thrill of staging your photo finish!
