At long last, after about 6 months of training and teeth-gnashing, I finally completed my first triathlon. On June 12, Scott and I did the Latta Traithlon in Charlotte, NC. It's a fairly short race, in-between "sprint" and "olympic" distance. The legs were: 1/2 mile swim, 20 mile bike, and 3.1 mile run.

    Going into the race, I was fairly confident about my running. I've run several races already this year, and 5k is a very short distance. I was less sure of my biking. I've only done three bike races before (the May-Day Biathlon three times), and I always get passed by people with much bigger thighs than me. And I was downright wary of my swimming ability. I was on a swim team 23 years ago. I quit when I became 9 and had to share a lane with the 10-year-olds. They swam over my back so often that I learned to swim 25 yards under water.

    Trying to put an optimistic spin on my deficiencies, I realized that the order of the race would keep me passing people the whole way. I expected to finish the swim in about last place. Then hopefully, my average biking skills would help me pass anyone who was as poor a biker as I am a swimmer. At the end of the bike, I anticipated running past all the other mediocre bikers with a lightfootedness that those of great thighs could only imagine. In fact, this is exactly the way the race went.

    There were almost 600 people in the race, so the swim leg started in heats. Promptly at 7:30, the "open" group led the way. These are the near-professional racers, and they churned up the water like so many speedboats. Then, at 4-minute intervals, each of the age groups followed. At 7:46, Scott and I and 40 other 30-34 year-old men wearing speedos and orange caps nervously waded into the lake. I spit into my goggles one last time, and they promply refogged. With a blast from the air-horn we too became a mass of churning arms and legs, bumping, kicking, and pushing our way towards the platform 400 meters out.

    The swim leg went surprisingly well, for a comedic flail. Any good form that I had learned at the YMCA was left at the beach as I fended off the other 40 bodies trying to swim over me. Every now and then I'd look up to see if I was still headed for that distant raft. Somehow, the raft came up quickly, and I turned around it toward the beach again. Trying to swim a straight line by spotting towards the beach was more difficult, and I kept veering off to the right. Fortunately, several kayakers were patrolling the path, so whenever I bumped into a kayak I knew I was headed the wrong way. Near the end, I passed a young girl, and it occurred to me that there were probably 40-year old men passing me too. It was impossible to know where the rest of my heat was, I could only percieve those people within a few feet of me.

    Arriving at the beach was the most exciting part of the whole race. There was a narrow corridor of grassy slope running through a crowd of yelling fans. It was one moment of glory in an otherwise solitary and quiet race. At the top of the slope was our transition area, with 600 bikes racked up side by side. I quickly found mine, stripped my cap and goggles, pulled on socks and a mesh shirt, and donned my glasses and helmet. In socked feet, I ran through the transition zone to the "mount/dismount zone" where I stepped into my bike shoes (already attached to the pedals - a trick I learned from Triathlon Magazine) and raced away from the cheering crowd.

    The bike leg was a lot of fun. It was much flatter than I'm used to, so I was able to push the pace pretty hard without getting my usual thigh burn. Each racer's age was written on their calf, so I could tell their age as I passed. I passed about 40 people, ages 14 to 58. Only four people passed me; they were all men age 35, which was the heat starting 4 minutes after me. In triathlons there are very strict rules about drafting and biking etiquette. For example, while passing, we were not allowed to spend more than 15 seconds within 20 feet of another biker. I came into confict with the etiquette once, when the rider in front of me stayed in the middle of our lane. To avoid traffic in the left lane, I passed him on the right, with the ususal yell "On your right!" As I passed, he got angry and yelled back "You're supposed to pass on the left." Immediately after, two officials on a motorcyle pulled up to me and warned "Number 427 - You passed on the right!" For the rest of the ride, I fretted that I'd incurred a penalty of one or two minutes. I'd feel really stupid if such a penalty cost me a place in the prizes. Fortunately, I was not penalized, and was not in line for prizes anyway.

    The bike ride ended in the same transition zone where it had started. I stepped out of my shoes and again ran to the racks in socked feet. I parked my bike, threw down my helmet, and slipped on my running shoes - already tied of course. The 5k run was a flat out-and-back road race directly adjacent to the bike finish. So while running, I could watch runners and bikers from all the different heats mixing it up towards the finish. I passed another 20 people, and watched their calves to see who was in my age group. I saw only two who were, so I made particular effort not to let them keep up with me. After rounding the halfway point, I saw Scott headed the other direction and gave him a high five. It was good to know that he was close behind, which spurred me to keep my pace fast. The run seemed to take a long time. I was not exhausted, but mentally ready to finish. Finally we turned towards the chute of flags, and again met a cheering crowd. In the crowd, I could see Diana, taking a picture of my finish.

    I ended up placing 6th out of 42 in my age group. For my first triathlon, I was thrilled. I was particularly happy that the whole thing felt rather easy. I was expecting to "hit the wall" somewhere in the race, or at least to feel exhausted at the end. But I didn't even puke at the finish line. My finishing time was 1:34, and I've often done 2-3 hour workouts in training. So I guess my training paid off. It gives me confidence to try longer races, such as a half-ironman. Or perhaps I should just quit while I'm ahead. There's a whole world of pain out there. I should be glad that I didn't find it ... yet.

   Gary