More Tales...
In the past, our regular readers (I wonder if there are any left) gave kudos to our
Tales From The Hood segment. For the new or casual reader (should any exist), I should note that the city in which I reside is home to both the poor and the pretentious. This cross section of Americana often lends itself to interesting observations.
Recently, a nearby family who boasts teenagers, allowed their kids to obtain a motor vehicle. I regular pass the home when walking with my family or when running with the
Black Haired Viking from up the street. I am unsure how much control the parents actually exert over their brood based upon previous observations, but suffice it to say, the lads now operate a motor vehicle, which in and of itself is a dreadful propostion. I don't know what happened to this wreck but the lads haved ceased to care for it.
Let me explain, when the car first appeared in the hood, it stood out conspicuously, as the owners never parked it in the driveway, but on the street. It didn't look bad, white paint, good shape, a few dings, but nothing noteworthy other than the fact that it was always parked on the street where they live. Early this summer, the car incurred some sort of injury, losing the driver's side window. I know this, as once I drove by on a rainy day to see the window dressed with the latest in auto fasion, courtesy of Glad; I think it was called
Le Hefty ala duc` tape. All the rage in Paris these days I'm sure.
One might think this a rather neccessary item to repair given the elements, but the lads thought otherwise, or rather gave no consideration whatsoever, for they tired of mounting the bag. Of course Mother nature obliged such behavior with an ease that probably seemed strangely reminiscent to the lads' of their usual dating circle. That said, there is only so much scorn to be endured when be taken for granted and the recent month has yielded a deluge of vindictiveness. The boys however, seem oblivious and now their white jalopy serves as a rain gauge for those to frugal to purchase one of their own. When I last checked ours--3 inches in two days. Ummm...nothing like late summer mold to make you long for the
Back To School Days at your local Box Mart.
On a happier note, the companions of the aforementioned deluge (funder & lightening) awoke my littlest at 3:30am. I thought, "this is what Dad must have felt like during his Navy years." The munchkin was scared and wanted to be held. "Hold you daddy, hold you." I was happy to oblige and did so until the brightening of the 5am rays, which beckoned me to try and salvage what little was left of those precious moments in bed.
Great night if you ask me.
Chisago Lakes Triathlon
I am now a triathlete.
I did it. I completed my first Triathlon: The 1st Annual Chisago Lakes Triathlon. I did the sprint Triathlon. A ¼ mile swim, a 20.5 mile bike, and a 3.2 mile run. They also ran a Half-Ironman (HIM) triathlon at the same time (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run).
My compatriots (Mark, Joe (a/k/a Grisby), and Julie) and I arrived shortly after 6:00 a.m. We found our location in the transition area. We had preassigned positions based on your bib number, which was nice. We racked our bikes, unloaded our stuff and headed to get marked. I girl with a black marker scrawled my number, 283, on both arms and my leg. I have been marked by these people. I am now part of their tribe. We then moved on to pick up our chips. I had read numerous stories of how people lost their chip at some point during their race. So, despite the fact that the strap appeared to be in perfect working order, I added a bit of athletic tape to secure it in place. After all, if I was going to do this, I wanted my time to be recorded.
We went back to our transition area and began to set up. I had made a careful list the night before detailing each stage and transition and the items I would need for each. I laid everything out as best I could without trying to take up too much room for those around me. I made sure everything was accessible and ready to be grabbed in the transition. Since I didn’t want any pre-race jitters to cause me to forget anything for the swim, I wrapped my goggles around my wrist and stuffed my swim cap under the leg of my shorts. The event organizer was on a bull-horn welcoming everyone. There was a lengthy line for the porta-potties. So, I decided to skip that for now.
Our little group chatted and joked as we set-up. We talked with those around us. I know it has been said before, but triathletes are some of the nicest people around. They are very pleasant and helpful. Someone had tied a pink boa to the tree next to our rack. This made it easy to remember where we were racked. As the man with the bull horn announced that the transition area would be closing, we took our last drinks and headed for the beach.
At this point, I should make note of two things: the weather and the location of the transition area. First the weather. We were in the middle of a major heat wave. The temperature was expected to exceed 100 degrees that day. As we hit the beach it was probably already close to 80. Luckily it was overcast in the early morning. I felt really sorry for those people doing the HIM. Those of us running the Sprint would be done before it got too hot. But, those HIM-ers were really in for it. In addition to the heat, they were predicting strong winds. As we left the transition area, there was already a stiff breeze. Now for the position of the transition area. It was at the top of a hill. Make a note of this, as it will play a prominent roll throughout the event.
We arrived at the beach and started to group up in our waves. Mark, Joe and I were in the sixth wave and Julie was in the Seventh. Waves one through five were all HIM-ers. We were in the first Sprint wave of the first Chisago Lakes Triathlon. How in the world did a rookie like me end up in this wave? They sent the first five waves and then waited to let those in the HIM get a head start. There we stood knee deep in the lake, which, by the way, was a lovely shade of green. In addition that stiff breeze was blowing in toward shore, making the water a bit choppy.
Our countdown commenced, the horn sounded and our wave of fifty people was off. I ran for a little bit and then dove in to start my swim. I settled in toward the back of our wave. Then, after about four or five strokes, I was hit by the first wave of water. I coughed. I sputtered. I may have swallowed a bass. I kept swimming. Then another wave hit me. This was not going to be fun. I kept going and tried to take in as little of the lake water as I could. Then I started to hear the churning behind me. That would be the seventh wave about to run me over. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I got bumped a bit. But, I made way for the faster swimmers as best I could. The turn-around marker was still a ways off. I was certain I was going to have a slow swim time. Then from behind me a lady started calling for the lifeguard. I swam on. Then another person behind me called for the lifeguard. I swam on. My swim wasn’t going as well as I had expected, the water was rough, and I was struggling, but I was not about to throw in the towel.
I made it to the turn-around marker and discovered a new problem. The wind had blown the marker toward shore, which meant that I had to try to make the turn and not get tangled in the marker’s rope. It caused me a little problem at first. But then I just grabbed the rope and threw myself over and around it as best I could in the water. I was now headed for shore. I past a lifeguard on a boogey board who asked if I needed help. Did I look like I was doing that bad? “No,” I said and kept going. The swim back was much easier going with the waves. Then I focused in on the swim finish line. Swim. Swim. The swim finish line hasn’t gotten that much closer. Back to work. I’m getting close. I see people ahead of me starting to stand up. Nope, I’m not there yet. Keep Swimming. I think I’m there. Finally, I stand up and begin to plod out of the water. That swim was harder then I was expecting.
Remember the location of the transition area? I now had to jog/walk up the winding path to get back to the transition area. Whoever decided to put the transition area up there should be beaten. I tried to move as quickly up the hill as I could. The supporters who showed up were great they cheered on everyone. Lots of clapping and encouragement. I met Mark going up the hill, which makes me feel pretty good because he didn’t beat me out of the water by that much. We comment on the difficulty of the swim as we get into the transition area. I Dry off a little. Throw on my shirt. Get into my socks and shoes. I make sure I put my helmet on before I even touch my bike. Julie comes into the transition area as Mark and I unrack our bikes and head out. Joe has already arrived and left. We jog our bikes to the mount area and head off.
We slowly start off. Volunteers cheer us on and warn us of sharp turns ahead. Finally we are up on the road. I settle into my cadence and Mark pulls ahead. I start to hear the familiar “on your left.” But then I hear a new sound. A whirring noise. Then suddenly, in a flash, I am blown away by one of the lead HIM-ers. Wow! Those people are machines. I was going at what I thought was a pretty good pace. Those people passed me like I was standing still. It was amazing. I maintain my cadence and keep riding along through the countryside. Finally, the five-mile marker. I feeling pretty good. We go through a small town and some people have turned out to cheer us on. One lady is calling out, “You look good! You’re doing great! You look … hot.”
Then came the scariest part of the race for me. I’m peddling along in my zone, when I’m passed by this lady. As she pulls in in front of me, she starts to look over her shoulder. She is probably less than a foot from where the pavement drops off onto the gravel shoulder. She moves closer to the edge. I can see it coming. Sure enough, she slips off the edge and onto the gravel. She looks as if she is about to go down, which is not good. And, she is right in front of me, which is not good for me. I picture myself running right over the top of her, doing a header over my handle bars and flying into the ditch. Fortunately, she manages to pull it back up on the pavement and keeps going. I move a little further away from the edge myself.
I am now on the back stretch of the bike route for the Sprint. I pass Joe. I greet him, give a few words of encouragement, and continue on. I know he will catch me on the run. So, I don’t feel bad about leaving him behind. I pass the ten-mile marker. I’m half-way home. My toes are starting to go numb.
Now, all the way along this back stretch, there has been this strong crosswind coming from an odd angle. And, I have been thinking, I can’t wait until that final turn because I think the wind will be better after the turn. Well, I make the turn and discover just how wrong I was. I am now riding into a direct head wind. In addition, I know from reviewing the elevation charts on the event web site, that the worst hills are yet to come. All down the final stretch, I’m playing cat-and-mouse with another rider. I pass her on the uphills and she passes me on the down hills. Then I see “the hill” ahead. Ugh! My hands are starting to go numb.
Shortly after I made it up the most punishing hill, I had a very amazing thought. I thought to myself, “next year, I’ll need to do a bit more intensive training.” Wow. I’m already thinking about next year. I know now I’m going to make it.
I pass the 50-mile marker for the HIM course. Six miles to go. Then, the happiest sight of my life: the city limits sign. We weave off the road and back into the park. The volunteers and supporters are there again to cheer us on. I dismount my bike. Note to self: next year slow down just a bit more when you dismount. Trying to dismount with wobbly legs is a bit challenging. But, I did manage to stay up on my feet and jog my bike back to the rack.
I’m off on the run. I grab a drink as I exit the transition area. I jog. I walk. I jog. As I round the last curve in the park, on the right side of the path are a group of spectators giving encouragement. On the left is a participant on his knees throwing up. I’m happy that I don’t feel that bad. A volunteer warns me of uneven footing ahead as we leave the park and head out on the run. I take his warning as a command to walk. I’m out on the road. I jog. I walk. I jog. So much for my master plan to jog the first mile, walk a stretch, and then jog the rest. The sun has now fully come out for the run and I’m very please as we turn onto the big straight away to see all the shade from the trees.
I reach the first water station. I grab the water, take a quick drink and dump the rest over my head. Wow, I feel rejuvenated. I start to jog again. I meet Mark as he is heading back on the run. He has a good lead on me. I reach the next water station. Again I drink a little and dump the rest on my head to revive myself. As I head back on the straight-away, I meet Julie. I’ve got a little lead on her. I haven’t seen Joe. He should be catching up with me. As if on cue, Joe pulls up from behind and greets me. We chat a little bit then I let him pull ahead as I slow for the final water station. This time I don’t drink. I take the whole cup and pour it down the neck hole of my shirt. That does it. I suddenly feel refreshed and take off again. I manage to pass Joe who pulled up to walk again. I jog on for a bit and then slow to a walk. A runner passes me and tells me that I’m almost there. These triathletes are great. I go back to jogging and walking. I enter the park and pick up my jog pace a bit. This is it. I once again remind you of the lay out of the transition area/finish line. Yes, the finish line is at the top of the hill. Beating is now too good for the person who placed the transition area/finish line at the top of the hill. As I slow to a walk at the bottom of the hill Joe passes me for the final time. Then I begin to climb as quickly as I can up the winding path to the top of the hill. The crowd is cheering everyone on. I see it. I see the finish line. I hear them call out my name to announce my arrival. I cross the finish line. I have done it. A young volunteer comes out to remove my chip. She is struggling to get the athletic tape off. I apologize and help her as best I can. I stumble out of the finish area and meet up with my friends where we exchange laughs and war stories like seasoned veterans. We pick up our official results and split times. I am quite happy with my results: 2 hours and 14 minutes. My swim time was good despite my fears. My run time was right where I had been training. We cheer on some others as they finish. Just after we finish, the HIM-ers are hitting their second transition. I watch some of them take off on their run. They are machines.
It was a great experience. I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been. I’m already planning on next year. As a matter of fact I’m going to run tonight. I have to be ready for the 2nd Annual Chisago Lakes Triathlon.
