Wyckoff-Franklin Lakes Triathlon, 6/16/2012

I think we all know the Beatles’ song “I get by with a little help from my friends.”  This past year, that lyric couldn’t be more true for me.  My friends have been supportive and helpful.  And, I think it’s a two way street; I’ve had several friends tell me that my blogs have either inspired them, given them a strategy for improving their own health, or sometimes made them laugh.  “I get by with a little help from my friends.”

This past weekend I participated in the Wyckoff-Franklin Lakes Triathlon in Franklin Lakes, NJ.  This race was a ½ mile swim, a 17 mile bike ride, and a 5 mile run.  I did it last year, and would have to say it was my best race of the season. Last year I had a fantastic run portion, and the volunteers and organizers were so amazing that the race was nothing short of fantastic.  So, this year, I got to the venue nice and early – and I couldn’t have dreaded anything more.

Races tend to sell out very early, so I signed up for a whole bunch of them over the winter before I injured my Achilles tendon.  Though it’s basically healed, my back has become my new beast of burden, and frankly my Achilles has gotten rather cranky during this stint of 8 races in 9 weeks that I’m in the midst of (Wyckoff is race number 3, following an Olympic distance triathlon and a 10K).  And though I’m training and racing, my times are horrendous, my rhythm is off, my heart is just not into it.

All that said, I showed up on Saturday determined to try.  I set up my transition, and ended up near a woman who was more nervous than one of Henry VIII’s wives after he’d asked for her neck size.  I caught her eye and said, “First time doing Wyckoff?”  Her reply: “This is my first triathlon ever.  I’m terrified.”  I smiled, and told her how much fun this race is.  I also told her that I bet she had trained her ass off and was probably going to kill it, and what a great feeling it was to be done and have completed such a huge accomplishment.  She smiled and thanked me, and I smiled back and marveled at how I can help someone else, just before I faced my own debacle.

I met up with my friend Jeff, we wiggled into our wetsuits and walked to the beach.  Per usual, Jeff’s wave was about 15 minutes before mine, so I watched my dear friend swim off into his race and saw him for the last time that day, then stood around nervously waiting for my own.  Finally it was time for my own wave to get ready.  At that moment, I made a split second decision.  I had told that woman she’d trained hard and was going to own this triathlon.  Why not take my own advice?  Just when I made that decision, the horn blew for my wave, and I ran into the water. I swam hard, sighted well, only stopped to make some quick course corrections.  The swim course is an upside down U shaped one, and after that second turn the swimmer is going directly into the sun.  So, I just kept swimming, figured my time was amazing, and I would eventually hit land if I just kept going.  Finally, my hand touched mud and I stood up and walked the rest of the way out.  I ran up to transition, looked at my watch, and was gob-smacked (sorry, been watching a bit too much “Downton Abbey”): my ½ mile swim and run up to transition took 25 minutes, a full 3 or so minutes slower than I usually swim a ½ mile.  Damn it.

I’ll admit, I momentarily thought of stopping.  Here I was again, racing my heart out, and going slow enough to practically stop time.  But, like I’d said to that woman, I trained too hard.  So, I ate a Gu, drank some water, clipped on my helmet and ran out of transition with my bike. 

The bike portion is my absolute worst, which really sucks given that it’s the longest portion of any triathlon.  I’m slow, and at most have only ever passed one person during a race.  To try to make myself faster, I bought a speedometer for my bike, and for this race I told myself that except for really evil hills, I was to go at least 16 mph.  This was quite a grandiose dream, given that my usual pace on a bike is about 12 mph (I told you, worst biker ever).  So, I started going and just took off.

The bike course is 17 miles long, of relatively gentle rolling hills.  There is one evil portion that heads up, and though it’s not steep, it’s long.  Although I’m not a fast biker, I’m pretty strong, so when I got to that part, I put my head down and pushed it.  Hard.  I tried to maintain at least 15 mph on flats, go about 22 – 25 on downhills, and just work as hard as I could on the uphills.  And, I passed people!  Plural!  Well, OK, there was one woman who took me on every flat portion, but who I passed like she was dead on the uphills.  We played cat and mouse for most of the 17 miles, and I finally won out in the end, along with passing maybe 7 or 8 others.  The course ends with a big [expletive, starts with “f”, ends with “ucking”] hill that I pushed up with my legs coming up with their own expletives along the way.  I finally got up, finished the last ½ mile or so of the ride and looked at my watch.  My bike portion took about 1 hour, 10 minutes.  I was too tired to do the math at this point, but I was pretty sure I’d missed my 15 mph (I did; that’s about 14.4 miles per hour.  Another damn it).

At this point I was pretty frustrated, but just felt like there was no turning back.  Besides, everyone knows, that I LOVE to run.  So, I took another Gu, drank some water, and went off to try to enjoy my favorite part of every triathlon.

Last year when I did this race, I passed a lot of people on the run, and each time I just gained more energy from it.  This time, that wasn’t really happening.  I had a bad case of dead leg, and they just wouldn’t wake up.  The run was miserable, and mentally, I was done.

About two miles into the run, I came to a downhill.  There was a woman ahead of me and I thought I might be able to pass her.  So, I found some more gas in the tank and made my move.  In this triathlon, they write our ages on the back of our right calf.  And, as I passed this woman, I noticed her look at me, and just as I finished passing her, she yelled out, “Hey! 43 (my age.  Yes, really)!”  I turned to this complete stranger and watched her give me a big grin just before she said, “Hey!  You’re the Former Fat Girl!  I read your blog!  It’s great!”  This time I grinned to the complete stranger who I suddenly decided was my new best friend, shouted “Thanks!”, and then took off with the new found energy I gained from someone I had never met.

The run continued, but now I felt much better. A woman recognized me from my blog?  And gave me props for it in the middle of a race, while I was passing her?  How cool was that?  At one point in the race we had to run into a dead end, touch a mat on the ground and run out.  On my way out, this woman was running in.  I made mental note of her race bib, #744.  This time I yelled to her: “Hey, 774!  I’m putting you in my next blog!”  She smiled and replied, “Cool, I’ll read it!”  Later when I saw the results, I looked her up.  She did great (and completely kicked my ass in the swim :-), and her name is Katrina.  Katrina, if you are reading this, you have no idea what that shout out meant during the race.  Thanks!

Finally, I could hear the people at the finish line.  I started to slow down until this really cute guy (and if he’s reading this, I’m totally embarrassed right now) yelled out, “Hey, don’t fade now!  Pick it up!”  Then he flashed this amazing smile (sigh), and I shifted into overdrive as I ran over the finish line.  I stopped my watch and looked down: 2:32:06, about a minute slower than last year’s race.  And, I was elated.  No, I haven’t given in to my slower times.   I remembered why I do triathlons.  I do them to push myself, to remind myself that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. I do it to help out my friends, and to inspire people whenever I can.  “I get by with a little help from my friends,” and maybe friends and strangers get by with a little help from me.  Cool.