The First of Many

About eight days ago, I headed out with two other classmates to SLO for my first triathlon in about 7 years. The last one I did was a Sprint Tri in hopes of three-peating my victory status. I ended up in the Emergency Room and Jason took the responsibility any other Hall would- won it. Having learned my lesson all so many years ago, I felt that not falling while on a bike would be the better option- smart, right! On another note, I decided to turn up the distance a bit and do an Olympic length instead of sprint. For those unawares, Olympic distance is a 1500 meter swim followed by a nice 40 km (24.8 miles) bike and topped off with a 10 km (6.2 miles) jog.

Having set that stage, whatever my intentions were about dominating the field once again were completely demolished. I get there, and it's a mecca of college kids from UCSD and UCLA to Stanford and Cal. Everybody was part of some campus club that had a coach, regular practices, and set cheers before the horn went off. Needless to say, they were way out of my league. Nevertheless, I squirmed into my wet-suit, donned my cap and goggles, and began my epic journey into the water. First off, that water was so cold! My feet didn't get feeling back until halfway through the run. But we start out and bodies are everywhere; it had been a while since I had felt up that way. I started off well, but at the turn of the first buouy things went down hill really quickly. The combo of really choppy water and a lake that had a clearness level of nothing left me nauseous and dizzy. It took me a while to get my bearing back, and by that time the girls who started 10 minutes after me started passing me; embarrassment was definitely felt.

But out of the water I came and off to the bike portion. This could seriously have been my favorite part. A little side note here, though. So, about three-quarters of the people here have these really nice triathlon bikes made of carbon-fiber with helmets which serisouly makes them look like a mild form of Darth Vader. Don't get me wrong, I've got some sweet wheels; they just took it up a notch or two. Probably one of the greatest feeling I had was knowing that even though they had a gear, I was still passing them as I pumped it out on the bike.

The run was a whole different story. Having tried to run for the majority of my life and helping coach a bit, I thought I could handle the run. That run was awful! From the bike my calves were blown and by the time I started running, the guy who won had just finished. But after my feet finally got their feeling back, I got into my stride and somehow made it through the finish line. I might have never been so happy to finally finish something as when I crossed that line. All that seriously left me when I found out there was no chocolate milk to partake of as part of my after-party ritual. For those who care, the finishing time was 2:41:55.6. I'll get better, I promise.

So back on the road to Prescott we went, stopping by the Hall's residence for some hot water and a generous meal; sustanence had never felt so good! The day after, my body felt like a bulldozer had rolled over me- twice. Mentally, I'm still recovering but should be back at it another one in a few months.