Making a Fool of Myself, or, My First Triathlon

by Susan Lucas

At the end of August, I had the opportunity to make a complete fool out of myself, and I did it well.  I had been training all summer for an off-road Extreme Triathlon that was to be held in a small town just south of Jackson, Mississippi. I had worked hard for this triathlon, getting up early every morning to run six miles, swimming and lifting at lunch time, and then mountain biking after work, plus my long run every Sunday morning. I had also endured remarks from my friends that subtlety questioned my sanity when I related my workout routine to them.  I didn’t care because I had a goal, and it felt really good to work toward this goal.

The weekend came, and I was off to Mississippi.  I had studied proper transition methods on the internet, I had all the right gear, I was in shape, I was strong,  I was ready!  The evening before the triathlon, I spent an hour pre-riding the mountain biking course.

The morning came, I was up early in plenty of time to fully prepare, eat my oatmeal, drink my coffee and be ready.  I went to the registration desk to get my number, and when the race organizer magic--markered the number 6 on my arm and leg, I felt like a real triathlete!

I grabbed all my gear and got on my bike to ride down to the transition area in order to get a prime spot to lay out my stuff. Since I had ridden the course the night before, I knew about this, but sometimes when you are all excited and have adrenaline pumping, you forget stuff.  I knew that they had placed a string across the road to keep vehicles from going down to the transition area, but this morning, going full tilt on my bike, I had forgotten about it.  Until, of course, it was too late.  I saw the string that I was heading right for, slammed on my brakes, and went flying.

Wham!  I hit the asphalt, hard, and the next thing I knew, I was lying there with my bike on top of me, my feet still clipped into my pedals.  Crap! I said.  Then I realized that I was not alone.  The string across the road right in front of the registration desk.  The next thing I saw was twenty or so triathletes looking at me sprawled out on the pavement with all my gear spilled around me.  “Susan, Susan, not a good start,” I head from the registration desk.  I saw suppressed laughter, but my fellow racers were kind enough to ask if I was ok.  Of course I was even though my leg and elbow were both badly scraped up. My bike didn’t fare too well, either, but the worst of it was my ego.  Wow, I couldn’t have done anything more stupid.  But, as you get older, you learn to laugh at yourself more, and by the time I had gotten back on my bike and reached the transition area, I was laughing hysterically.

There is something about wiping out in front of the registration desk that makes you something of a celebrity, and it seems that suddenly everyone knew me. “Hey, Susan, don’t trip!” someone yelled at me as I walked across a field near the transition area.  “Very funny,” I growled back at him. My friend from the registration desk came up to me to make sure I was ok.  “Of course, I am,” I replied.  I’ve already made the biggest ass out of myself that I could, so everything else has to be downhill from here.  “Yeah, you did,” she replied.  Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought.

Finally, after half a dozen trips to the porta-potty, the race started.  I was in the second heat of swimmers.  Swimming in a lake with 50 others wailing about is a completely different experience to swimming in a nice, pristine, pool, but I didn’t care so much as I knew the swimming part of the race would be my weakest, and I just wanted to get through it.  Coming out of the water, I asked my nice friend from the registration desk how many women were ahead of me. She said five or six.  I got to the transition area and did not see another woman.  That is curious, I thought.  I didn’t realize they had already been and gone.  My transition was awful.  I couldn’t get my socks on because of my wet feet.  I was dripping wet and shaking.  But I got myself together, ate a gel, grabbed my bike, and was off.

I always assumed that the running portion of the race would be my best event since I run much more than swim or bike. I was wrong.  Over the course of the next half an hour, I started passing the other women one by one.  I also knew that I had already made an ass of myself, so I was going to have a bit of fun.  Having ridden the course the night before, I knew there was a really fun hill near the beginning of the course.  I went down the hill full tilt, passing two women en route, and yelling, “Yeee-haw” at the top of my lungs. 

After the completion of the first 7 mile lap, my friend from the registration desk yelled at me that there was only one woman ahead of me. In my head, I allowed myself to day-dream a little.  Could it be possible that I might actually come in second?  No!  Not possible.  I decided to just keep on going, plugging away and finish, as finishing was my original goal.  For the second lap, I was all alone in the woods.  No one else in sight.  So I peddled and let my mind wander.  Two things keep going through my mind.  “Push down, pull up! Push down, pull up!  Use your pull-up muscles!” was the first, and it was Cathy Pagani’s voice from spinning class.  “B double e double r un, beer run!” was the second from a friend of mine who had introduced me to this stupid song.  “Push down, pull up! B double e double r un, beer run! Use your pull-up muscles!”   Seven miles of this and I had just about lost my mind, but I had never felt better about myself or about my body.

Finally, after an hour and a half, the bike section was finished.  I threw off my helmet, changed my shoes and was off.   I didn’t realize what toll the biking had taken on my legs. I thought the trail run was going to be the fun part of the race since I enjoyed the Monday night trail runs with Ed, Mark, Pat and the others from the track club. It was, without a doubt the slowest 5k of my life.  I just didn’t have anything left!  I even had to walk part of it!  I was so wiped out that I realized that if another woman was coming up from behind me, I would have to let her go and settle for third because I just didn’t have anything left. But no woman was there.  I ended up doing an 11-minute pace!

I crossed the finish line and the woman from the registration desk said to me, “Susan, you came in second overall.”  That was a feeling I don’t have words to write about.  I had met every goal I had for the triathlon, plus come in second overall!  What a high!

The awards ceremony came and the totem pole trophy (it was the Totem Pole Extreme Off-Road Triathlon) for first over-all was given, and then I was all excited to walk up there and redeem myself with my second place trophy, but the next award was for the female master’s.  What? I thought to myself.  Then I realized that they were only giving out first overall.  I would go on to win my age group, one of the biggest disappointments I’ve had.  I wanted a second place trophy, not a first place one!  I was so sad!  Then they had a special category for first time triathletes, and I ended up getting another first place totem pole.  As I went to receive it, I decided that I had made up for the ass I had made of myself, and I felt that everyone else in the room thought the same way.