The alarm greeted me promptly at 4:30AM. I gave myself another five minutes and then rolled out of bed to start getting ready. I had packed up my new, way-cool transition bag the night before. Check out http://www.rocketsciencesports.com/RJ_Bag_Page.php if you'd like to see a picture. It rocked! I was able to get all of my goodies, gadgets and gear into one bag and strap it on my back unlike many of my teammates who had to lug multiple bags. Plus, the snazzy red and black matched my bike --which, of course, is very important. As Andreas said, I'm a "girl first, athlete second!" Special thanks to Marcin Sochacki, CEO extraordinaire at Rocket Science Sports, for sending it to my hotel via Express Mail after a shipping mixup.
OK, enough of the shameless plug for a future sponsorship (hint, hint Marcin). I hustled downstairs and found that I was the first to arrive. I remembered to take my allergy medication and decided to munch on a granola bar since swimming always makes me hungry. We headed off to the park and as Sherry tried to keep us calm and motivated, I simply tried to keep my eyes open. We arrived at the park and I started practicing my eyelash batting so I could find some guy with a pump to inflate my tires. Fortunately, the folks parked next to us were kind enough to offer us their pump and let us just stash it under their car when we were done -- no eyelash batting required. See Geoffrey! I really DON'T need a bike pump!
Tires inflated and time for the bodymarking. I'd have to say that this is the most humiliating part of the process. Walking around with my age tattooed to my calf does not exactly do wonders for my psyche. Aren't girls supposed to keep folks guessing? I considered lying to the volunteer, but I'm so terrified of breaking rules, I worried that that little white lie would cost me, so I decided to tell the truth. Tires inflated, body marked, time to head to the transition area. This is where you store all of your gear for your (supposed) lightning fast changes between the swim and the bike (T1) and the bike and the run (T2). I remember Sherry saying something about counting the number of rows to our assigned row so that we could easily find our spot at transition time. Yeah, right. First, I'm not that hardcore that every second in transition makes a difference to me, and second, I can't even remember my name during a race so I knew I wouldn't remember my rack row. All I had to do was look at one of my arms or legs to get my race number and then just find it on the big sign. Huh. I guess bodymarking IS good for something! I did do one smart thing. I racked my bike in the very last spot of my row next to the fence. That way, it would be easy to get to and my family could find me. Wow! Race day and I'm thinking clearly?! Maybe this will be OK after all.
Wow! My heart is starting to beat faster just thinking about the start of the race! Once I had all of my gear neatl
y arranged on my transition mat, I decided to wiggle into my wetsuit. I was checking my heart rate periodically and noted that it was already on a steady climb and it wasn't even 7AM. The announcer explained that based on the way they handle the race start, the last participant wouldn't enter the water until almost 9AM -- TWO HOURS after the first one. Regardless, I decided to get prepared early to avoid any unnecessary panic when it was my turn to take the plunge. I found my teammates and chatted and talked with my other rackmates. I am very much in love with my husband, but I have to tell you that there were some incredible creatures in that transition area. Under normal circumstances I would have simply made a mental note of that but my nervous energy forced me to blurt out my observations at times. There was a very well-sculpted man from Senegal who probably thinks I'm a nut! Oh well, chalk it up to nerves! At that point, the pros were just starting to get in the water and I figured I still had at least an hour to kill. I figured I ought to find my family for some moral support. Also, I knew that if I didn't get that highly publicized wetsuit photo, I'd never hear the end of it from a few folks at work who dug deep at donation time when I promised to deliver! What do you think, Brian? :-)
y arranged on my transition mat, I decided to wiggle into my wetsuit. I was checking my heart rate periodically and noted that it was already on a steady climb and it wasn't even 7AM. The announcer explained that based on the way they handle the race start, the last participant wouldn't enter the water until almost 9AM -- TWO HOURS after the first one. Regardless, I decided to get prepared early to avoid any unnecessary panic when it was my turn to take the plunge. I found my teammates and chatted and talked with my other rackmates. I am very much in love with my husband, but I have to tell you that there were some incredible creatures in that transition area. Under normal circumstances I would have simply made a mental note of that but my nervous energy forced me to blurt out my observations at times. There was a very well-sculpted man from Senegal who probably thinks I'm a nut! Oh well, chalk it up to nerves! At that point, the pros were just starting to get in the water and I figured I still had at least an hour to kill. I figured I ought to find my family for some moral support. Also, I knew that if I didn't get that highly publicized wetsuit photo, I'd never hear the end of it from a few folks at work who dug deep at donation time when I promised to deliver! What do you think, Brian? :-)The pros were off! How amazing to see all of these wesuit-clad, yellow-capped people take a run
ning start and dive into the most disgusting water you've ever seen in your life! If you've ever seen triathlon events on television and found it fascinating (like me), you have GOT to see it in person! It's quite a thrill. After the pros dove in, the relay swimmers were up next. I have to say, I'm not as impressed by these guys (and girls). They only had to do one leg, while the rest of us schmucks had to suck up the entire 30+ miles! Heck, even I could be competitive if I only had to focus on one sport! They all started the race in one big wave -- probably because the race directors (like me) felt that their one sport wussiness was enough of an advantage over the rest of the field already! Last, the 'age-groupers' were ready to start. That's what they call the rest of us folks who compete in this sport for the love of the journey and not the allure of cash and prizes.
ning start and dive into the most disgusting water you've ever seen in your life! If you've ever seen triathlon events on television and found it fascinating (like me), you have GOT to see it in person! It's quite a thrill. After the pros dove in, the relay swimmers were up next. I have to say, I'm not as impressed by these guys (and girls). They only had to do one leg, while the rest of us schmucks had to suck up the entire 30+ miles! Heck, even I could be competitive if I only had to focus on one sport! They all started the race in one big wave -- probably because the race directors (like me) felt that their one sport wussiness was enough of an advantage over the rest of the field already! Last, the 'age-groupers' were ready to start. That's what they call the rest of us folks who compete in this sport for the love of the journey and not the allure of cash and prizes.The time had finally come! The race announcer sai
d that everyone with numbers between 800 and 900 should find their place in line. With bib number 889, that was my cue. I headed over to the swim start and got into position. Fortunately, Sherry was there with words of encouragement that I sorely needed. If you look closely in one of the pictures, you can see Sherry with her arm around me giving me last minute words of wisdom. I can't remember everything she said, but I felt nearly invincible by the time she finished with me. How awesome is Mama Duck? After talking to Sherry, I was so calm I could even wave to my family just as the person before me was lowering her goggles to run into the water. Just as rehearsed, I made it to the front of the line, a volunteer put her hand on my shoulder, waited three seconds after the previous participant and said "Go!" In my world, total avoidance of public embarrassment is key. So, after watching (literally) hundreds of people plunge in the water before me, I decided that I was going to at least look good going in and save the pathetic flailing for once I was out of the publi
c view. Off I went, roaring into the water to start my race. In I went and "Yoweee!" This water seems colder than yesterday. Then, "Dang it!" Did someone just punch me in the head?! OK, so much for avoiding public embarrassment. I stood up and tried to restart. I think I made it just past the point where you could no longer touch the mushy bottom of the lake before I realized that this was going horribly wrong. I practiced all of the techniques Molly coached me through the day before. Unfortunately, they were way too tiring to keep up for any significant length of time. Then, a little voice flashed back to Friday's run in the drizzle and said "Suck it up!" So, I plunged my head back in the water and went back to freestyle. "Oh crap, that hurts!" Out again, I winced with pain as it became clearer that anything involving my head and that water was not going to be good. At that moment, a 'distinguished gentleman' came whizzing by me -- doing the backstroke. I giggled to
myself and figured, if he can, so can I! I flipped over and took off. After a few strokes, I realized that I had no idea where I was going because after being bumped a few times already, I worried about fully extending my arms without knowing who was in front of me. I flipped back over and just as I had suspected, I had made great progress, but in a sideways fashion -- nearly ZERO forward progress. Again, I thought "This is going to be a LONG day!" Finally, I remembered something that one of the TNT alums told me. She once pulled herself along the rope! I made my way to the rope, flipped back over and attempted the same. It worked! After doing this for a few minutes, I started feeling invincible again and decided to return to freestyle. "Dang! It STILL hurts!" I flipped back over and one of the safety boats paddled over to me. I guess they had been watching me for a while because one of the volunteers yelled over to me, "Go back to the rope, Dummy!" OK, she didn't say "Dummy" but that was certainly how I felt at that point. I obeyed orders and made it to the first large buoy. I resigned myself to
the fact that this would have to be my strategy for the entire course when I discovered that after that first buoy, there was no more rope! "Crap! What do I do now?" I went back to a combination sidestroke/backstroke/dog paddle/tread water routine that was incredibly tiring. I even tried to comply with the "Suck it up!" devil on my shoulder but I just couldn't do it. The swimming was effortless but the pain was unbearable. Then, a huge wave of fellow 'age-groupers' descended upon me. I'm not exactly sure how many times I got elbowed in the head, but it was enough to dislodge my breakfast and for me to call it quits. I knew that I would be disqualified for requesting to be pulled out of the water, but the angel on my other shoulder kept telling me that my family would KILL me if I drowned out there! So, I forced myself to make it to the halfway point and then waved my arms like crazy so that the volunteers would come get me.
Was this my last triathlon? I don't know. I probably have a few doctor visits in my future, but there's a short distance race on Saturday that could be pretty fun . . . I promised Geoffrey that I would be there. The question is, will I be RACING or VOLUNTEERING?
d that everyone with numbers between 800 and 900 should find their place in line. With bib number 889, that was my cue. I headed over to the swim start and got into position. Fortunately, Sherry was there with words of encouragement that I sorely needed. If you look closely in one of the pictures, you can see Sherry with her arm around me giving me last minute words of wisdom. I can't remember everything she said, but I felt nearly invincible by the time she finished with me. How awesome is Mama Duck? After talking to Sherry, I was so calm I could even wave to my family just as the person before me was lowering her goggles to run into the water. Just as rehearsed, I made it to the front of the line, a volunteer put her hand on my shoulder, waited three seconds after the previous participant and said "Go!" In my world, total avoidance of public embarrassment is key. So, after watching (literally) hundreds of people plunge in the water before me, I decided that I was going to at least look good going in and save the pathetic flailing for once I was out of the publi
c view. Off I went, roaring into the water to start my race. In I went and "Yoweee!" This water seems colder than yesterday. Then, "Dang it!" Did someone just punch me in the head?! OK, so much for avoiding public embarrassment. I stood up and tried to restart. I think I made it just past the point where you could no longer touch the mushy bottom of the lake before I realized that this was going horribly wrong. I practiced all of the techniques Molly coached me through the day before. Unfortunately, they were way too tiring to keep up for any significant length of time. Then, a little voice flashed back to Friday's run in the drizzle and said "Suck it up!" So, I plunged my head back in the water and went back to freestyle. "Oh crap, that hurts!" Out again, I winced with pain as it became clearer that anything involving my head and that water was not going to be good. At that moment, a 'distinguished gentleman' came whizzing by me -- doing the backstroke. I giggled to
myself and figured, if he can, so can I! I flipped over and took off. After a few strokes, I realized that I had no idea where I was going because after being bumped a few times already, I worried about fully extending my arms without knowing who was in front of me. I flipped back over and just as I had suspected, I had made great progress, but in a sideways fashion -- nearly ZERO forward progress. Again, I thought "This is going to be a LONG day!" Finally, I remembered something that one of the TNT alums told me. She once pulled herself along the rope! I made my way to the rope, flipped back over and attempted the same. It worked! After doing this for a few minutes, I started feeling invincible again and decided to return to freestyle. "Dang! It STILL hurts!" I flipped back over and one of the safety boats paddled over to me. I guess they had been watching me for a while because one of the volunteers yelled over to me, "Go back to the rope, Dummy!" OK, she didn't say "Dummy" but that was certainly how I felt at that point. I obeyed orders and made it to the first large buoy. I resigned myself to
the fact that this would have to be my strategy for the entire course when I discovered that after that first buoy, there was no more rope! "Crap! What do I do now?" I went back to a combination sidestroke/backstroke/dog paddle/tread water routine that was incredibly tiring. I even tried to comply with the "Suck it up!" devil on my shoulder but I just couldn't do it. The swimming was effortless but the pain was unbearable. Then, a huge wave of fellow 'age-groupers' descended upon me. I'm not exactly sure how many times I got elbowed in the head, but it was enough to dislodge my breakfast and for me to call it quits. I knew that I would be disqualified for requesting to be pulled out of the water, but the angel on my other shoulder kept telling me that my family would KILL me if I drowned out there! So, I forced myself to make it to the halfway point and then waved my arms like crazy so that the volunteers would come get me. So, I took the 'boat ride of shame' back to dry land and contemplated what to do next. I saw Andreas trying to keep an eye on the boys and me simultaneously -- a move that he has perfected over the years (both literally and figuratively). He was starting to look increasingly worried when he couldn't find me in the water so I walked right up to him and said "Looking for me?" I must have caught him off guard because he seemed unsure of how to respond. I don't really remember much of the rest of the conversation because the tears started welling up at that point. He immediately sensed my despair and had the boys give me sticky ring pop kisses and tell me that they were proud of me. I told him I needed to find Sherry and wandered off. Sherry cursed my doctors for not doing more for me knowing that I was going to compete no matter what. She told me it was OK and suggested that I go out on the bike course as another of my teammates had done after making an immediate u-turn upon entering the water. I told her that probably wouldn't make me feel better and maybe I should just pack up my stuff. I sulked over to my transition rack to ponder my next move. Then, as if on cue, that omnipresent voice of Big Al (my Dad) whispered in my ear, "So, what are you going to do -- pack up your tent and go home?" I honestly don't know what that means, but every time he's said it I've swallowed my pride and trudged on. So, I peeled off my wetsuit and swim cap, pulled on my socks and bike shoes, grabbed my helmet, gloves, sunglasses and bike and headed for the bike start.
Sherry had counseled us that the bike start was a bit funky because it was at the bottom of a hill so you had to make sure you were in the right gear in order to make it up since you wouldn't have any momentum to help you out. I had listened to all of that and given my neuro-issues, she thought it might be best for me to walk my bike up the hill and avoid any risk of falling. I thought about this briefly as I headed for the bike mount line. I decided to scrap her good advice because I could feel my stubbornness kicking in. There was no way in heck that this course was going to beat me twice! I was riding my bike up that hill even if it killed me! I smiled to myself as I effortlessly mounted my bike and made that climb as others beside me struggled to find the right gear and make forward progress. "See you later SUCKERS!" I thought to myself. "See, you can do it!" I told myself. So what, your times won't count and you can kiss that four-hour goal goodbye. So what?! Who really cares?! All of these people cheering me on don't even know that! All of the people who will benefit from the funds I've raised couldn't care less. Most importantly, my family and friends will still love me regardless of what happens. It's all about perspective. It's all about the journey and Sherry is right -- I HAVE loved every minute of it. That was what went through my mind over the next 25 miles. It was a beautiful morning and I got to ride my bike through the most serene landscape and I couldn't have asked for anything better. The course was nice and flat, so at times I was able to pick up a little speed and even exceed my own expectations. Now that I had my head on straight, I never even bothered to check my distance on my bike computer. "Who cares where I am on the course or how long it takes? I'm having fun, darn it!" Finally, when I was making one of the last turns on the bike course, I saw a familiar car with an even more familiar looking couple inside. I thought for a minute, "Hey I know those people!" I started waving frantically and the car slowed and then the driver waved back through the sunroof. It was my cousin Harold and his wife Ronda! How cool! Now, with the pressure off, I actually pedaled beside them for a few minutes and thanked them for coming to see me and directed them to where they would find Andreas and my brother Carl. It was a GOOD day!
I sailed back to the transition area and saw Vallery. She asked if I was going to do the run and I responded "Heck no!" While I was simply there for enjoyment at that point, my ego still didn't want me to be the
last person to finish. I made my way to my transition rack and there were Carl, Andreas and the boys waiting for me. I worried that Andreas would be angry with me because when we last talked I told him I was done for the day -- which was before 'the voice of Al' intervened. What was I thinking?! He was as proud as could be that I kept going and urged me to go out on the run too. How could I argue? The 'voice of Al' was replaced by the support and encouragement of Andreas and Carl, so off I went. I ran (OK, jogged) out of the transition area and out of the park. I started having trouble keeping my hat on my head because my hands weren't working so well anymore. As if summoned, Ronda and Harold immediately appeared. They had just parked and were walking down to find Carl and Andreas. I gave them my hat and off I went -- yet another in a series of small miracles and blessings that I experienced that day.
last person to finish. I made my way to my transition rack and there were Carl, Andreas and the boys waiting for me. I worried that Andreas would be angry with me because when we last talked I told him I was done for the day -- which was before 'the voice of Al' intervened. What was I thinking?! He was as proud as could be that I kept going and urged me to go out on the run too. How could I argue? The 'voice of Al' was replaced by the support and encouragement of Andreas and Carl, so off I went. I ran (OK, jogged) out of the transition area and out of the park. I started having trouble keeping my hat on my head because my hands weren't working so well anymore. As if summoned, Ronda and Harold immediately appeared. They had just parked and were walking down to find Carl and Andreas. I gave them my hat and off I went -- yet another in a series of small miracles and blessings that I experienced that day. At this point, there were very few people still on the course and most of the spectator attention was focused on the stream of people entering the final stretch to the finish li
ne. Even so, I ran on. Then, I heard a voice yelling "Stephanie!" I figured there were 2,000 people in this race, so surely this crazy person was calling another Stephanie. A few more steps down the road and that crazy person got even louder. I turned around just to check and realized that the crazy person was Sherry! She then yelled out, "Where are you GOING?" Can you believe it? I made a wrong turn and was heading off course! Apparently, one of the signs had fallen down and I was following the bike course instead of the run course. I backtracked and Sherry ran beside me for a quarter of a mile or so. I said a couple of bad words (sorry Mom and Dad) and then regained my composure. Sherry went into MD mode (since she's a medical doctor by training) and asked how I was feeling. "How's your head? Any slurring? Are you sure?" I gave all the right answers and continued on my way. I noticed that there were far more people coming back in from the run than just starting out like me, but I ke
pt on and the encouragement poured in. I was wearing my purple Team in Training racing jersey so all of my fellow TNT'ers made sure to yell out a hearty "Go Team!" as they passed. I saw John and Nikol from Birmingham and felt all warm and fuzzy to have folks encourage me by name. Then, a few people passed me from behind and even they were encouraging me by name. How the heck did THEY know my name? After the third or fourth person, I laughed out loud and thought, "Duh! You painted your name on the back of your jersey, Silly!" So, on and on I went ticking off the miles in my head as I passed each marker. It was starting to get a bit warm so I slowed at each rest area to grab a cup of Gatorade. Finally, I reached the turn-around point and it was time to "Round third and head for home" as Joe Nuxhall of Cincinnati Reds fame used to say. I had been following a steady run/walk routine for most of the course
. I figured that since it was starting to heat up, it was better to be safe than sorry since I had been having trouble keeping my heart rate out of the 190s lately. Then, somewhere between the four and five mile markers, here comes Mama Duck. As soon as I saw her I yelled out "What are YOU doing here?!" She answered "I came to bring you in!" Can I just tell you that I LOVE this woman? We ran/walked the last mile TOGETHER -- Mama Duck and Baby Duck. It was cool and touching and special all at the same time. When we got to the leveee --the last stretch before the finish line -- Mama Duck fell back so I could cross the finish line on my own. Greg and his wife Rose, Vallery and her friend Lydia, Harold and Ronda, Carl, Andreas, Peter and Joshua were all lined up. I was high-fiving like I had just done something special. Then, all of a sudden I realized that I re
ally HAD done something special. I stuck it out. I persevered and I finished what I started. How cool. See Dad! I didn't pack up my tent! I get it now! It feels good.
ne. Even so, I ran on. Then, I heard a voice yelling "Stephanie!" I figured there were 2,000 people in this race, so surely this crazy person was calling another Stephanie. A few more steps down the road and that crazy person got even louder. I turned around just to check and realized that the crazy person was Sherry! She then yelled out, "Where are you GOING?" Can you believe it? I made a wrong turn and was heading off course! Apparently, one of the signs had fallen down and I was following the bike course instead of the run course. I backtracked and Sherry ran beside me for a quarter of a mile or so. I said a couple of bad words (sorry Mom and Dad) and then regained my composure. Sherry went into MD mode (since she's a medical doctor by training) and asked how I was feeling. "How's your head? Any slurring? Are you sure?" I gave all the right answers and continued on my way. I noticed that there were far more people coming back in from the run than just starting out like me, but I ke
pt on and the encouragement poured in. I was wearing my purple Team in Training racing jersey so all of my fellow TNT'ers made sure to yell out a hearty "Go Team!" as they passed. I saw John and Nikol from Birmingham and felt all warm and fuzzy to have folks encourage me by name. Then, a few people passed me from behind and even they were encouraging me by name. How the heck did THEY know my name? After the third or fourth person, I laughed out loud and thought, "Duh! You painted your name on the back of your jersey, Silly!" So, on and on I went ticking off the miles in my head as I passed each marker. It was starting to get a bit warm so I slowed at each rest area to grab a cup of Gatorade. Finally, I reached the turn-around point and it was time to "Round third and head for home" as Joe Nuxhall of Cincinnati Reds fame used to say. I had been following a steady run/walk routine for most of the course
. I figured that since it was starting to heat up, it was better to be safe than sorry since I had been having trouble keeping my heart rate out of the 190s lately. Then, somewhere between the four and five mile markers, here comes Mama Duck. As soon as I saw her I yelled out "What are YOU doing here?!" She answered "I came to bring you in!" Can I just tell you that I LOVE this woman? We ran/walked the last mile TOGETHER -- Mama Duck and Baby Duck. It was cool and touching and special all at the same time. When we got to the leveee --the last stretch before the finish line -- Mama Duck fell back so I could cross the finish line on my own. Greg and his wife Rose, Vallery and her friend Lydia, Harold and Ronda, Carl, Andreas, Peter and Joshua were all lined up. I was high-fiving like I had just done something special. Then, all of a sudden I realized that I re
ally HAD done something special. I stuck it out. I persevered and I finished what I started. How cool. See Dad! I didn't pack up my tent! I get it now! It feels good. Thanks for reading my story. It was fun to write and a blast to live. There was much celebration after the race. We posed for family pictures and Carl showed me that he had clocked me on his stopwatch and had I been able to manage the swim, I would have beaten my time goal. "Maybe next time?" he said with a question in his voice. I hope that my story will provide encouragement to others who want to make a difference or face a challenge. I hope it sets a good example for my boys. I know it had an impact. Today, when we picked up Peter from a playdate, we asked what they did. He replied, "We played triathlon. We pretended to swim, took turns riding Ben's bike and then ran." I still haven't wiped the smile off of my face.
Was this my last triathlon? I don't know. I probably have a few doctor visits in my future, but there's a short distance race on Saturday that could be pretty fun . . . I promised Geoffrey that I would be there. The question is, will I be RACING or VOLUNTEERING?
Stay tuned!
