My first tri

Saturday, May 12: 26.5 miles to Topsfield
Sunday, May 13: JCC Triathlon by the Sea. Finished No 138 out of 203 athletes

The day before your first triathlon, might I suggest that instead of going on an unplanned 26 mile bike ride to Topsfield, you spend some time in the pool. Riding with the Cyclopaths cycling group was nice, but an hour ride to stretch my legs turned into a two-hour ride, one hour too much. Then I worked at Marblehead Cycle lugging bikes up and down the stairs. To top it off, I didn't sleep very well with house guests, friends of ours from Russia, roaming around upstairs packing on their return trip to Russia.

Having done a lot of charity rides, but never a race or a triathlon, the next morning was surreal. I managed to buy some Gatorade and get a good parking space on the hill of the JCC. I registered, then asked Maria about what to do next, and her response was "hurry up and wait." At one point, someone told me I could go to the pool to warm up, but the top 100 had already gathered there and I was intimidated by the whole pool thing. It suddenly struck me. I had never swum in anger before. I was going to have to bluff. As I got closer to the water, No. 109 in the pool, I tried to reassure others around me that all you had to do was relax, swim your swim, don't push to hard. It was all fake.
When at last I was at the start, the man punching the numbers in for the start told me to 'go,' instead of heading in feet first, I dove. I came up thrashing and pushed as hard as I could, then swam the second lap and thought to myself, 'I'm going to drown.' I made it one more lap, rolled over, took off my swim goggles and wanted to get out of the pool.
Somewhere, somehow, I heard my childhood friend Steven Ford, who is a triathlete and who likes to take a slow swim time so he does not have to feel rushed, blurt out: "That's no 5-minute swim."
Taking off the goggles had the affect of calming me, and swimming on my back allowed me to rest. Those swimming behind me in the pool, however, were trying to crawl over me, and I let three of them go at once. I felt a mixture of shame and fear. I kept looking up to see if the lifeguards, mostly young girls, were going to pull me out. I kept going, struck with the thought that my daughters were probably standing on Marblehead Neck, waiting for me along the bike course. They would not like it that Dad only completed half the swim.
Somehow, I made it to that last 10th lap, and I rolled over and free-styled it as best I could to the finish. I think it took me nearly 8 minutes to swim 1/8th of a mile. I was relieved that I had not drowned.
I took my time to get my bike shoes on. It was good to be getting on the bike. It was so warm, I didn't need a towel. As I accelerated away from the swim, my body slowly adjusted to being on the bike. At first I soft pedaled, but I was determined not to get caught. I sped up. I rode fast, but not all out, because I wanted to save something for the run, because I cannot run to save my life.
I made it around the neck three times relatively unscathed. I passed a lot of people riding not such great bikes. It was great to zoom past Sophie and Aveen standing at the bend to the causeway cheering me on. That made the struggle in the pool worthwhile. I was 62nd on the bike.
At the bike dismount, the organizers had us run up hill to the timing pad, which was not easy to do in bike cleats. A twisted ankle here would have meant my swim was all for naught. I took my time again putting my running shoes on, then headed out of the JCC driveway onto Atlantic Ave.
I can walk quicker than I can run, but I kept going. Several people passed me, including a woman who also looked as if she were struggling. I just could not seem to find my kick, but I had run the course the week before, so I knew I could at least do the distance. This was my neighborhood, after all, so it felt good running in familiar territory.
Somewhere on Atlantic, Lori Sherf, who can a run a marathon in her sleep, passed me. I had passed her on the bike on the Neck, but she is a strong runner. She is so strong, that when she finished, she met her friend, and then ran the course again to be with her.
After about the second mile, after we had turned onto Humphrey Street, I passed the struggling woman. Then I got passed by a few more people. Finally, I turned onto Sea View, and I tried my best to sprint up the hill to gain time, but I tired. A woman, Bridgett, I'm sure, who is now our Thursday spin instructor, sprinted past me without a word.
We turned left onto Atlantic Avenue toward the home stretch. I was finally able to open up and run. There were cars on both sides of the street, and traffic, but I kept running on the road, and it was great to pass runners who had just finished on the bike. Steve came striding past me, just heading out on his run. We high-fived as we passed. I knew that in the end, even though I would finish ahead of him, that his overall finish would wipe we away. I was so glad to finish. Someone handed me a red, white and blue ribbon.
I met up with my daughters, hung out, drank a Muscle Milk, changed clothes, packed up my bike, hung out, listened to a portion of the awards ceremony before Aveen, my 11-year-old, dragged me away for lunch, the medal dangling under my shirt.
Somehow, the organizers knew that this was my first triathlon, and after sprinting to the finish line, someone handed it to me. I put it on as if I'd won gold. On the back it read "My First Tri."
You can see for yourself the results to the JCC Triathlon by the Sea.