Yes, Saturday was my annual endeavor to humiliate myself at the Black Hills triathlon. After mentioning it to everyone in the family, friends, acquaintances, and co-workers no one chose to come out and see me suffer for snippets of the almost 3 hours of racing. Even my lovely devoted wife said, “ yah whatever” and went running with our running buddies, went out to breakfast and celebrated a few birthdays, one milestone 60th for our buddy Bob Lanouette (happy birthday Bob! and Becci too!), rather that be bored at the race. Perhaps my insistence in arriving 2 hours early and my annoying pre-race jitters had something to do with it. Needless to say, feeling unloved and uncared and under appreciated, I drug myself out for what, on intent reflection of my history of the race, appears to be my 18th time racing in this event in some capacity.
Luckily it’s like going to a high school reunion at this race. After all the years the old race junkies like me congregate, mingle, and reflect on their various races, exploits, injuries, cholesterol counts, and upcoming joint replacemnt surgeries over the past years. Now we lament about slowing down, gimping up and yet we still show up year after year for our punishment of swimming ¾ of a mile biking 30 and running 5 miles.
This year it wasn’t sprinkling rain at the start like last year. It was a brisk 46 degrees at 7:00 AM but the sun promised to come out and warm us up into the high 70’s by the end of the race. The water was in the low 70’s, about as warm as it gets for this time of year. It was dead calm until the pre-race meeting at 9:20 then the warming sun kicked up a substantial wind. It’s always windy on the bike ride in the flats of south Thurston County; this year didn’t look any different.
This year is the last year in the sub-geezer category, so I was in the 3rd wave of 4. I got a good start and sucked in behind Olympia’s triathlon legend, Linda Nelson. She didn’t train at all this year but she still swims straight and fast so I was amazed to see I was in the front of our group coming up on the first buoy. No anxiety attacks this year and I didn’t find myself tied up with the swimming area ropes like last year. I lost Linda and my sweet draft at the buoy and had to rely on my own navigation skills for the rest of my 22:38 swim. I watched my buddy, Bill Penn, a butt kicking 55 year old master swimmer and ironman triathlete, blow past me at the last buoy making up the 5 minute head start I had on him. Again, visions of the exact same pass in last year’s race.
After dumping my wetsuit and donning my mountain bike shoes I sprinted up the ¼ mile hill for a fast transition. Three miles later, Bill again past me on the bike. I guess my transitions are still the best part of my race. On the bike I was pleased to see a tail wind for the first 13 miles of the ride but dreaded the eventual turn around that would change the screaming 25 mph on the flats I was able to maintain to a painful 16 mph grind into the face of the wind. I brushed a yellow jacket off that stuck to the hairs of my leg at one point. It was a déjà vu moment of getting stung in the face last year at the same race. I thought I’d scored the perfect motor pace when some old dude on a scooter pulled out in front of me fully equipped with tassels and nick knacks stuck to various parts of his body and scooter. I did my best to close the gap and tuck behind the old guy but I just couldn’t close the gap. Next year I think I’ll post my father out on the course for a much needed assist. The wind and the hills beat me down to a 19.7 mph average for the bike by the time I turned into the park. There I got trapped behind some truck doing 10 mph. My energetic hand jesters did little to dissuade her poky tour of the park. Finally a sympathetic volunteer guided her off the course and out of my frickin’ way.
I was off the bike and onto the scenic trail run course in 25 seconds. I concentrated as hard as I could on my footing, not wishing to repeat my foot breaking ankle twist last year. You know how you sometimes concentrate so hard on not doing something that you can’t seem to avoid doing it anyway. A half a mile into the run I managed to find some imperfection on one of the widest smoothest section of the trail to twist the same my ankle and nearly fall. For the next dozen steps I lurched along with my nose 2 inches off the dirt trying not to fall and roll my sweaty self in the dirt so I looked like a piece of Almond Roca. This year I avoided screaming obscenities. I was by myself at that point on the trail and we all know if Greg screams pointless obscenities in the forest and there is know one there to hear it, there is no sound. I walked for 100 feet or so and then started to jog. I could feel the bone in my foot that was broken last year but the pain wasn’t as bad. After another ¼ mile or so I was running pretty well again and passed 8 or 10 people before the finish. I got passed only twice, humbled by the fact that they were beautiful strong women but relished in the improvement in scenery as I watched them fade into the distance like mirages.
I finished strong feeling exhausted and at least a little exhilarated for pushing myself so hard for 2:37:11, 47th overall out of 188 individual racers,and 9th place in my age division our of 23. I’m hoping next years move into the 50-54 age bracket will be kinder on me. If I was just t months older I would have placed 2nd. The foot is a little bruised but I’m still walking (at least that was an improvement over last year!). I think I did rebreak it but not as badly as last year. just a little bruising over the site of the old break.
I’ve recycled a picture below of last year’s race since there was no support crew there to take pictures. My buddy Denny Brooks will posted some pictures on http://www.ontherunevents.com/finish.sht. I stole one of his to post here. I know no one really cares, but in case you’re bored and you actually read this all the way to the end . . . Who knows it could happen.
