New #30: Complete a Triathlon

This was no ordinary new. Forget eating an exotic food or learning a quaint craft. This was a new of champions. It's hardcore. It involved months of training, sweating, fatigue, frustration and fear. It was a new many other news (New #25, New #29) built up to and wanted to be.

It was the Loveland Sprint Triathlon.

750 yards of swimming. 13.5 miles of biking. 3.1 miles of running. Back-to-back-to-freakin-back. That's what I was up against. But I'm happy to report ... I kicked it's ass.

The journey (and I mean that, it really was like a relentless odyssey) began a few months ago when my friend Jessica suggested we give this tri a try. Sure, why not? I figured. I try to get myself to the gym as often as I can, why not work out with a purpose? But this kind of training was way beyond the elliptical. Actually, it didn't involve much of the gym at all. Instead, I found myself swimming through algae-filled lakes (see Jessica's account of that adventure here), biking from town to town and (gasp!) jogging up and down the street. I am far from a jogger. But I pushed it as much as I could, every workout reminding myself that the more I hurt now, the less I'll hurt during the event.

But no matter how much I trained, nothing could shake my nerves leading up to the big day. What if I get kicked in the head and drown during the swim? What if I get a flat during the bike ride? Will I die during the run? Somehow I fell asleep the night before the race - and woke up at 6 a.m. the next day to head off to the torturous triathlon.

The event was held next to a lake in Loveland. I loaded my gear in the designated transition area, where hundreds of other competitors were doing the same. Most people looked like they really knew what they were doing, so I just mimicked them.

Me, Jessica and Raquel: The Tri Trio

By 7:45 a.m., it was almost go time. Wading in the lake, I waited with my heat for the gun shot. We heard some sort of "go!", and with that the race had begun. Immediately, the water went white with about 60 people swimming, splashing and struggling to move forward. It was really animalistic! People clawed and kicked their way through the water, literally swimming over anything in front of them (people included). Luckily, I got out in front of the pack right away - thanks to an entire childhood of competitive swimming. But even up there, I more than once encounter a person suddenly turning 90 degrees and swimming right into me. I powered through, but ended up using more energy than I'd hoped. By the time I hit the sandy shore, I was pooped. But this was only the beginning.

Next I had to run about a 1/2 mile to the transition area, were I dried off and put on my biking gear. I had arranged my shirt, shorts and even shoelaces so I could put them on as swiftly as possible. But the speedy change I'd imagined was instead used as a slow-moving minute to catch my breathe. Still, there wasn't much rest for this weary triathlete. I soon hit the pavement and began pedaling forward.


The bike leg started on major streets, but soon turned north toward a long stretch of open, hilly road. It would have been void of any other pedestrians - except during this race, hundreds of volunteers turned out to cheer us along the way. It was very encouraging to have a whole fan club telling you how awesome you are. Plus, with many of the roads closed off for us, I really felt like a cycling celebrity.

About 45 minutes later, I had biked back to base camp. Time to ditch the bike, strap on my running shoes and "run" ahead. Sigh. As I'd feared, this was definitely the hardest part of the race. After I was able to get past the notorious runner's wall (when breathing becomes more of a labored pant), I was able to set a steady but slow pace. I was doing great for myself, but other athletes quickly began to pass me. There was one point of interest in that, though. For some reason, they had written the age of each participant on the back of their calf. So as someone would jog by, I would play a game with myself and guess their age. Sadly, I didn't need the number to tell me many of these people were much older than me. And their ages indeed confirmed many were 40, 50 and even 60+ years old. At least I made them feel extra good about passing me, the 26-year-old.

The last mile of the run was killer. It was the one time during the entire race that I began pouting and decided this was a really stupid idea and that I'm definitely never doing one again. Hmph. Even with the finish line in sight, it was hard to find any strength left in my muscles to push ahead. Thankfully, I was able to power through the last few yards.

Rounding the final corner. Below, I smile because it's almost over.

Then, 1 hour 36 minutes later, the moment I'd been anticipating for months arrived. I finished a triathlon! Before I could celebrate too much, I wobbled over to a water stand and plopped down on a bench. I was heaving and aching and sweating like a madman - but I had done it!


Surprisingly, it didn't take too long to find my feet again and enjoy the festivities, including food and music. After the results were posted, I was shocked with another surprise. I placed third in my class! Woohoo! Now, with a medal earned for my efforts, I think I'll ignore the near-death runner I was toward the end of the race and most definitely give a tri a try again.