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.

New #25: Bike to Work Day

This was definitely a new I wouldn't have tried if not for my New Year's resolution. Even after I'd committed to it in my mind, I woke up that morning with butterflies in my stomach and debated backing out of it all together. It was Bike to Work Day, a national initiative that encourages people to park their cars and pedal to the office instead. This wouldn't be an issue if I worked, say, in the same city as where I live. But I don't. Even with a car and 60 mph speed limits, it takes me about 20 minutes to commute one way. I couldn't imagine what this would be like from a bike - hence why I was so apprehensive about the whole idea of it. But Wednesday, I decided to suck it up and give it a try. And like every other new before this, I'm glad I did.

Before my feet hit the pedals I had to change my usual lazy morning routine. To start, I had to wear different shoes to just get to work, because I certainly wasn't going to give this a go in heels. And how was I going to get this extra pair of shoes - and lunch, and wallet - to work with me? I hadn't thought about it until that morning. So I moved everything I'd usually throw in the car seat next to me into a back pack. I found another hiccup when I went to grab my lunch ... from the freezer. I always have a frozen lunch, which I was pretty sure would become an unfrozen one on my ride. But it was too early to think up an alternative, so I just stuck the thing in my pack too and hoped for the best. What's wrong with a little melted pizza, anyway?

Posing next to the bike before the ride.
For all I knew, it would be the last picture ever taken of me.

Once out the door, the first few block of my ride were easy enough. Just a cruise down the sidewalk of wide and welcoming streets. But as soon as I crossed over Harmony Road, I knew I wasn't in the safety of suburbia anymore. Immediately, the road led into the rural part of town, a six-mile, two-lane road of my drive that lets cars speed up to 60 mph. Great for cars, not great for cyclists riding along the side. Needless to say, this made me nervous. As I road down the street, I kept thinking that all it would take is one little piece of gravel to trip up my bike and throw me on the ground in front of a passing car that wouldn't have enough time to stop and couldn't avoid running my head right over. So maybe I am a bit of a chicken - but it really could happen! With this fear ringing in my ears, I made sure to break all the way down each hill - which, by the way, there were way more than I'd anticipated.

This is a route I drive everyday, but my perception of it totally changed once I traveled it via bicycle. From the car, I would describe the ride as a jaunt through the lightly rolling hills. But pedalling my ass on the bike, those" little rolling hills" become treacherous, steep mountains that I had to slowly work my way up each one. And even once I reach the peaks, with my legs burning and face sweating, I couldn't enjoy the cruise down - not only because I was scared of rocks making me fall, but because the wind of passing cars pushed me so hard I felt like I had no control.

Really, this part of the ride was not pleasant. Just long and scary. I've never been so happy to cross 57th Street into Loveland and make my way back into a civilization with bike lanes. Here, I could once again enjoy the ride. One thing I did really appreciate was all the sensory stimulation along the way. From the bike, I could smell the cut grass in fields, hear birds chirping in trees and feel the wind on my face as I powered forward. I also got a big kick out of the passing train. I usually don't pay much attention to it, but this day I was able to watch it chug across the field next to the road. I even tried to race it until it veered behind a hill.

It felt like hours, but I finally turned the last corner on the homestretch of my commute. I was so happy I cheered out loud. It took me exactly 1 hour to make the 11.5 mile ride. I was sore and sweaty when I walked into work, but wide awake and full of pride. Although the ride was arduous, it felt so good knowing that I alone had gotten myself from one city to the next. There wasn't help from a gas pedal or power steering, just my own feet pushing on the bike pedals to move forward and my own muscle power getting me to my destination. I don't know how soon I'll make the ride again, but it was an awesome way to start my day. That morning, I definitely did not need coffee.