Murphy’s Law is an old adage that states: What can go wrong, will go wrong.  Well that wasn’t exactly the case with today’s race, not every thing went wrong….but a lot did!  This is going to be a long one, so grab a drink and kick back.

The conditions were set to be good, but the updates on current and swells don’t come in until after 7am, so I only had yesterday’s forecast to rely on.  The forecast called for a slight chance of rain and the seas were supposed to be calm according to the report.   I was glad to see green flags and calm seas.  I wasn’t too concerned about the rain, but hoped it might happen on the run where it would cool things down some.  Boy was the forecast wrong.

We had no issues getting to the venue,. We arrived at 5am and transition had just opened so there was no line.   The transition spots were assigned, so I knew I would not have to worry about getting moved aside for someone trying to get a better spot.  I set up my transition area pretty quickly and hung out with the boys, just waiting for the time to come to get suited up for the swim.  I waited and watched all the other athletes pile in and get in line to check in.  I am always so happy to see such a diverse pool of people in this sport.  Every age, every weight, every race has some presence here, and I love that.  My sister came, and my friend and her kids came too, which I was super happy about.  I always have mixed feelings about people coming to support me.  It means so much to me, yet I always feel bad that they are waiting around for me.

The time came, I put on my wetsuit and we headed down the beach to see where the swim start would be.  They were just putting the buoys out and I could see where the sprint distance swim was.  I had already reminded myself not to panic when I saw the distance of my swim.  I had to remind myself again when I saw the sprint distance buoys and knew that it was half what I had to do.  The OLY buoys were red, which I was glad for as you can’t miss them in the water.  I went to the swim start area and got in the water for a quick warm up.  I was nervous but surprisingly calm.  The moments flew by and the next thing I knew we were getting ready to get in the water and I had no idea where to get out of the water!  I asked one of the guys where we get out and he laughed, thinking I was joking!  Another racer told me that he thought we turned right at the last red buoy.  The buzzer went off and there I went.

The swim is supposed to be with the current and since I was wearing my wetsuit (which gives me floaty super powers) I wasn’t as freaked out as I expected to be.  I kept my head up to just get through to the buoy and then planned to swim properly parallel to the shore.  I got to the first buoy, which I knew would be challenging since you are fighting the waves.  I made the turn and stuck my face in the water and started to swim.  A few strokes in, I went to breathe and gobbled up a ton of salt water.  It burned all the way down.  I stopped dead in my tracks, choked up a bit.  I realized that the current had changed and we were pretty much swimming against it.  I felt like I was going nowhere and started to panic a bit.   Every time I tried to breath, I got water.   How was I going to swim all the way to the end like this?!  I knew I was starting to let the negative thoughts come in, so I did my thing and pictured my stop sign.  Only steps to move forward are allowed here, I thought.  I decided to keep my head up for a bit to catch my breath but would keep moving forward.  I didn’t care if it was doggie paddle style, I was not giving up yet.

Off and on, I would try to swim properly but was still having difficulty.  I could see the next buoy and told myself I would take it buoy by buoy.  My new goal was to just get to the next one.  People around me were either doing awesome or completely falling apart.  It’s amazing that in this very individual sport, there are so many supportive people.  I can’t tell you how many swimmers checked on me, in the middle of their own strokes!  They would tell me not to give up and keep pushing.  The lifeguard on the surfboards were the same.  At one point, a woman who was also struggling was choking on a bunch of water and threw up, right in my path.  I’m sure it was mostly salt water, but I know whatever it was, I swam right through it and almost threw up myself.  I grabbed the surfboard for a moment to try to keep myself from throwing up.  I had a mild reunion with the banana I ate in the morning, but was able to keep everything down.   I headed off again.

Shortly after passing the next buoy, the sky opened up.  It began to monsoon.  I could not see much ahead of me, but just tried to keep going and look out for the life guards, knowing they would point in the right direction if we headed off course.  The waves began to pound harder and I felt like I was getting tossed all over the place.  There was a moment when I looked over and saw the sunrise over the water and thought of how beautiful it was.  I really wanted one of those moments like you read about in books, where you tap into nature and just let go.  Where you have this epiphany that all is right with the world and reset into this picturesque moment.  Right when I was starting to feel that, a wave pounded me in the face and reminded me that this was not a book or movie.  That’s when the next wave of swimmers caught up to me and I had the pleasure of experiencing being swum over too.

This basically continued on and off for the entire swim.  It rained, it didn’t, it rained some more.  Waves crashed and I felt like quitting a dozen or more times, but every time I pictured that stop sign and just moved forward.  I got to the last red buoy and got excited!  I shouted to the lifeguard “I turn in here, right!?”  He shouted back “No,  unless you don’t want to continue.”  He went on to explain that I need to exit with everyone else,  at the green buoy.  I heard a buzzer go off and a group of swimmers from the sprint distance merged into where I was.  The realization set in, that both sprint and OLY swim exits are the same.  I was not nearly done.  I had just hit the halfway mark.

I reminded myself that my goal hasn’t changed.  Just get to the next buoy.  I kept moving forward, swimming right, swallowing water, swimming on my side.  Whatever worked for the moment and then I would change it as needed.  All the sudden I heard a woman say “help” in a hoarse voice.  I looked over and didn’t see anything but then she popped back up out of the water again.  She was really struggling.  She ripped her goggles off and tried to shout but could not.  I stopped and looked for a life guard.   I told her it would be ok, and shouted for him to come and get her.  He made his way over to her and she said “I can’t do this, I need to get out.”  They sent over the jet ski to pluck her from the water and bring her to shore.  I felt really sad for her in that moment.  I know what the feeling is like.  I saw that same scenario with at least 3-4 more people during the course of my swim.  I was asked more than a dozen times if I was ok or needed assistance.  I was proud that while my swim was taking forever, I moved forward the entire time.

As I approached the green and final buoy, a man was swimming on his back and panicking.  He could not catch his breath and said “I can’t do this.”  I looked over at him and said “Yes, you can.  You have done it already!  We turn this final buoy and swim to shore.  You can make it, you cannot quit now!”  He thanked me and we both turned the buoy to head into the home stretch.  He continued on his back and I decided I was going to end things right.  I put my head down and started doing the freestyle stroke I should have done the entire swim.  I got a few strokes in before my right calf completely seized up.  I let out an audible cry and flipped to my back.  I could not move my right leg.  The pain was immense.  I decided to see if the water was shallow enough to stand on my left foot but it was not.  I was just there, vertical in the water.  So close that I could see the people waiting on shore but so far that I could not get there.  I tried to move forward using just my arms, and the waves would bring me back.  It was only minutes but felt like an eternity.  I slowly made my way to shore.  I sat down in the water and began to rub out the cramp in my calf.  I could hear Darin shouting to me that I did it and to come on and get going.  I shouted to him that my calf was cramped and I could not get up yet.  I finally worked it out enough that I was able to get up and make my way to transition.

I don’t know why, but it was almost as if I thought the rain only happened in the water.  It’s dumb, I know, but I was in complete shock when I got to my transition area to find it was totally soaked.  My plan was to rinse the salt off my feet and dry them with my towel so that I didn’t have soaked salty feet in my bike shoes.  My towel was so wet I could wring it out and my bike shoes were sopping.  My helmet was wet, my glasses were wet and the roads were slick.  Oh crap, the roads are slick!

I put on my wet helmet and shoes and headed out with my bike.  I would have to go at a steady speed but was totally terrified that I would wipe out.   There’s little to no traction on a road bike on slick wet roads.  I was most concerned for the bridges and having to ride that wet metal grating.  I did ok on the bike ride, only a few minor things went wrong, like I grabbed my water bottle to take a drink and it was in the locked position so nothing would come out.  I had to put it back, try to get it open and then drink.  Normally that is not a big deal, but when the course is new to me and it’s raining, I am reluctant to ride one-handed.  The route took us through a park and it was lovely.  I relaxed some on the bike, but I was not sure if I would make the cutoff and be allowed to run.  I was pretty sure that with the swim taking as long as it did, I would be disqualified.

I didn’t study the bike course as well as I should have but figured they are always marked so well, I would know what to do when I got there.  I got to another intersection and the person directing people told me to go right, so I did.  Before I knew it, I was back at transition.   Something about that didn’t seem right, it was too fast.  I figured I did not make the cutoff and would be told I was out.  Normally, I would be able to tell how far I had gone on my Garmin, but since the first transition, I had completely messed up in keeping track.  You have to hit a button to let it know, for example, that you headed out on the bike.  I hit the button once I realized I hadn’t, but I have no idea how far I had gone before hitting it.  I looked over and saw Darin and told him I didn’t think I did all 20 miles.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  The race officials were taking numbers down manually, I can only assume that the timer mats were having issues due to being completely soaked.  I expected someone to tell me I was out at any minute, but at the same time I had no idea how far I rode or if the course changed due to rain.  I decided I would head out for the run.  If an official came to me and told me I was out, I would be gracious about it.

I pulled my socks out and realized they were soaked, so I decided to run without them.  I put my wet shoes and race belt on and headed out for the run.  If anything, I figured I would see what my run time was in crappy conditions and call it a day.  I did well on the run with the exception of the salt and sand.  It was all over the place so impossible to keep out of the shoes.  At some points, it felt like little tiny knives cutting into my feet.  I stopped twice to reposition or dust off in certain spots.  At the second water station, I took Gatorade since I knew I didn’t take my electrolyte tabs (they were wet and gooey).   I took a big gulp and immediately regretted it.  It burned so badly going down.  I had swallowed so much salt water that my throat and esophagus was raw.  I took a step back and got water to try to sooth it.  I was relieved to reach the turn around and be headed back.  I used the time to process the bike and knew something was off, but I just wasn’t sure if the rain had caused them to change things.  I kept plugging away at the run, excited to see if I had gotten any faster of a 10k time.  I finished the run feeling ok, except my calf still ached.  I didn’t allow the person to put the medal around my neck.  I took it in my hand and wanted to see the numbers before I called it mine.

I got back to transition and was hoping to find that my clothes to change into hadn’t gotten soaked, but that was not the case.  My transition bag has a certain amount of water proofing but it could not withstand the monsoon that hit.  I would just have to ride home in what I was wearing.  I got the sandy wet sneakers off and sat for a minute.  I packed up all my gear, put my flip-flops on and got up to head home.  My calf immediately disagreed and cramped up again.

Usually after a race, I get changed and we head out for some kind of celebratory meal.  If it ends before lunch, pancakes are on the menu.  I knew today I would be closer to lunch time and had previously envisioned revisiting the zinger mountain melt, or my favorite chicken wings place.  Today, I just wanted to get home and shower.  We headed back to the house to get cleaned up.

So much went wrong and so many things challenged me today, but the funny thing is I had a great time!  It’s totally contradictory to say this, but it was miserable and awesome at the same time.  I gained a lot of self confidence today, and as always, I learned a lot!  If any swim would have justified me quitting, it would have been this one.  I was able to keep my negative thoughts in check.  I was able to push on and move forward.  It took me an hour to do what should have taken 30 minutes, but I got out of the water ready for the next thing.  I didn’t beat myself up.  I knew that it may not be fast, but it was possible.  I still need to learn to be comfortable in the water.  Even if I think I’ve got it, the tide can change in an instant and I need to be so confident in my abilities, that it doesn’t phase me.

When I got to transition and saw that everything was sopping wet, I was crushed.  I could have easily let the negative thoughts pour in, and they tried, but I stopped them and got on the bike and headed out.  I didn’t let myself stop because I was scared of wiping out.  I even passed a few people.  I was terrified the whole time, but never negative.  I learned that I need to get out and ride in the rain more often.  I already knew I still needed to work on my comfort level on the bike, this just reminded me even more of that.

I was proud of my run time.  I had a better 10k time at the end of doing that hour of swimming and whatever biking I did, than I had in a straight up 10k running race.  I am on track with my running and it’s improving.  I couldn’t be more happy about it!

I also learned that I really do love this sport.  I love that it makes me uncomfortable, and challenges me in new ways every time.  I love that I can see progress, not just in things like my run time, but in the fact that I am gaining confidence and the ability to push back negative thoughts and move forward.  I love the sense of family and camaraderie that is felt among everyone in this very individual sport.  My family and friends got absolutely drenched out there.  They could have easily headed home, but they endured their own misery and stayed to cheer me on.  I am loved, and that is one of the best motivators there could be.

I have a couple of foot races scheduled in the coming weeks, so I am focused on recovery (I have to do something about this calf!), and on run endurance.  After that, it is back to square one on swimming and biking and I cannot wait!  My next goal is to confidently crush my time on the Labor Day Sprint Tri, exactly one year from my first triathlon and I know that it is SoPossible’!!!

Update 3/13:  I received reviewed my times posted by the race, and I know for a fact that I did not complete the full bike distance.  I have emailed the race directors, as I don’t want a time on file that is not accurate.  This medal won’t make it to my board, it will sit on the sidelines as a reminder of what I need to work on.  What I came away from with, as a result of this race, is worth so much more.