Just three days after returning from Vineman-a-palooza, I hit the road to Chelan for the ChelanMan multisport weekend -- 200 more miles. But when you are an endurance sport athlete, traveling is part of the package. And so is getting a chance to spend some time with your friends.
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| (From left) Ron Montague, Susie Nieto, myself, Christine Bayless and Mike Bayless, before going forth into battle. |
This past weekend -- July 20-21 -- was a big weekend for triathlon in the Northwest. There were three major events going on: ChelanMan at Lake Chelan, Ironman 70.3 Lake Stevens and SeaFair triathlon in Seattle. Which means it was a big weekend for the Pro Sport Club triathlon team. At ChelanMan, we had 20 athletes competing, with several making their triathlon debut.
My initial plan was to be on cheer committee -- watch, support, cheer, eat pie -- in the warmth of central Washington. However, when a teammate made the call for partners to form a relay team, I figured a mile-long swim wouldn't break me, and more importantly, would give me the opportunity to have some fun. And so Team Thundercats Roar was formed. We weren't about going hard and trying to place -- but rather to give each person a chance to do one leg and simply participate. Yes, triathlon is competition, and placing in your age group is important. But for many, at any given event, it's really just about being part of the day and testing yourself simply against yourself.
So, our lineup was me on the swim, Margie Metzger on the bike and Laura Zeman on the run. No one was focusing on times, just having fun. For me, less than a week out from my half Ironman, it was really still about recovery, so the plan was to just settle into a pace and enjoy the swim.
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| Laura, left, and Margie, right, striking a fetching pose while someone else mugs it up for the camera. Thundercats Roar! |
With temperatures hovering around 100F, Lake Chelan felt wonderful. Glacier-fed, it can be very, very chilly, but this weekend, it was close to 70F. And wonderfully clear. Oh the joy of clean, clear water! After meeting Margie at our transition spot, I squeezed into my wetsuit and waded in to warm up and see if my two-year-old goggles that I mistakenly brought with me were still operation.
It felt wonderful -- the cool water, the gentle motion of moving through water, the power of my stroke as I worked on my catch, the (BAM!) star-inducing pain of swimming head first right into another swimmer's head. Ouch. Big ouch. After shaking my head a few times life the coyote after another mishap with the Road Runner, I waded out and collected my bearings while waiting for my wave start.
After watching my half Ironman friends (Tracey, Mike, Ron, Squido, Scott) begin their race, I positioned myself in the water and awaited the Olympic swim start. At the gun, I started out about mid-pack and felt the draft of the other swimmers pull me out toward the first buoy. I've never felt anything like it before. It really felt effortless -- and showed in my pace for that first 200 yards -- 1:28, a time I have NEVER even kind of approached before in a swim. It was magical. Then the mega-drafting effect faded and it was all about me.
The good news -- I was surrounded by swimmers the whole way (a sign that I am improving in my swimming). The bad news? I was surrounded by swimmers the whole way -- arms slapping onto my head, back, feet, as I dodged kicking legs. It's the challenge of open water swimming -- the contact. It's always important to remember that, by and large, the contact is incidental, not intentional. No need to get upset, just maneuver around the legs and keep to your plan.
At Chelan, that plan was made easier by a rope line under the water that the buoy markers were attached to above the water. In short, it was like following the blue line in the center of a swimming pool lane. No need to pop up to sight. Head down and swim. It was fantastic! All I had to think about was my catch, my pull and not kicking as I counted each 200-yard buzz on my Garmin, telling me how far I had gone. When I heard the eighth (1600 yards), I popped my head up to sight, seeing the big red buoy marking the end of the swim. As I run out of the water and crossed the timing mat, I hit the stop button on my Garmin and ran to give the timing chip to Margie so she could begin her ride. I didn't look at my time. Until after Margie left.
34.12. I couldn't believe it. A full minute faster than Victoria and a PR. I wasn't trying to go fast. I was just trying to relax and enjoy the swim. It made me very happy.
From then on, it was enjoying the accomplishments of everyone else and supporting them.
- Margie, who was nervous about the course, had a great bike ride. And had fun.
- Laura, who is recovering from injuries after a bike crash, was all smiles as she came across the finish after her run, happy to be there amongst friends.
- Guy, who was also recovering from Vineman, crushed his 10K run for his relay team (in which Susie had a great swim and Mike Bayless blazed on the bike), recording a time (50 minutes) that would have put him atop the podium for his age group if he had just run the 10K race.
- Rossen, who completed his very first triathlon, at the Olympic distance no less, with an amazing time.
- Megan, my Vineman traveling companion, winning her age group in the half marathon.
- Mike Marlowe, winning his age group in the half Ironman, without cramping, despite the heat.
- Chris, following her race plan and winning her age group in the Olympic.
- Erica and Janice, all smiles as they brought it home in the Olympic.
- Ron, having the courage to stop after the bike in the half when his stomach told him it had had enough (and believe me, in that race environment, it takes courage and wisdom to stop).
- Tracey, all but Prancercising her way to the finish in the half.
- Squido, still smiling and still moving as he walked up the final hill toward the finish in the half.
- Scott, who became a half Ironman, with a big smile on his face.
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| Squido -- still smiling on the last hill. |
There were many more who competed on Sunday in the sprint (I wasn't able to stay to see them finish, but saw many on the road as I was driving out of town). All on their own journeys, facing the nagging doubts, but pushing through.
Many of my non-triathlon friends seem perplexed by why I put so much time and energy into something that on paper seems incredibly painful, difficult and, occasionally, frustrating.
Because it's incredibly painful, difficult and, occasionally, frustrating. And because of the incredible company I keep.
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| Chris Bayless atop the podium. Look at that smile! |
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