Tri-tips, and no not the steak cut.

The Duck Bill Thrill was a great little race that I did last Sunday.  Not to many frills.  But it had a good course, a friendly announcer, a nice food spread for the finishers and volunteers, and comfy atmosphere for newbies and seasoned pros alike.  But there were a few race faux-pas, oops-e-daisy, come-on-people things that I observed that aren't written anywhere in race rules that make the whole experience a little better.

1)  Have you ever gotten to a race, looked into your bag, and exclaimed, "Oh #$%*, I forgot my ____. "  Among the deal breakers: helmet, cycling shoes, running shoes, wetsuit... (Note: if you consider "my MP3 player" a deal breaker or the reason you didn't race well, it is time to get a life).  One of the people I rode down to the Thrill with made the unfortunate discovery that they had forgotten their cycling shoes at home.  Here's a tip: when you are packing the night before (and it should always be at least the night before any "travel" to the race, be it airplane or car or bicycle if it's a close one) go ahead and set up your transition in your living room.  Once you have completed you task: (1) pant-o-mime running in to transition from the swim, (2) pretend to strip off your wetsuit, goggles, and cap  (or if you are slightly more hardcore and have some time to kill: actually put on your wetsuit, cap and goggles in your living room, take a picture and send it to me), (3)  put on your biking stuff, (4) turn-around in a circle, (5) take a swig from your water bottle (6) remove your biking stuff, (7) put on your shoes, race belt, hat, etc.... (8) go eat some ice cream (9) and put your stuff immediately in your bag.  Not in a pile.  Not everything in the bag but your cycling shoes and helmet.  Everything in the bag (or bags).  Leave something out and it will get left on the floor for the dog to play with.

2) Before you leave transition to go down to the swim start... stand at the "swim in". Look to your transition area, and then run to it. Look down at it and see how it is arranged. Make sure that your bike isn't in the hardest gear. Make sure your helmet strap is unbuckled. I can't count how many times I have heard people say "I lost so much time in transition because I couldn't find/ didn't know/ forgot to". Visualization. Go through the motions. It works.

3)  On the race course, smile (or flash the peace sign) every time you see a camera... even if you are experiencing pain that would drive an ordinary mortal to screaming and abject despair (because let's face it.. triathletes aren't ordinary mortals).  We need to make this sport look good so more people will want to do it.  Plus, it's just more fun.

4)  Know the rules.  Know the course.  They put these nifty little things called "maps" up on almost every race website I have ever seen.  There were people at the Thrill — you know who you are — who didn't know that the swim was two loops.  Please, people, look at the maps.  Read the course description.

5)  Say "thank you" to the volunteers, course marshals, spectators, squirrels, even drivers of cars that cross all the way into the other lane or wait patiently at a left turn.  If you think they can't hear, you smile (see #3) or wave.  It's this crazy sign of universal appreciation.

Last, but not least) If it hurts... and I mean "really, really hurts", stop.  I committed this one.  I could have been smart and just done the swim/bike.  But, I had to run.  I had to win (barely) and I also now have to limp with a crutch because I reinjured my foot and possibly ended my running for another month.  

Seen...

I made the slowtwitch.com photo gallery from Wildflower!  Check it out!

Wildflower Triathlon Race Report

A picture worth a trillion-billion-thousand words.

I have to make this recap a little different from others.  Mostly to protect the innocent.

I'm not going to lie.  I was bitterly disappointed at the time (not the actual "time" though I was disappointed in that, too).  The time (5:06) tells some of the story.  But not all... by a long shot.  I knew going in that a fast time and a high place might be beyond me.  What I got from myself, though, was totally different from what I expected:

Here's what I expected:

A solid swim.

A very strong ride.

A run that might involve a major amount of walking and some major complaining from my plantar fascia.

Here's what I got:

A perfect swim!

I have to ride my bike now? Huh?

Not a peep from the plantar fascia.

The result is that I came out of the swim on eventual 3rd place finisher, Erika Csomor's heels and I was ecstatic.  I mounted the bike quickly and was able to jump ahead of two other women who had come out of the swim at the same time as us.  My first hill climb on the bike was solid.  I settled into aero after that and started to push the pace... and then, nothing happened.  I felt as if I was riding into a major head wind... uphill... into a snow storm... dragging an anchor.  I tried making minor tweaks to my position, getting a little farther forward in the saddle... that was not good for the girls.  I tried focusing on the sexy male age grouper in front of me and matching his pedal stroke.  And then another guy would pass me.... and then another female pro would pass me.  Hmmm... By the time I had climbed Nasty Grade at mile 41, I faced the grim reality that I was literally "off the back" and wondered if I would have the ability to even start the run (feet were to numb to tell if it hurt).

Then I arrived in transition.  I thought about all the people watching.  All the work that Dixie Bousman at TriCalifornia had done to find housing for me (and who is probably prepping for ankle surgery courtesy of a slip in the rain on Friday).  My friends and family who had wished me good luck and might be following the race on the web.  And I couldn't quit.  So, I grabbed a drink from the aid station in transition, reset my watch (as if to reset the race), and headed out on the run with a smile.

And so glad I did!  The people at the aid stations were fantastic.  The fans in the camping area were the best yet.  As I approached the OSU camp site... I hear a spirited, high-pitched voice yell out "Is that Sunny?"  And I got the biggest cheer (thank you Stacey).  Even that final uphill wasn't so bad.  And sprinting into the finish line was truely satisfactory (the crying and dismay over my actual time for the bike leg would come later and pass within 34 hours... just before I got back to Oregon.. but sadly after worrying a few friends and my parents... sorry... I'll call soon).

Important race analysis:  I think I overtrained the bike (trying to make up for the training hours I lost from not being able to run).  I played a few head games with myself while training in the last few weeks... And I wasn't in a good "race place".  Also, I was just having one of those proverbial "off-days".  Unfortunate that it had to come on such a big day... but as the conscience in my ear said (whose voice sounds remarkably like Tribabe's) "It's one race... only way to go from here is up".  True that.  Next stop:  Duck Bill Thrill in two weeks.

The rest of the week-end went something like this:

I caught up with friends (Angie Naeth, Tim Carlson... next year I'm going for that run record), an old roommate (Davin the PTG — Positive Thought Guru — and Kirk), and new coolness (Rachel Sears and Julie Moss... you were major bright spots this week-end).

Also....

Somewhere there are bare-naked CalPoly people (and a few OSU Beavers) running around the campsite!

Role reversal: My turn to cheer for Stacey (left) and Pam in the Olympic distance.

Celebrity siting... go TMNT!