2010: Iron Girl Sprint Triathlon

Headline News: Iron Girl Triathlon Team Sistahood completed the journey on Sunday 8/22/2010 (swim, bike, run) and are now a bunch of Iron Girls... (yes, it rained...thank you for asking!). Woo hoo!!!

And, for those of you who want details....here it is: Iron Girl is a women's only sprint triathlon, held every August in Columbia MD. 2500 triathletes sign up each year - to test their stamina, determination and grit - for an event that can take as little as "just over an hour" for the PRO's....to somewhere over 4 hours for those who want more time exercising.

Leading up to the Iron Girl sprint TRI - is endless training....and eating....and more training. It is an all consuming activity. You train...eat...think about your next training event...get hungry just thinking about it....turn the smallest detail into a training activity...

Our training looks something like this:

8/10/2010: 2 mile run on the Canton/Baltimore waterfront: 95 degrees. In dire need of air conditioning. Note to self....don't run in this heat. Listened to my iPod with a whopping 2 tunes installed (Love Shack and Amadeus). They repeat over and over. Someday I'll add more songs to the run collection

8/15/2010: Open water swim at Gunpower River: winds from southeast - huge waves - could only swim in 1 direction -- WITH the waves. Tami (who is all of 78 pounds...wet) and I did water aerobics against the waves. WTF???? Who's idea was it anyway to swim in this sh@#? (did someone say "Jill")? Jill, Elliot and Tricia had no problems swimming both directions in the tsunami....That's because they are pros. Every time I looked over at Tami she was being tossed around in the waves like a little cork. After that "swim" (or whatever you call what we did in the water!) I wanted to go and run. You know, just be cuz. Nobody else thought this was a good idea. I gave Jill the stinkeye, and Tami eventually caved. We did 3 measly laps around the parking lot to make up for the lack of quality swimming in the brown lake. After all of this nonsense...we headed to the diner to devour omelette's and short stacks. Food makes everything better.

8/16/2010: Pool swim. I brought my new fancy smanchy watch to help me count laps...but then I forgot to press the button each time I did a lap. The one time I did remember to press the lap button on the watch....I sucked down a lot of water - so decided knowing the number of laps wasn't that important. A man hopped in my lane after 30 min...He must be new to the pool. With my ultra wide kick...rarely does a man dare to jump in my lane and risk bodily injury...

8/19/2010: Last chance open swim workout at Gunpowder River: Just a few days b4 IronGirl - and needed a good vibe in the open water swim practice. Swim buddy Jill and I briefly read the warning post at the shoreline. Something about severe water contamination...b careful w/open wounds...and better not swallow any of the water - or you will notice a 3rd eye growing on your forehead. We should have headed back to our cars...but we got in the water anyway. I think the Purdue chicken farms got flooded upstream. The river is filled with feathers...and more things I don't want to think about. Jill swam laps around me....I got tangled in seaweed...and managed to finish 1200 meters despite many thoughts about the nasty water.

The training season is now over, and it is Iron Girl weekend. This is where the bacon hits the grease, the sh@# hits the fan....or Tami just bakes us a bunch of cookies. IG weekend starts out with a mandatory shopping spree. It is a very well organized event. First you pickup your race packet with bib numbers....and then you sachet through a maze of vendors with anything and everything an exercise girl could want....but doesn't really need. Don't that that "need" factor stop you from buying tho....and there we were - bags bulging with new tshirts, post exercise dresses...and more spandex. Someone has to stimulate the US eco.

Saturday afternoon arrives - and it is now time to rack our bicycles....check out the transition area....and closely inspect the buoys in the water. Team Jill-Holly-Tami and I find our bike numbers amidst the 2500 bikes that are preassigned on large metal racks. We spend another 20 minutes staring at the surroundings trying to locate something "unique" that will alert us to finding our bike during the event. Tami's bike is next to a tree....Holly is a few rows from Tami's tree....and Jill and I are side by side near some bright orange cones. How hard can it be to find the orange cones?

Next stop....a quick view of Centennial Lake - the swim course. The finish line is dotted with bright orange buoys quite close together. This is a good thing - because one surely doesn't want to get lost in the weeds while trying to get out of the water. At the swim start - a huge white buoy marks the beginning of the course. The swim course takes you close to shore in an "outbound" direction - keeping a close eye on some yellow buoys. Two bright red buoys mark the "turnaround" point, and then you head straight back on the opposite side of the lake - keeping your eye on a new set of yellow buoys, around the island...and to the finish line.

From our vantage point on shore - the swim distance looked quite long. I wonder how they measure up 1100 meters in the Centennial Lake? Jill, Holly and Elliot are busy discussing their swim strategy. They will get right up in the pack of swimmers, breathe bilateral, check their heartbeats to make sure they are in the 'zone', stay tight to the buoys, and swim past the crowd with their special dolphin kick to the finish line. Yeah right. Tami and I worked out a very different strategy. We would wait 10 seconds after the swim wave starts so that the peeps get out in front of us, stay far away from the buoys, far from the other swimmers, hope the kayaks would keep a close eye on us, and Tami would stay to my left so that we could always see each other. OK, so we might be swimming some extra mileage out there...

After spending another hour looking at the transition from every imaginable angle, we decided it was time to move-on from being overly neurotic - and get some food. Barbecue and a slumber party was part of the evening plan -- the night before Iron Girl.

Jill wanted us to arrive in Centennial Park at 2AM so that she could get the first available parking spot. The slumber party IG's (Holly, Jane, Tami) successfully vetoed this idea - and we arrived in Centennial Park at 5AM. We were one of the first 25 cars to arrive on site.

Along with the rain.

Possibly thunder and lightening.

For Tami and I, a little thunder-n-lightening could be some very welcome news. Especially, if it were to force the race organizers to abandon the swim portion of the TRI....and turn it into a run-bike-run. This wouldn't be a bad thing. Jus say'n.

But no such luck. We proceeded back to the transition area - with bike shoes, helmets, running shoes, towels and whatever else seemed necessary to get us from one leg of the event...to the next. It's still dark at 5AM - so it is a bit hard to see. I'm hoping that I pumped up the tires on my bike - and not someone elses.

By the time we finished setting up our transition space in the dark, got body marked, made a few trips back to the car, and waited in very long lines for the porta-potties....it is now time to meander over to the swim start. Holly gets in the water with her swim wave at 6:45 - and she swims like a fish out of the gate. Jill, Tami and I move with the herd of pink swim cap ladies toward the waterline. Our wave starts at 6:55AM - and it seems that these women can't wait to get in the water. Tami and I get in the water up to our knees....and wait. Jill tries to coax us further, without much luck. Finally the race officials insist that we move further into the water. OK now....you don't have to be so pushy. We'll start swimming when we have to.

The gun goes off....and we watch Jill glide effortlessly through the water. That's what swimming is supposto look like. I had counted to 6....(out of 10)...and Tami was getting impatient. She suggested we might want to start before the next swim wave gets in the water. Oh - ok. And we're off.

I can assure you - there were NO swimmers on the outside perimeter of Centennial Lake. Occasionally, someone on a kayak a few feet from me - was saying something. With an earplug in one ear -- I'm hearing impaired - so his conversation was one directional. But, I got the idea...these were the moments where Tami and I had ventured too far off course. Tami was swimming strong - and I had my work cutout for me -- to keep up. Tami swims freestyle, and occasionally does some breast stroke. She swims at a perfectly choreographed cadence, one that was passed down to her from her older sister Beth. I swim using the 1-sided-breast-stroke-lurch. It's a variation of the side stroke, breast stoke and butterfly - and I'm fairly certain it will be considered as an Olympic event - soon. In case you want to try this in your pool - you basically swim on ONE side (right)...propel outta the water (like the breast stroke) - but only on one side....and occasionally fly outta the water when attacked by seaweed. It is probably the most energy inefficient stroke available to mankind - but if you work at - you'll get yourself a fine workout.

Slowly...we passed buoys. One at a time... and eventually rounded the red buoys - which meant we can start swimming to the finish line. Tami and I were focused on our swim....but always keeping an eye on each other. Tami would call out to me to swim closer to her - when I started weaving to the lily pads. And I would yell "watch out Tam" - when a swimmer came up behind Tami. I didn't want my girlfriend to get mowed over....we needed our swim space. Before you knew it....we had reached land. Tami and I stood and hugged. We had done it. The swim is now behind us...and we're feeling real good.

We run up the hill to the transition area... Where are those landmarks? The tree? the orange cones? Tami can't see a thing without her prescription glasses - which she is not wearing. She is busy running circles around the transition area - and I can't seem to locate those friggin orange cones. I eventually found my bike....and Tami located her tree. Whew.

Jill and Holly were long gone from the transition area - and the rain was now coming down in buckets. This should be fun. Tami and I take the first 20 minutes of the bike ride at a much slower than normal pace. Not sure how the bikes will react to slick roadways - and we don't really want to find out. Slow is fine. For awhile anyway.

Ms. Madone, true to form - cannot hold herself back on an uphill. We easily fly past 30 bikers... And then, the dreaded downhill. Ms. Madone - who has not been herself this year - slows to a crawl to avoid the noodle affect. It's better to be safe...than fast....so we watch all of the peeps barrel past us. Including Tami. "See ya Tam on the uphill" - I yell out. "Ok girlfriend - you rock" she replies as she whizzes by.

5 miles into the course, the rains had stopped...and the big pools of water on the roads were dissipating. Ms. Madone catches back up to all the downhill speedy bikers....who are now tiring on the uphills. And so we go....fast uphill....slow downhill....for the remainder of the bike race. And with the sheer volume of bikers on the roads....Tami and I became separated.

I returned to the transition area having successfully not fallen off my bike (due to slippery conditions or to the dreaded bike noodle)....and was pumped up to be starting the run. Not because I'm an exceptional runner or anything....but because I knew the end of all of this crazy exercising was near.

One problem...I can't find my rack#. Did someone move those orange cones? Finally...there it is. I whipped on my running shoes....and bolted out onto the running course. Running....after you have swam 6/10ths of a mile...and raced on your bike for 17.5 miles...isn't exactly easy. For the first 1/2 mile, you contend with leg mush. This is where you put weight on a leg...and it turns to mush. You spend your energy trying to talk your legs into behaving like a runner - but they just don't listen. An iPOD would be handy (with my 2 favorite tunes) right about now...but the race officials won't allow. With an iPOD, at least I wouldn't have to listen to my own heavy breathing. You know you are breathing scary, when people ahead of you look back, eyes wide, mouth open and JUMP to the sidelines out of your way.

As I descend Heartbreak hill....I see Jill - ahead of me, looking strong. "You rock Sissy" Jill yells out...."No YOU rock Fluffy" I yell back....and she is long gone. Ahead of me is a para triathlete - who is doing an incredible job running with one leg, and one prosthesis. As I pass her, I greet her with "you are such an inspiration girlfriend"....I find myself suddenly very emotional. This woman really is - an inspiration. I vow not to bellyache about my breathing, or how tired I might be feeling. At least I can refrain from bellyaching for the next 10 minutes!

With a mile to go on the run course - I cross paths with Tami - who has not even broken a sweat on the run. She breaks out into a huge smile and we give each other some encouraging words. Jill crosses the finish line first with an amazing blazing time of 2hr 16 min, Elliot and I cross the finish in 2hr 22 min....Tami 2 hr 29min....and Holly well under 3 hours. Considering that Holly had to become a professional bike mechanic on the fly (her bike became possessed - and her chain popped off twice) -- she showed what she is made of. Pure grit.

Many many thanks to our support team of Chuck, Paddy, Jim, Rick & Linda, and Dave who braved the wee early hours and rainy weather - to cheer us on, make us laugh and walk at least 5 miles to watch us from every vantage point. And special thanks to Paddy (who did his first TRIrelay this year), joined the gym to be my workout partner, and believes that I can swim in open water - long before I believed it....and Chuck (who also did his first TRIrelay this year)- who never misses an opportunity to support Fluffy, Sissy and everyone else in the periphery. xoxoxoxoxo

Moving forward....we have a new recruit to the TRI-family. Hellooooo Linda - let the fun begin!

It's all about Heart

In 1978, my friend Minh, escaped from Vietnam on an over sized rowboat. It took a huge leap of faith for Minh to step into that "rowboat" and head out to sea. There were no life vests aboard - and Minh did not know how to swim.

Today, Minh would face her fear of the water head on. Determined to learn to swim at the age of 50 - it is showtime. July 25, 2010 - the day of the Hagerstown Maryland Sprint Triathlon. Minh is poised at the edge of the pool. Will she be able to swim and overcome her fear of the water?

In order to appreciate Minh's fierce determination - let me first share with you Minh's story -- in her words:

Minh's Story

I was born and grew up in Dalat, a small resort town up in the Lang Bian mountain, with an elevation of about 1,500m, 300km north west of Saigon, where I lived until May 1978, when my family fled Vietnam on a small fishing boat – about 6ft by 20ft, with 17 people on board – 9 in my family, 2 family friends, 2 fishermen and their family.

We left Vietnam via the Cam Ranh bay on May 18 sometimes after midnight when it was pouring rain. It was very frightening for me, a then 17 year old girl, who didn’t know how to swim, to wade out to the boat in chest high water in the dark pitch of the night, compounded by fears of getting caught by the coast guards and sent to jail for trying to escape. Each of us had to carry our supplies of water, gasoline, and food too.

All of us cramped into to hull of the boat, covered in fishing net when the boat left the harbor. We headed straight out to the South China Sea, in hope of getting rescued by those big ships that we saw when we got to the international water. But none stopped for us even when we sent out the distress signal. After 5 days, we ran out of water, food, and had a little bit of gasoline left, so the fishermen decided to let the boat afloat. It rained a little bit and we caught some water using a piece of tarp. The fishermen caught some fishes too, but most of my family members and our friends were very weak by then, due the dehydration and sea sickness.
Desperation set in on May 23rd, when we didn’t see any ship for the whole day.

Around 4 o’clock that afternoon, we caught sight a small vessel ahead of us. The fishermen turned on the boat engine and chased after the ship. When we came up along side of the ship, their crew thought we were pirates, so they were yelling at us, wielding their big fishing spears. My father screamed for us to get up from the hull. After seeing us women and children, they put down the weapons and threw some ropes over to our boat. They were from Taiwan and one of them, the cook, spoke a little English. We were very lucky that they were following a school of fishes and veered off course and were going pretty slow for us to catch up to them. After giving us some food, water, and one can of gasoline – they were low on gasoline too so couldn’t give us a lot - they pointed us toward the coast of Indonesia while they went the opposite way.

Around 8 o’clock that night, a big storm gathered on our left and coming fast at us. The cloud was so black and lightening was everywhere. The fishermen were screaming and cursing in panic and we all thought that was the end for us. The big waves and rain had started to come in when we caught sight of the Taiwanese boat again. They had turned around when they saw the storm coming. They stayed on our left side to block us from the storm. I still remember those big waves. One minute there was a big black wall of water in front of me that I thought would smash into our boat, the next I was on top of one, looking down at the dark pit of water below me. The storm had passed quickly but it seemed to me like a very very long time.

When the sky cleared and the waves calmed down, we bid farewell to our rescuers one more time. The cook jumped down to our boat, crying, handed us a piece of paper with his name and address – which I kept and wrote him a letter when we first came to the US – more on that later.

At dawn the next day, we came to one of the most beautiful beaches I had ever seen off the coast of Indonesia. The people there let us came on shore to rest, and gave us one of the most delectable food I had ever tasted. Since they didn’t have any refugee camp in the area, they gave us some more gasoline, water, and food and showed us the way to Kuching, the capital of the East Malaysian state of Sarawak, where we stayed for 3 months in the refugee camp that was setup on a deserted strip of land on the bay near Kuching.

It was there where I was almost drowned one day when I went along with some kids to take a bath in the river. I was holding on to the side of one of the boats left on shore by us, the people who came to the refugee camps, when the tide rose so quickly I lost my footing. I could still see the sun fading as I sank down to the bottom of the river, holding my breath at first, then inhaling water, choking. I don’t remember how long I stayed there until someone caught me by my arms and brought me up to the surface. I vaguely remembered being slapped in the back and I was coughing so hard it felt like I couldn’t get any air in.

After that episode, I became panic every time I got near the water. I still have nightmare about being in the ocean at night. I’ve tried to take swimming lesson a few times since we came here in the US, but I every time, I had to quit after the first day because I couldn’t get over the fear even though I wanted so much to know how to swim. When we went to the beach or the swimming pool, the most I could do was standing in the water at thigh high, and every time I saw my family had fun in the water, I wished I could join them.

It was until the end of last year that I made a vow to myself that I had to learn how to swim before I turned 50. I signed up for a lesson at the community pool last November and went through 4 sessions where we learned to blow bubbles and float on our back and front in the kiddie pool. I finished the class without much improvement. Signed up for the next one at the community college where the instructor was like a drill sergeant. I don’t know how many gallons of pool water I had shallow in that class and still had not been able to swim except to float on my back and front crawl a few feet. I have to admit that I had been able to jump down to the deep end of the pool once (12 feet I think), when the instructor forced us to. I was coughing and choking when I came up to the surface and was so freaked out, but I survived!

The breakthrough for me came when my good friend decided to take on the big task of teaching me how to swim. Something in the way that she showed me how to breath under water, how to move my body so I would glide instead of sinking, how I turned my head to breath to the side, made it so easier for me to learn.

When my 50th birthday came in June 2010, I was able to swim free style the length of the regular pool without stopping! I had sign up to do the swimming part in a relay sprint triathlon on July 25 - and now needed to swim 6 laps in a row. I've never done this before.



Sunday - July 25, 2010. It was another typical Maryland day. Sweltering heat in the 90s. Unrelenting humidity. Jill (driving at warp speed), Chuck and I arrived at the Hagerstown Sprint Triathlon at the wee hours of the morning - well before daybreak. Jill and I were entered in the triathlon - but today would not be about our accomplishments. Today was about Minh and her family. My bro Chuck is part of the "race crew" and heads to the registration desk to report in for 'volunteer duties'.

Minh and her family arrive. Minh is understandably nervous. She has never swam in a competition before - and has the added pressure of being a swimmer in a triathlon relay. If she doesn't finish her swim 'leg'....then her relay team will not have the opportunity to participate. Her relay team, includes hubby Trung on the bike, and son Bach as the runner. Her daughter Lamie - will be attempting her first individual triathlon. Minh's determination to learn to swim - has inspired her entire family - to TRI.

The first wave of swimmers - are the elite men. You know, the guys who are super speedy in their super speedos. They are out of the water in less than 5 minutes. The next wave of swimmers are the elite women. I don't know what these ladies eat for breakfast - but I could use some of "that" in my diet. The swimming pool is completely churned up as the elite women power through 300 meters in the same time it would take me to do 2 laps.

The relay teams are next in line. This includes 9 super charged men...and our Minh. I watch in amazement as Minh remains undaunted by the field of swimmers that she is pitted with. Jill and I, along with Lamie, Bach and Trung stand on the sidelines - and I'm guessing that we are just as nervous as Minh. Well...maybe not. We can't see Minh's face - but she is about to put on her game. She steps toward the water...and taps the lane official on the shoulder. "You might want to take a nap" Minh explains to the man...."It's gonna be a long swim for me". The lovely man smiled, and assured her she could take all the time she needed. Leave it to Minh to charm the men.

The relay swimmers are OFF. The water is churned up with 9 serious manly swimmers creating what looks like a pool tsnaumi. Minh struggles to get air, but keeps working on getting to the end of the lane. We stand on the sidelines...and send her telepathic messages "One length at a time Minh...you can do this". Minh completes her first lap. On her second lap, she falters. Freestyle is much harder with all of the waves created by the power swimmers. There are no wake barriers between the lanes...and the pool is ultra choppy. Minh tries swimming on her back...but struggles even more. We yell to her from the sidelines "COME ON MINH YOU CAN DO THIS!".

People standing near us....wanted to know Minh's story. So here it is. Minh didn't need our screams from outside the pool deck that day. Minh would dig deep. Just like she did in 1978 when her family left Vietnam.

As we stood in the crowd of swimmers on deck....suddenly Minh appeared OUT of the water. Her face was BEAMING as she rushed toward us. We stood there hugging and crying. Minh had done it. While many first timers would have been intimidated to be in a pool with such strong athletes, Minh was undaunted. She finished swimming her 300 meters - and there wasn't a dry eye among her support team. Trung was now on the road - pedal to the metal on his bicycle - and Bach was standing by waiting for Trung daddio to return.

It is now time for the run - and we cross paths with Bach - who is just finishing his last 1/2 mile. He's in the shady section - and ready to complete the event for TEAM MINH. Bach is looking fresh - and has barely broken a sweat.

Lamie is less than 1/2 mile behind us and running as if she could run all day. Jill and I are busy applying cold bandanas...and counting the steps to the finish line. In this heat, it can't come soon enough. Lamie races over the finish line - hands stretched high overhead - and with energy to spare.

Knowing her incredible journey, today was a huge day for Minh, and her family. Triathlons are more than athletic achievements. It is more than how fast you go, or where you place. It is bigger than simply competing with others or yourself. Triathlons are like the fairy godmother of infectious diseases .... camaraderie ...encouragement ...courage.... determination... inspiration. Minh - not only learned to swim, but she dug deep, conquered some very deep rooted fears of the water, and finished her first swim event. She inspired her family to be a part of her day. And she inspired countless more in the process. I'm pretty sure we'll be seeing Minh as a regular on the triathlon circuit.

The Piseco Lake Triathlon

It is 6:30AM, and Paddy and I are busy prepping for the Piseco Lake Triathlon. Paddy remarks this would be a good sailing day. Translation -- it's windy. The wind gods were ignoring my pleas for calm waters. As we sat on the campsite picnic table - looking out over the waterfront - there was no mistaking that sound. The sound of waves lapping the shoreline - one right after another. I saw whitecaps build on the lake. I’m not sure I can do an open water swim in whitecap conditions. I'm not even sure I can do an open water swim in calm conditions... I start thinking of better ways to spend my day rather than attempt this open water swim. But, this TRI is not simply a "jane pursuit" today -- I had convinced Paddy to join me as a relay team. We would be the "Team TRI -- Jane and Paddy". I would do the swim and bike -- and Paddy would complete the 3rd leg in the event -- the walk or jog to the finish. We are a team. I had to at least...TRY. Paddy was counting on me.

Paddy and I hop on our bicycles - for a 4 mile ride from our campsite, to the Irondequoit Inn. We could have driven the monster RV - but it didn't seem right to move the beast once it had nestled into our campsite. The Irondequoit Inn is a bed and breakfast, that sits overlooking Piseco Lake at the northern tip. It has a tennis court, sprawling land with fabulous views, and a soft sandy beachfront. The Irondequoit Inn is hosting the start of the triathlon - the swim portion. Perhaps the water would appear less lumpy from the beachfront? I had high hopes for calm "seas".

Paddy is happy to be done with the hilly bike ride from the campsite. He takes a rest at the top of the hill, while I head to the water to study the swim course. I'm hesitant to register for the TRI, until I have a chance to see the swim course close up. I've only done 3 open water swims prior to this event -- and in each case I had a personal swim buddy (or buddies) near my side. Today, I would be by myself. I stare at the course. A line of buoys runs parallel to the shoreline. I make a few mental notes. I could swim to shore if I get in a panic. The winds and waves have increased. There is no denying it - the water is choppy.

One lone race official is busy prepping the swim exit chutes. I ask him a zillion questions. The little people in my head want to know many things. "Is the water over my head" I asked. "Yes - at least 10 feet" he assured me -- as if I was hoping that he would say "yeah - it's nice and deep for you". The direction of the a quarter mile swim is out-and another quarter mile back. You follow a line of buoys into the waves and wind then turn around and swim with the wind and waves on the way back to shore.. The official assured me there would be big pontoon boats 300 yards apart for the swimmers to grab. In case you need a rest. He assured me there would be plenty of kayaks and canoes for swimmer support. It all sounded well organized. I'm still not sure I can do this -- but Paddy and I decide to go and register anyway.

Paddy and I hopped back on our bikes – for a 1/2 mile ride to the Piseco Lake Airport. Registration for the TRI occurs here - at the Piseco Airport grounds. We filled out a form, handed over some moolah – and signed up as a team. There it is. In print. I would do the swim and bike, and Paddy would do the walk / jog.

The Piseco Lake Triathlon is a unique Triathlon. Not that I am worldly when it comes to triathlons - but I have done a few. Here in the Adirondacks, they do not use official “race chips” to automatically time the participants. There are no bike numbers or running bib numbers. As a matter of fact - there are no paper numbers at all. No numbers except the numbers you are body-marked with. The theory is -- once you enter or exit each leg of the event - you loudly call out your number to the race official. This is how they keep track of you. I love it. Very low-tech. Very Adirondack.

As we handed the registration form to the race official, the nice lady gave me a green post-it sticky with the number C-42. This is our team number. C-42. We are instructed to take the green postit sticky marked C-42 to the body marking lady – and she will write our number on our arms and legs. Body marking is the only way for the race officials to know who you are. Paddy and I now have C-42 written all over our arms and legs. I think this means we are officially registered.

Now mind you - nobody handed us a map, or any instructions for the Piseco Lake Triathlon. Just the little green post it sticky with our number - C42. I assumed that was all we needed to know.

Paddy and I hopped back on our bicycles - and rode back to the Irondequoit Inn. There are no bike racks...no "personal space" that is marked only for you. Just find a spot on the lawn or tennis court - and leave your bike there. This is how the Piseco Lake Triathlon works. You pick a spot in the sand - any ol' spot will do. So Paddy and I left our bikes near the tennis court fence.

I look around at the other bikes, and note some very serious athletes here. Some bikes were equipped with $5000 bike wheels on top of fancy $5000 bike frames. These bikers must know how to ride in nearly "off road" conditions on a race bike. I had already opted NOT to use Ms. Madone for this event. Why? Not because I’m mad at Ms Madone for becoming a noodle during my last 2 triathlons. Not because we’ve had words. Instead, the roads around Piseco lake seem more like a dirt trail, rather than smooth pavement. Huge potholes, gravel and lots of road dugouts. The old Trek jalopy (i.e. Mr. Huffy Puffy) with the big fat wheels will be my bike of choice today. Mr. Huffy won’t be anywhere near as fast as Ms. Madone – but he is much better equipped to handle the terrain.

Riding Mr. Huffy simplifies the equipment needs too. No special clip on shoes are required, I can just wear my running sneakers. Paddy is busy holding on to a coffee mug, my swim goggles and swim cap, smoking a pre-Triathlon cigarette and proudly displaying his body marks – C42. This is his way of getting psyched up. We head down to the beach. Other triathletes have gathered and it is becoming quite a crowd.

Other swimmers are commenting on the lake conditions. Most of the chatter revolves around how “choppy” the lake is. The winds have picked up, and I’m having many self doubts. The little people in my head are chatting nonstop about how rough the water has become. It’s time to tone down the little people. I look at the pontoon boats who are now in position along the swim course. I discuss strategy with my team – Paddy. “I think I can make it between pontoon boats – so I just have to swim from boat to boat.” Plus,, there are lots of support boats swarming around. “I think I can do this” I finally said to Paddy. "I think I can do this". Paddy nods in agreement. He hopes the swim starts soon so he doesn't have to listen to my incessant anxiety over the open water swim.

The official with the megaphone announces it is time to get in the water. We all get in the water at once. A big crowd lurches forward. There are no swim waves, no organization of swimmers….just everyone gets in the water at the same time. Of course I linger back. Way back. If I stayed any further back - I would be standing on shore. Every other swimmer is far ahead of me. The whistle blows….and the bodies surge forward into the water. It is pretty shallow at the start – so we get to walk along ways in the water before we need to start swimming. There is no turning back now.

I am the very last swimmer into the water by a long shot, and I’m hoping that all of the support boats take notice. My message is keep a close eye on me OK? I start swimming. So far so good. No panic, I’m just breathing and getting into a rhythm. I make it to the first pontoon boat no problem – and consider continuing on to the next pontoon boat without stopping. On second thought it is a bit of a distance to the 2nd pontoon boat. I stop for a moment and catch my breath.

It is a LOT harder than I thought. That is, swimming into a headwind, and waves. Due to the curve in the shoreline, the further out into the lake I swam, the the bigger the waves. I’m doing my best to stay on top of the waves – but it isn’t working too well. The waves run close together, and they are breaking over me. I just need to get to the next pontoon boat. That's my only thought. I am actually passing other swimmers. Pretty rare for me – and I only hope that the support boats are still paying attention.

I arrived at the 2nd pontoon boat – and now I’m breathing hard. Not because I’m panicked, but it is VERY hard swimming in these conditions. Head wind, and waves crashing over your face - unrelenting. This makes my swimming pool practice sessions seem like easy-peasy. But it's time to let go of the pontoon boat, and head for the next one. A particularly big wave crashes over me and I suck down a bunch of Piseco Lake. For a moment, I panicked. I called out loudly for help. And immediately flipped on my back to try to relax. Get a grip Jane. I don’t need help….I can do this. The big people in my head are in charge of the little people now – and I can do this. I did the back stroke for awhile and this was much easier. Somehow, I made it to the last outbound pontoon boat.

I meet up with a fellow triathlete swimmer - who is clinging on to the final pontoon boat. “Are you ok?” he asks. “Yeah” I reply. “Just need to catch my breath”. He responds – “Come on darlin – you and I will do this together”. At that point, we exchanged names. Meet Hank. My new swim buddy. Hank leads the way to the final orange buoy, and I follow obediently. Hank yells out to one of the support boats -- "keep a close eye on us ok?". Hank encourages me to keep swimming. Suddenly - I was no longer alone. Along with another pokey swimmer in our proximity (Joe) and a lady who was too tired to tell us her name….we had become a uniquely bonded swim team of 4. The final 4 swimmers in the Piseco Lake Triathlon who are in the water longer than anyone else, and pretty damned determined to complete the swim. From this point - until we reached the shoreline, we would be looking out for each other.

I rounded the final orange buoy in the outbound direction. Hallelulah. We can now turn around and head back. Finally we are swimming WITH the waves and the wind – and it is SOOO much nicer. Our team of 4 - swam from pontoon boat to pontoon boat – together. Here is how it went down. We would all decide we were "ready" to depart from one pontoon boat - and swim to the next. Usually I was the first to arrive at a pontoon boat (go figure that?!)....and I wasted no time locating the swim ladder to hang onto - and catch my breath. Technically, I was feeling pretty good at this point, but I wasn't going to leave my new friends behind. “Hank – over here – I’ve got a swim ladder with your name on it”, and Hank would always replay “Jane – you’re the best, I’ll be rite there”. Then I would yell – “How are you doing Joe” – and he would check in as well. After a few seconds of rest at the pontoon boat – Hank would ask if we are ready to keep going…and despite how tired any of us felt – we always replied “ yeah - lets do it”.

This scene repeated itself from one pontoon boat to the next….and finally Hank yelled out to me “Jane – you can stop swimming now – we can stand up”. Music to my ears and sure enough I could stand. Our little team of 4 had made it – and we were bonded through the remainder of the TRI. We were smiling now, with high-fives all around. It was an incredibly satisfying moment standing on the beach….having conquered the high winds and waves.

Paddy patiently waits for me to wipe the sand off my feet - and stuff my bare feet into my sneakers. Paddy's turn is soon coming. We trot up the hill together from the beach…to the tennis court – where Mr. Huffy Puffy is waiting. I hop on, only to discover that the seat position is set for someone with a height of Michael Jordan. I never realized Paddy was so tall? This won’t work – I can’t reach the pedals. I hop off…and spend a few minutes adjusting the seat height. Off I go.

Since I am at, or nearly at dead last – I wonder if I’ll see any bikers at all. Especially riding on Mr. Huffy. Three miles later – my wish came true. I see a biker who is body marked. A fellow triathlete. I realize I’m riding Mr. Huffy – who is a magnitude of 10 times slower than Ms. Madone – but I can’t resist chasing a bicycle. Even on Mr. Huffy. Mr. Huffy and I quickly pass the first biker…and I begin thinking there are more cyclists ahead. Soon I pass a group of 5….then more and more appear. Mr. Huffy and I are super excited to be back with a pack of athletes – and not at the end. I’m guessing that I passed between 30-40 bikers. The vibe is tremendous along the bike route. Piseco Lake residents are out cheering us on – and there are race organizers everywhere - all busy writing down your number as you go past. I'm not really sure if I'm supposto - but I yell out "C42" every time I see someone "official". In case they need to know.

As I near the turn to head back to the Irondequoit Inn – the road becomes a buzz with race officials and volunteers yelling out frantically to the cyclists – to “go to your right”. Hmmm…this can’t be correct – as I know that my next turn to get back to the Irondequoit Inn (where Paddy is patiently waiting) is to go to my left. Maybe I have to go around some little road for more mileage?

Nope. We are herded into a parking lot at at the Piseco Lake Elementary school. I notice well over 100 bikes just laying about across a field. What’s going on here? Then I see a sign – pointing to the exit for the runners. What? I’m nowhere near the Irondequoit Inn – and Paddy is waiting for me to hand off the invisible “wand” so that he can be the 3rd leg of the triathlon. Nobody told us that the bikers would NOT be returning to the Irondequoit Inn where we started the swim. Instead – we have to start the run leg from a completely different location.

Back at the Irondequoit, Paddy is becoming the information hot line for triathlon spectators. “When will the athletes be returning here” – peeps would ask Paddy. “Soon….the bikers will come back here – and then the runners will take off” - Paddy confidently advised. Tho it sure is strange, Paddy thought -- "surely ONE biker should have returned by now". But, Paddy patiently waits – and tells others to do the same. “They’re coming” he insists.

I drop my bike like all others (at any ol spot in the field) at the Piseco Elementary school, whip off my helmet…and start running. This is crazy. What if I had ridden Ms. Madone with my special clip on bike shoes. I would not have been able to run (or walk) in these. What about Paddy? He is waiting for me back at the Irondequoit Inn! I assumed that the transition area was back where we started???

Despite the confusion…I had my cell phone with me. I called Paddy and simultaneously started to run toward the Piseco Airport. I'm breathing pretty hard cuz I just biked Mr. Huffy into the ground and passed 40 bikers to give us a shot of not being last - and Paddy can't understand a word of what I'm saying. I keep repeating myself. “I don’t know what’s going on – but they had us start the run from a completely different spot” I panted. “You have to leave the Irondequiot Inn now…and walk past the airport until you see me” I instructed Paddy - who was every bit as clueless about this transition from the bike to run – as I. “Just start walking…and we’ll meet up in the middle”.

Paddy trots like a bat-outta-hell…and is walking with big long strides. Beads of sweat form at his forehead....and his t-shirt is beginning to resemble a sponge. Neither of us know what the heck just happened to the transition area…but for some reason – in the Adirondacks, a triathlon means there are 3 separate locations where you can end up. The lady forgot to write this on the green postit sticky with C-42. The first location is at the lake (Irondequoit Inn). The second location is as the Piseco Elementary School – where you ditch your bike anywhere….and start running toward the 3rd location – the Piseco Airport. Oh my.

My swim buddy Hank (who I passed on the bike) – had caught up to me on the run. We shared more high-5s and cheered each other on. We will probably never see each other again - but I can assure you we are tri-buddies for life. I wasn’t planning on running today – and my focus was finding my teammate Paddy - so that he could have his glory moment. And there he is….in his unmistakable orange t shirt. Hustling his butt to complete the 3rd leg in our team relay. I must say, I have never seen Paddy walk this fast. There was a genuine giddyup in his stride, and he was sweating bullets.

As we made our way along Old Piseco Road toward the Piseco Airport – finally a large group of race organizers were in sight – marking the finish line. “What do you think Paddy – should we run in the last 20 feet together” I asked. “How much is 20 feet” Paddy inquired, clearly tired, yet determined to make a good finish. As we got closer – the triathletes who had already finished – were actively cheering in those of us yet to reach the finale. “Come on Paddy – lets run it in”….and with my prodding, the peer pressure of the cheering crowd – and the excitement of the moment -- there was no stopping Paddy. He jogged across that finish line – as we held hands high for a spectacular moment for Team C42.

Paddy had done it. He completed his first triathlon relay event - and he was clearly diggin' the endorphins. We headed straight to the food tent – and discovered they were serving homemade ice cream. I absolutely love this triathlon. Ok - there was a bit of confusion over multiple transition areas - but that can be long forgotten with some homemade ice cream.

It is now our turn to be supportive spectators. We wait, watch and cheer on the remaining triathletes as they cross over the finish line. Paddy and I - team C42 were FAR from last place…and we spent the next 45 minutes cheering peep after peep.

Our triathlon day is not over yet - there is more exercise on the agenda. It’s time to retrieve our equipment – which by now is spread in 2 separate locations. I opt to head back to the Eleementary School and grab Mr. Huffy. It will be a 3 mile walk…but I’ll get there eventually. Paddy heads back to the Irondequoit Inn – for another mile of walking – to grab Ms. Madone. We agree to reconvene at the Irondequoit Inn.

Fortunately for me, a fellow triathlete driving her pickup truck along Old Piseco Road -- offers to give me a ride. How delightful. I found Mr. Huffy lying in the field at the Piseco Elementary School– right where I left him – and rode him back to meet up with Paddy. Here we traded bikes. I was reunited with Ms. Madone – and Paddy is back with Mr. Huffy. Paddy and I road our bikes along the remaining 4 hilly miles back to the campsite.

The day was classic Adirondack magic. We are in the heart of the beautiful, tranquil Adirondack Park, where the temperatures are in the upper 70's and the vibe is fantastic. Paddy completes his first EVER relay triathlon. He did it. He hustled. And finished strong. And if the TRI athletics weren’t enuf, he rides his bike on hilly Adirondack miles - just to show up at the event.

That new giddyup in his step....lasted the rest of the weekend. Rock on Paddy. As for me, there were 4 people who had to be pulled from the water that day. 4 people who did NOT complete the swim. And I wasn’t one of them.

Curly's CREW sizzles in the intense heat of the Celebration TRI

Mother nature insists on being HOT. We knew it would be a scorcher - with temperatures reaching 100 degrees and the humidity unbearable. It's RACE DAY for the Celebration Sprint Triathlon...and best not to dwell on the heat... We can easily find other details to dwell on!

Such as "pond scum". Jill is our designated femme version of Michael Phelps. I'm guessing that even MP would cringe at the thought of putting his bod in the steamy nasty pond called Centennial Lake. After arriving at the pre-dawn hours of 5:30AM....we scoped out the aqua terrain for Ms. Jilly.

My initial reaction was "woa - I'm sure glad we're doing a RELAY and I don't have to get into that stinky water" - but those would not be very inspiring words for our swimmer. So, we kept the subject on how "nice and warm" the water would feel, and "how fast" Ms Jilly would swim thru it, and how many "laps" it appeared between buoys. We watched the "good" swimmers, and compared their styles with those who were working hard.

While Swimmer Jilly was getting her ZONE on....the rest of "Curly's Crew" relay team - including Biker Jane, Runner Chuck and Paparazzi Paddy - were busy putting together the remaining details. Setting up the transition area, strategizing on dunking bandannas in ice cold water, moving the bike to an empty rack to avoid colliding with other relay teams....and capturing each an every moment with the Blog Cam. This made for a busy morning. Paparazzi Paddy, toting a mug of coffee in one hand, and the Blog Cam in the other - was doing his own version of a triathlon. Chasing after each of us and taking pics. Rock on paparazzi Paddy!

The first wave of swimmers started shortly after 7AM. By 8:30AM, the relay swim wave was called to step into the water. Finally. The temperatures had already risen into the 90's by now. OK. I said I wouldn't dwell on this. Just say'n.

Mixed into the final swim wave, were the paraplegic athletes. One in particular captured the hearts of the crowd. An athletic father lifted his disabled child into a life raft. With his son safely strapped into the life raft, the dad attached a line to the raft...and around his waist. He would swim, towing his son in the life raft.... place his son in a special bike seat once out of the water....and then transfer his son to a special go-cart for the run. The dad wanted his disabled son to experience a TRI. There wasn't a dry eye in the crowd....

Swimmer Jilly skims thru the slimy pond scum waters....for an amazing swim, giving us a very competitive start in a relay event that consisted of some serious athletes. Now, we aren't REALLY competing with THEM. Curly's CREW is about FAMILY and just being FIT, and NOT competition. But it's hard NOT to notice other relay teams around you....and wonder if you just might pass ONE or TWO of them. Wouldn't that be fun? You know, IF it were to happen? You check out their bikes...and if it's a jalopy - then maybe you can stay ahead of that person? You check out their clothing....and if it's loose and baggy....then maybe this is their FIRST TRI and maybe they will take a wrong turn somewhere? And then you shake off those silly thoughts....but they keep returning. OK. I admit. The Wadsworth DNA is a tad competitive.

The timer chip is now secured on my leg, as Swimmer Jill enters the transition area. Completely soaked in ice cold water and bandannas tied everywhere....I race to the top of the hill to exit onto the road. There are bikers in front of me. Lots of them. Just how I like it. Peeps to pass.

We are all "body marked" and I was looking for an "RX" - meaning RELAY MIXED - on the bikers. That's our division. These would be the peeps to pass. On the first uphill grind, I found one. A man. This would be Sweet . I passed him with ease, and gave him a delightfully nice "passing on your left" blond voice, without a huff or puff to show for - as I blew by him on the uphill. But wait....on the next downhill - the big man blew past me. hmmmm. Let's see how long he wants to duel with me on the hills.

I let him stay in front of me for the next 3 miles. No need to waste precious energy. I kept Mr. RX in my sights. There would be another steep uphill grade coming up. This is where I planned my next move.

As dozens of bikers slowed to a crawl....I told Ms. Madone to "do your thing". We dusted Mr. RX....and that was the last I saw of him. Things were looking mighty fine....until the 3rd downhill.

This is where Ms. Madone turned into a NOODLE and morphed into a death wobble. Suddenly, I had NO control of my bike, as it shook violently in speeds of 35mph. I watched my life flash in front of me. This was about to be a terrible crash. There were many bikers descending directly behind me....and when I crash...they would crash on top of me. All I could do was to apply the rear brake slowly and pray I could hold on long enough for the bike to slow down before impact.

Miraculously....I stayed upright during the "death wobble". Something is terribly wrong with my bike at speeds above 30MPH. I slowed to less than 15MPH....and took in the moment. Dang, I didn't crash. I don't know how I stayed up.... I just need to get to the FINISH slowly and safely.

From that point, I no longer cared about passing anyone. I braked during the remaining downhills...and kept my speed less than 20mph. This is what the "death wobble" looks like.

I couldn't be happier to reach the end of the bike leg -- in one piece. I jogged my bike back into the transition area - and handed off the race chip to big brother Chuck.

Chuck is a trooper...and a fighter. Having trained for the run during the last 2 months....life thru him a curve ball and messed up his foot. Unable to train with a busted up foot for 3 weeks...many would have just "given up". Not Chuck.

He's gonna run as much as his foot will allow...and he's gonna finish. And if I know my brother...he's gonna pass a few runners on the way. It's just part of that darn'd Wadsworth DNA. Accompanied by Jill on the run, Chuck tears outta the transition area, in near 100 degree temperatures looking for runners with an RX.

The running course is 3.4 miles and quite challenging. It feels like it is mostly uphill, and when it's not -- it's exposed to full sunlight.

I watched my BIG BRO finish his first running event, his first triathlon relay. It was pretty cool. We all finished...safely. No heat exhaustion, no traumatic bike injury, no foot meltdown....and just a few GI issues for our swim chic....(yuck!)

Next year, Paparazzi Paddy is considering joining Chuck as a TRI relay participant. Well, he didn't actually "say" this...or even "think" it.... but this is how these family events get "started".

Way to go Curly's Crew!

TRI to finish...in the blazing heat

When I received email notice that my Sprint Triathlon START TIME would be 9:20AM, panic set in. Sunday, June 20 was predicted to be the HOTTEST and MUGGIEST (is that a word?) day of the year, and it was now official. I would be in the LAST wave of swimmers to start the Carroll County TRI to WIN Sprint Triathlon. The ReelFeel temperatures by 9:30AM would be 102 degrees.

The South Carroll Tri-to-Win Sprint Triathlon consists of a 400 meter swim, 14 mile bike and 5K run. It is also a fundraiser for the Joanna M Nicolay Melanoma Foundation - a great cause in the fight against melanoma skin cancer. A sprint TRI is short-n-sweet...and meant to be fast. Maybe for some that is...

By 4:30AM raceday morning, the temperatures were in the low 80's and the humidity was already THICK. I was ready as I could be. My TRI partner Jill (who should've been IN the event with me...but forgot so sign up IN TIME - OK jus say'n ;-) had gone over and over my transition details...with me the day prior. We had down the transition basics...bike shoes, socks folded and ready to whip on, running shoes without laces, bike helmet, sunglasses bla bla bla. The high heat added new items to the checklist. We decided Bandanas soaked in ice water, tied around my neck and wrist would be my ticket to heat survival. It was all about getting it "done" at this point. No speedy biking...no fast running....nothing heroic....not that I had that in me to begin with .

I arrived at the parking lot - just as daybreak was unfolding. 5:10AM. The parking lot was empty. I was the first to arrive. Time to recline the bucket seat in the Jeep and relax. Sure, I don't start til 9:20AM....but I had to check in and get body marked before 6AM. The first wave starts at 7 (lucky dogs!)...and I would spend my time thinking "cool" thoughts. I should be dozing off, but I was still fussing with some last minute details. Where would I keep my car key? Should I try to carry my mini-blog cam and film this bloody heat wave? Should I skip wearing my bike gloves? So many things...yet unresolved.

By 7AM, two swimming pools with a total of 11 lanes were buzzing with the first wave of swimmers. I was assigned to pool #2 - with 3 lanes. The slow swimmers are assigned to pool #2, and I was glad to be among the challenged swimmer crowd. Swimming is not my strong suit, but I had trained, and was ready as I could be. What I wasn't ready for, was the spectacle going on in pool#2.

Now, I know what it is like to be swimming challenged. It defines me. Never having learned to swim as a youngsta - I truly understand the challenge learning to swim in mid-life. It's not pretty. But what was going on in pool#2, filled with swim challenged adults - was a sight to be seen. I made the wrong decision to leave my blog cam behind. It would have been footage to behold. It was joy to my eyes. People, young and old, big and small...even more swim challenged than I? They were like bumper swimmers...colliding into one another, swimming with no agenda, floating with no propulsion, and lacking oxygen after 3-4 strokes. Sooo...this is how we look? It was hard to imagine...but I instantly felt one with my pitiful swimming comrades.

After the initial AWE of watching the events unfolding in pool #2, I began to wonder if some of these folks would ever make it out of the swimming portion of the event. Their lack of propulsion in the water, could severly impact my start time. What if my start time is delayed til 10AM? I ran to the side of the pool and started cheering them on. "Come on - you can do it -- kick harder". I tried to be positive, tho my other voice wanted to yell out "hurry up...you guys need to get outta the water so I can get in before noon."

By now it is 8AM, and I had been hydrating LOTS, and just finished a banana. I had at least another 1.5 hours before my number (291) is called to the starting line. But wait, a line of folks in the 290 - 310 range is standing in the queue. Did I miss the call? It's only 8AM? So, I sached over to the man-in-charge, and asked him if the 290's are on deck? He then told me that 291 is next to go. WHAT???? That's ME?? I just consumed a banana....drank a liter of water...and did not have my swim cap or goggles ready at all. But I'm not complaining. Just not ready. I ran to retrieve my swim gear...and was yanking down my swim cap as I crossed the starting line...and plopped into the PITY POOL#2 with my many swim-impaired adults.

Within seconds, pool panic set in...and my breathing tightened up. What's up with this? I don't have an answer why mini-panic set in...but I finished the swim in a record SLOW time for me...and was glad to be outta the piti-pool. Off to the transition area...and still trying to decide if I wanted to wear bike gloves. I did. It took forever to get them on over wet skin. Maybe not such a good idea.

I jogged with My bike (Ms Madone) out of the transition area...and onto the bike course. I had my sights on every biker ahead of me. But it was hot...and I needed to save juice for the soon-to-be-hotter run. Maybe I don't need to pass everyone on the bike. Then again....it's hard to turn off that switch.

I made all of my gains...on the uphills. Ms Madone likes the uphills for some reason. It was now time to decend....and my speeds were over 30mph...when suddenly I felt like I had no control over my bike. The rear wheel was causing a road wobble so severe, that it felt like my wheel was about to come off the frame. I immediately applied the brakes...which is not necessarily a safe thing to do on a high speed decent. Fortunately, I was able to hang on without crashing.... WHAT TO DO NOW? I suppose I could get off the bike and look at it....but I'm no bike mechanic. I can change the tire if I need to. I looked ahead...and saw 2 more bikers in front of me. Hmmm...maybe I should just stay on the bike...pass them (of course ;-)...and take it slower on the downhills. That's my plan.

By mile 10 Ms Madone is making some very abnormal, and louder-by-the-minute bike noise. I tried hard not to listen. We (Ms Madone and I) just need to get to the finish line, without the bike falling apart. I was not about to stop, and managed to go slow to keep the bike wobbles down to a minimum. I passed the checkpoint with TEAM BRO and FLUFF (Jill) cheering wildly at mile 11.5. They had volunteered to stand out in the heat for 4+ hours flagging in all of the bikers. In this heat, standing on pavement cheering in bikers for 4+ hours is pretty darn heroic.

Two and a half more miles to go. I'm sure I'm the only biker out there hoping for more UPhills. Ms Madone is really not doing well on any downhill at this point. SOMEHOW...we made it to the finish....and I quickly racked Ms Madone, and gave her a pat on the handlebars for not tossing me over.

I doused my bandanas in ice cold water...and left the transition area to start the run course. I was so busy dousing my bandanas, that I forgot my water bottle. Major detail. By the time I reached the main road, hot pavement added another 10 degrees to the ReelFeel. The run consisted of two long uphills...and 2 gradual downhills. Most of the runners...had morphed into walkers. Not me. I wanted to be DONE. I decided as long as I wasn't dizzy...I would continue to run. I was wishing for my water bottle, but had to let go of that thought. What will be, will be. With two sopping wet, ice cold bandanas - it really didn't feel too bad. My thoughts turned to crossing the finish line.

An hour and 40 minutes was the result - putting me #4 in my age division. It's great being old ;-) And I couldn't have been happier to have started at 8:10AM...instead of 9:20AM. Re-united with BRO and Tri-Sis Jill (you guys ROCK!) at the finish - we made plans for the most important part of any race. FOOD.