Breakfast in the morning was most choice; Team Bad Ass woke up before dawn and fuelled up on oatmeal, bananas, and coffee. We then drove up to the race to set up both of the transition areas. While performing a final check on the bicycles, I discovered a broken valve on Matt’s bike. I swapped out the tube in less than 2 minutes. I am awesome.
As we stood on the beach waiting for the earlier waves to begin, I recited my usual prerace incantation, “As I walk through the valley of death I fear nothing, for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley.” Matt, always the consummate politician, spent the waiting time chatting up a couple of assholes in wetsuits.
The race organizers had everyone in our wave line up before heading out into the bay for the water-start, ostensibly so they could make sure that everyone that went into the water came out of the water. While lined up on the beach waiting to check in, we noticed the guy in front of us was wearing a polypropylene tri-shirt with numerous sponsors on the back, including the bike shop that I worked at and the bar that Matt manages. Despite this ridiculous coincidence, neither of us was aware of this tri-team’s existence.
The race director instructed us to head out to the starting buoy and we started to slog our way out into the water. The first thing we realized was that the water temperature was about ten degrees cooler than it was the day before. They gave us a countdown, then a starting bell, and we were off.
Knowing that I am likely a worse swimmer than Mary Jo Kopechne (too soon?), I tried to stay to the side of the main group. For the most part the water was between five and six feet deep, allowing Matt and myself to run along the bottom when we had to catch our breath. We kept up this swim/aqua-run system for the entirety of the swim, eventually exiting the swim with the top two swim times in our age group. 8:57 and 8:58.
Exiting the water required us traversing some serious mud and weeds before getting to the shore. Had the exit been like the entrance, I think everyone’s swim time would have improved by about a minute.
The first transition went well. We both switched into bike mode in less than four minutes. I remember having a difficult time getting socks onto my wet feet; I probably looked like one of Jerry’s Kids hopping around like an idiot. Once we were out of the chute and on the bike course, I idled a bit waiting for Matt to catch up. Well actually, I was trying to get my gloves on…making sure Matt was alright was secondary to ensuring that my palms were protected.
The bike course was hillier that I had expected, but so much the better because I am a terror on a bike and a champion on hills. I have climbed summits in California, conquered mountains in Arizona, and demolished the Texas Hill Country. Michigan’s hills would not stop me.
About halfway through the bike portion, I realized that I had based my triathlon strategy on a floundering swim. I had only planned on making it out of the water alive. My bike strength was supposed to make up for my swim weakness. That was no longer necessary. So I decided to cut back a bit on the bike, to save some energy for the run – something I never thought I would be in a position to care about. I ended up clocking a 56:32 on the bike. Matt powered through with a 1:00:59.
The second transition was a pain in the ass for me (Matt kicked the shit out of it). Rather than dismounting the bicycle before entering the transition area, the douche-bag in front of me just rode right through the chute, colliding with another racer just beyond my sight. The whole thing slowed me down by about thirty seconds while race people intervened to clear the area. I also had to change out of my bike shoes and into my running shoes. All told it took me a 1:45. Matt smoked through in 0:47.
The run was horseshit. We tried training for the transition from bike to run, but neither of us was really prepared. Our legs felt like jelly for at least the first half mile, during which time I considered quitting. I would have gone through with it, but I spied a fat woman plugging away with an arrogant Cheshire Cat grin on her face and my thoughts of quitting were quickly abated. I had to beat this woman.
The run course routed us through the back part of the resort and featured two out-and-back sections, allowing you to size up competition as they ran past you going the other way. After about a mile, I saw Matt and we traded thumbs-ups. He looked like he was doing okay, but he told me afterwards that he wanted to die at that point.
The race finish was at the top of a decent sized incline – not quite a hill, but a long stretch of uphill running was required. I kicked it into gear and tore up the hill like a meth head running from a police after a high-speed chase. I don’t fully recall crossing the finish line, but I do recall ruining several people’s finish-line photo-ops by passing them just before the chute.
I ended up with a 26:32 run time, giving me a final time 1:37:26. Good enough for 2nd place in our age group.
Matt finished the run in 25:46, giving him a final time of 1:40:26, and earning him 4th place in the age group.
Team Bad Ass had completed its first triathlon and taken one more small step toward completing an Ironman. Huzzah!
As we stood on the beach waiting for the earlier waves to begin, I recited my usual prerace incantation, “As I walk through the valley of death I fear nothing, for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley.” Matt, always the consummate politician, spent the waiting time chatting up a couple of assholes in wetsuits.
The race organizers had everyone in our wave line up before heading out into the bay for the water-start, ostensibly so they could make sure that everyone that went into the water came out of the water. While lined up on the beach waiting to check in, we noticed the guy in front of us was wearing a polypropylene tri-shirt with numerous sponsors on the back, including the bike shop that I worked at and the bar that Matt manages. Despite this ridiculous coincidence, neither of us was aware of this tri-team’s existence.
The race director instructed us to head out to the starting buoy and we started to slog our way out into the water. The first thing we realized was that the water temperature was about ten degrees cooler than it was the day before. They gave us a countdown, then a starting bell, and we were off.
Knowing that I am likely a worse swimmer than Mary Jo Kopechne (too soon?), I tried to stay to the side of the main group. For the most part the water was between five and six feet deep, allowing Matt and myself to run along the bottom when we had to catch our breath. We kept up this swim/aqua-run system for the entirety of the swim, eventually exiting the swim with the top two swim times in our age group. 8:57 and 8:58.
Exiting the water required us traversing some serious mud and weeds before getting to the shore. Had the exit been like the entrance, I think everyone’s swim time would have improved by about a minute.
The first transition went well. We both switched into bike mode in less than four minutes. I remember having a difficult time getting socks onto my wet feet; I probably looked like one of Jerry’s Kids hopping around like an idiot. Once we were out of the chute and on the bike course, I idled a bit waiting for Matt to catch up. Well actually, I was trying to get my gloves on…making sure Matt was alright was secondary to ensuring that my palms were protected.
The bike course was hillier that I had expected, but so much the better because I am a terror on a bike and a champion on hills. I have climbed summits in California, conquered mountains in Arizona, and demolished the Texas Hill Country. Michigan’s hills would not stop me.
About halfway through the bike portion, I realized that I had based my triathlon strategy on a floundering swim. I had only planned on making it out of the water alive. My bike strength was supposed to make up for my swim weakness. That was no longer necessary. So I decided to cut back a bit on the bike, to save some energy for the run – something I never thought I would be in a position to care about. I ended up clocking a 56:32 on the bike. Matt powered through with a 1:00:59.
The second transition was a pain in the ass for me (Matt kicked the shit out of it). Rather than dismounting the bicycle before entering the transition area, the douche-bag in front of me just rode right through the chute, colliding with another racer just beyond my sight. The whole thing slowed me down by about thirty seconds while race people intervened to clear the area. I also had to change out of my bike shoes and into my running shoes. All told it took me a 1:45. Matt smoked through in 0:47.
The run was horseshit. We tried training for the transition from bike to run, but neither of us was really prepared. Our legs felt like jelly for at least the first half mile, during which time I considered quitting. I would have gone through with it, but I spied a fat woman plugging away with an arrogant Cheshire Cat grin on her face and my thoughts of quitting were quickly abated. I had to beat this woman.
The run course routed us through the back part of the resort and featured two out-and-back sections, allowing you to size up competition as they ran past you going the other way. After about a mile, I saw Matt and we traded thumbs-ups. He looked like he was doing okay, but he told me afterwards that he wanted to die at that point.
The race finish was at the top of a decent sized incline – not quite a hill, but a long stretch of uphill running was required. I kicked it into gear and tore up the hill like a meth head running from a police after a high-speed chase. I don’t fully recall crossing the finish line, but I do recall ruining several people’s finish-line photo-ops by passing them just before the chute.
I ended up with a 26:32 run time, giving me a final time 1:37:26. Good enough for 2nd place in our age group.
Matt finished the run in 25:46, giving him a final time of 1:40:26, and earning him 4th place in the age group.
Team Bad Ass had completed its first triathlon and taken one more small step toward completing an Ironman. Huzzah!
**Jim can be seen on the far right with the awesome eagle tatoo on his chest. Matt was running on Jim's left and for some reason was cut out of the picture. He has also failed to provide Jim with any of the other pictures taken during the race so he cannot bitch.**
The wet suits seem like a good idea since they give added bouyancey to the swimmer. Must make for easier swimming, not having to worry about sinking to the bottom of the lake?
ReplyDeleteLuckily the bay was only about four and half feet deep, so sinking to the bottom and drowning really wasn't an issue.
ReplyDelete