There Has to Be a Morning After....

I am happy to report I am alive! I lived through my first Olympic distance triathlon and, although, I didn't do so well, I survived to regale you all in the details of the duh, duh, duh NEW YORK CITY TRIATHLON....

As I posted yesterday Brad went and got us coffee to start the day and brought back some fresh fruit from that Greek diner across the street. We ate the yogurt we bought the night before, and granola, drank our G2 and there you go. We got showered, dressed in our Richmond Tri Club suits, yes we were rocking the Richmond blue, and out the door we went. We video-ed everything, and I am glad we did. I was extremely at ease. Why, I have no idea. I was terrified of the jelly fish, wondering if I could make the 24 miles and couldn't fathom running a 10K after.

As we were going into where our bikes were racked, we got body marked. After the cute guy who marked me was done, he looked up from the 41 he was writing on my leg and asked, Are you an elite? Which of course got me giggling like a school girl. I guess only an amateur triathlete would take that as a compliment. We got to our transition spots and started setting up. I was number 2256, Brad was 849 so we were pretty spread out. My spot was right near the in and out for the swim and the run but the bike was a million miles away. So after much puttering around and chatting with my fellow triathletes, I went back to where Brad was, with wetsuit in hand and we went down to where we could get our timing chips. We stopped at the loo on the way. Of course the boy line moved with the speed of light and the girl line hadn't even moved by the time Brad came to fetch me. Thankfully, I didn't really have to go.

At this point, it's around 5:45 and Brad's wave is set to start at 6:08. He gets into this race zone, a place where no man but Brad can go, and he was starting to zone. It gets kind of scary, like he could potentially hurt someone if they get in the way. He had this wild look in his eyes, sputtering about his wave starting and needing to get there as he was walking the almost mile to swim start. Here he is, in his crocs and asking me if I minded him running ahead of me to get to where he needed to go. I told him to go ahead, I was going to meditate my way to a triathlon nirvana.

I was all alone, there was no one there beside me...My problems had all gone...I kept trodding along, saying hello to the volunteers who greeted us so warmly along the route and was singing in my head, Who's afraid of the jellyfish, the jellyfish, the jellyfish....I found chip pick up, and my zoned husband, kissed him, told him I would see him on the other side (it's what I always say to him before a race starts) strapped my chip on my ankle like a dolphin being tracked in the wild, pulled my wetsuit out of the plastic bag I had it in, found a grassy spot to sit and started getting into it. I was wishing someone had a stick of butter to rub all over me because they are a pain to get into, especially being sweaty with how hot it was that morning. But I got in up to my waist, walked around like Jacques Cousteau waiting to dive and find the elusive moray eel and decided to find my corral.

The swim waves had already started, the pros and elites were off, and it was awesome to see them swimming that mile. The excitement started to rise with my other 40-44 year old age grouping women. We kept moving down the line to the start barge, all of us helping zip up our suits, making sure we were done up properly down the back. Suddenly it was here, the Swim Barge, inch by inch, step by step, slowly we turned down the barge ramp, and there I was, poised on the precipice of what could be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. The announcer called, Red Caps, you're in the water. I jumped in, held on to the rope and waited. The air horn sounded and we were gone. I was pummeled like a speed bag at a gym, but found a spot, got into my rhythm and I started my mile down the Hudson. Hey, I'm doing pretty well, look at me zoom through the water, this is great! But I started wondering to myself, how is someone holding a lit match to my toes??? Next thing I know it felt like someone smacked me in the face with a blazing hot frying pan. Ack, jelly fish attack, jellyfish attack!!!! Danger Danielle Robinson, Danger Danielle Robinson, now, at this point I am thinking, I am calling the kayaker, I need assistance!! But as I lifted my head out of the water to scrape the stinging from my lips, I saw the end. I was but 250 meters away, I just swam a freakin mile, I can't stop. So I swim on, now I have stinging in my wetsuit over my right shoulder blade, I finally realize what that sensation was that got my toes. Lion's mane jellyfish. Those mutant looking basketballs of angry red and purple pulsating goo! But I made it. I couldn't believe when the lifeguard was helping me out at the swim finish. I carefully avoided the fresh water showers, remembering I read somewhere that would make the sting of a jelly fish worse, jogged the 1/2 mile to transition peeling myself like a banana, and made it in. I got to my bike, grabbed my sponge soaked in ammonia and sponged down my face and feet. But there was the poor girl across from me who was absolutely panicked, asking me wide eyed what's going on with me, why am I on fire?? I helped her, and offered my ammonia sponge to everyone and anyone who was stung, and everyone happily obliged. I grabbed my bike shoes, put on my race belt, put my sunglasses on, slapped on my helmet, tore through the opening of transition, crossed the blue line and hopped on my bike.

The bike ride was something else. They tell you straight away to get into your little ring to get through the first part of the ride out of the park. The rest of the ride was extremely hilly, but the scenery was to die for. There you are, riding along, looking at the City, it was truly breathtaking. But hilly, holy cow, I was working every gear I had getting up and down those hills, down the Henry Hudson, to the Moshulu, back to 50th street, back to Riverside Park. I was tired, my legs were screaming from the hills, how was I going to do this run???

I get through the bike dismount, stop, pull my shoes off, and run the billion miles to my spot. I drop my helmet, shoes, grab my socks, put on my sneakers, spray down with sunscreen, get my Richmond Tri Club hat on and start the steep incline to get to the run down 72 Street. It was pretty gnarly, the hill was like running to the top swirl of a 1000 foot Carvel Ice Cream cone. But I ran the whole thing, and down 72nd. I couldn't stop, there were too many spectators, all cheering, I had to run, which I did. I ran into Central Park and to the first Hydration Station. I grabbed an Accelerade and a water. I promptly dumped the water over my head and gulped down the Accelerade. I started running again, and then it happened. Did anyone get the loin cloth number of the native that threw the spear into my thigh??? Geez, medic, I'm hit, I'm hit. Surprisingly, there isn't anything sticking out. Hmmmm, better start running again. Then it hits me again, yowza, this hurts, stop and walk it out. I did, hit the next hydration station did the Accelerade and cup of water over the head. I continued this pattern for the whole 6.2 miles. Up and down the hills of Central Park. The mean, little man that lives in my head is yelling at me, you lived through jelly fish fields, the mean streets and potholes of NY, you can do this, finish this. Then I heard another noise, the noise of a finish line in the distance. It energized me, my legs started moving me. Not fast, not lightning like, but faster then the walk that I had to do at certain points. The end was mine my friend. I started running hard, I had legs left and flew through that end like I was an elite finishing in 2 hours. It was a wonderful feeling, I was done, met up with my husband, life was good, very good and that's all I have to say about that...