Ontario Women's Triathlon - Saturday, September 10th, 2016

Yes, it's been almost two weeks since the race. You're getting a report anyway. I promise I had a good reason for not writing it last week, but that's a story for another day.

Maybe it's something about the venue, or that particular weekend. I can only be certain of one thing: it has pissed rain 100% of the times I have tried to race at Georgina out of De La Salle Park. At least this year it was much warmer - 19c/66f instead of 10c/50f.

I was up absurdly early despite the very reasonable race start time of 10am, because I had to get my breakfast (rice porridge with almond butter and honey) ready and then drive an hour and forty-five minutes through the rain to get up to Jackson's Point. Ok, well Tanker the Wonder Sherpa actually drove - I merely kept pointing out how ridiculous it was to drive three and a half hours round-trip for a race I expected to complete in under 80mins.

My other skills include taking terrible photos from a moving car.

I'd taken my time trial bike out for a single ride in 2016, the Thursday before the race - less than 5km of spinning up and down through both rings and all cogs around my neighborhood, just to confirm that everything was good to go after it sat in my livingroom untouched for almost an entire year. My trusty steed performed flawlessly despite being completely neglected since racing at Georgina last September.

Seen here just after bike check in, being led by an overladen idiot.

We arrived at the race site after a Tim Hortons stop and sucking back my well-it's-better-than-nothing coffee in plenty of time for me to pick up my kit and get my transition area set up. After a lovely chat with honorary Race Director Paolina Allen (an awesome lady and thoroughly badass athlete), I meandered to my designated rack with little hope of getting a good spot, but lucked out when the person who'd racked at the end closest to the swim in/run out decided to move their stuff. Score!

Noone is amused by my dorky antics.
I don't blame them.

Bike racked. Shoes and hat laid out. Sport drink poured into nerdy aero bike bottle. Spermy helmet arranged with straps out on aerobars, with sunglasses (bows already open) inside, and race number attached to belt laid on top with clip undone. I even clicked my rear derailleur up to a slightly bigger cog and spun the pedals so the left-hand one was at around the 10 o'clock position, for that extra little edge when mounting. With less than 450km of total cycling in for the year I needed every bit of free speed I could get - I still had no idea why I'd actually bothered tapering for this race, except that it was my only multisport event of 2016 and I don't have anything else on the calendar until the end of October.

Optimism.

Nonetheless, it all just felt so dorky. I missed the simplicity of just throwing on a pair of shoes and having done with it. Gawd, I even needed Tanker the Wonder Sherpa to zip up the back of my spandex onesie (because let's face it: that's what a tri suit really is) after one last stop at the portajohns to lube up all sorts of unmentionable bits of me and try to get the last of the horror out of me.

I may have neglected to mention that I felt like absolute garbage. It had started Friday night and continued all the way up to Georgina that morning - I don't know if I angried up one of my stupid food allergies, if I'd ended up with food poisoning, or if I was just lucky enough to come down with a stomach bug, but I was having horrible cramping and some other really unpleasant effects. I really hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of my awful experience at Muskoka Long Course back in 2010, because I don't think I'm capable of coming up with that many euphemisms for "trying not to crap myself" again. I mourn the loss of that race report, but never, EVER want to repeat its overarching theme.

Think happy thoughts.

After my usual run warmup, I whipped out my stool to stuff myself into my rubbery sausage casing (seriously, the dorkiness just never ends) while the pre-race announcements went on, and then wandered down to the beach to get the suit (also untouched since September of last year) wet and take a few strokes.

Error: enthusiasm not found.

I swam out to the orange buoy you can see on the left, discovered I could just barely reach the bottom there on tiptoe and keep my face above water as I re-adjusted my wetsuit, then swam back with just a couple of minutes before the first wave started at 10am. Three minutes later, the horn sounded and everyone around me started madly dashing into the knee-deep water while I moseyed in like I had nowhere in particular to be.

These ladies are so excitable..

I dolphin dived a lot - 4 or 5 times - then swam for about 20 metres or less. Reaching the sandbar, my hands were touching bottom even with high elbows, so I stood up and started dolphin diving again. I passed quite a few people this way, then dove in again between two pairs of feet and started working my way to the first turn buoy. Fortunately my stomach seemed to have settled down a bit, so I could actually focus on my terrible swimming.

One of these things is not like the others.

Surprisingly enough, I actually had one of the best swims I've pulled off in the last couple of years. My sighting - despite wearing smoked, metallized goggles in the dreary half light - went perfectly, and for once I actually swam in a straight bloody line. There was a bit of crowding up to the first turn buoy, but no real contact, and I found some clear water as I made my turn. I even had some decent endurance, swimming a consistent freestyle throughout despite not having swum a straight 500m that I can recall in the entirety of 2016. I passed people as they started to lose steam ahead of me, and my Garmin says I completed the 500m course in 9:50, so under 2mins per 100m. That qualifies as pretty good for me.

500m swim: 11:22 @ 2:16/100m (includes long run-up to T1)

11/30 in W35-39 - 40/184 O/A

A good swim, but I still didn't enjoy it. One of the things I realised all the way back in April is that I don't particularly like triathlon swims. There's only been one in my entire 8 seasons as a multisport athlete that I actually found pleasant, and that was at least 5 years ago. They're generally just something to get through, and this was no exception - a stark contrast to the opening miles of a trail race or ultra, which are generally an energetic and deliriously happy exploration of some beautiful bit of trail.

Does this look like someone happy with their choices in life?

In any case, it was over and now it was time to tackle the absurdly long run up to transition. It was kind of neat because we went through a pedestrian tunnel under the road, but kind of sucked because there was a lot of gravel under my bare feet, a hill to climb on the other side of the tunnel, and then we had to run right around the whole damn transition area to the corner diametrically opposite our approach in order to come in through the run out arch.

Plenty of time to pull off my goggles, cap and suit once I got to the other side.

Discarding all of my swim paraphernalia, donning my race number belt, sunglasses (just as the rain got harder), cycling shoes, and dorky helmet, I grabbed my bike and started heading for the mount line. I even managed to push the button on my Garmin to tell it I was heading out on the bike now (it was the first time I'd ever used multisport mode), and start my cycle computer. Jeez, it's like I finally figured all this crap out just in time for possibly my last tri ever!

T1: 01:27

I had no problems clipping in my left foot after swinging my leg over the bike, but as I stepped on the pedal to get going (and said "excuse me, sir" to a fellow who walked across the course directly in front of me as I did so), something went crunch. I struggled to get moving and to clip in my right foot, standing on the pedals for leverage. What the hell?

Waving to Tanker and Paolina, who were sweetly cheering for me as I set off!

Within moments it became clear that my rear derailleur was in trouble, and the shifter wouldn't stay in place - the moment I released it, it would drop into the smallest (most difficult) cog. Erhm, ok - I had something similar happen in the first few minutes at Lakeside a couple of years ago, but it resolved itself. I dropped into the small chainring up front and did some experimenting with the rear bar end shifter, but it obstinately refused to stay in place unless I held it.

So, I rode in the sub-optimal combination of small chainring and smallest cog for most of the way along Lake Drive, passing a heap of people as I went - to their credit, though, I was on my awesome aerodynamic time trial bike with aerohelmet and all, and passing lots of hybrid and mountain bikes. I had to give my undertrained legs a break a few times when the mostly-flat course rose slightly and definitely had a few pucker moments as the rear wheel would bounce around a bit on the very wet road after I hit a bump, but I managed to stay down in aero and keep cranking away at a respectable pace. A few ladies did pass me (most of whom did not bother to give any indication they intended to do so, which was worrisome as I was dodging slick manhole covers and potholes), but they mostly looked like pretty serious athletes. I was just happy to be rolling along fairly smoothly with my lack of training and cantankerous rear derailleur, sipping sport drink from my aerobottle - the only nutrition or hydration I'd take in through this short course race.

Don't mind me - just passing through.

The turn onto Metro Road to head back toward the race site around 8km in brought smoother pavement, but also a false-flat uphill into the wind (which was thankfully much lighter than last year). I spent a lot of time holding my shifter up in an easier cog, but when I'd hit a bump I'd have no idea what gear I'd be in when I landed. My shoulders and upper arms whined about being in aero for only the second time in the last 12 months, and my legs whinged about their lack of cycling fitness. The weather continued to cry for me, but I managed to arrive back at the dismount upright and with enough panache to do my old moving dismount.

Swing the leg over and try not to fall on your face.

15km bike: 31:36 @ 28.48kph

8/30 in W35-39 - 39/184 O/A

Of course, my bike almost immediately tried to fall over as I began to run, but I just barely managed to save it from going down and taking me with it. Off to transition again, while yelling to Tanker that my rear derailleur was distinctly uncooperative throughout my ride.

"COMPLETELY FUCT, I TELL YOU!"

I did, however, remember to take my helmet off as I passed through transition, so all was not completely lost. I was also pretty stoked to see there was only one other bike at my rack when I arrived - it seems I'd put in a decent showing after all! A quick shoe change, ditch the sunglasses, get moving while I throw my hat on my head, and out the arch to finish this thing off with the one part for which I should be reasonably qualified.

T2: 01:05

Of course, run fitness in a triathlon is partly an effect of bike fitness, which I was sorely lacking. I started to death whistle almost immediately in the soggy air, and never really stopped. I kept pushing, though, and passed quite a few more people along the way. The rain picked up again as I ran the very mild uphill to the turn-around, and I had to keep fussing with my race number belt as I trotted along - it seems at some point in the last year the elastic had begun to lose its snappiness, so it sagged quite alarmingly with all the bouncing of my stride.

Even my fat butt wasn't quite enough to keep it up!

Nevertheless, I managed to surprise myself by running faster than I have in at least two years - just a few seconds slower than my stand-alone 5k PR pace, despite tired legs from the bike and overall lack of multisport fitness. I had expected to chug along like the diesel I am after all the long, slow ultra racing I'd done this year, but in far less time than I had anticipated I was making the turn off of scenic Lake Drive into the chute to the finish!

Gotta get the ill advised racing gang sign in there, of course.

4km run: 21:08 @ 5:17/km

7/30 in W35-39 - 30/184 O/A

I got my greatly unexpected finisher's medal (not accustomed to those in multisport events this short!) from Paolina, and reflected that the whole thing had actually been a fairly fun time after all. Ooh, and my belly behaved itself, too!

w00t!

Official time: 1:06:37

7/30 in W35-39 - 30/184 O/A

(Official results here)

(Garmin data here)

While I did enjoy the race overall, and had more fun than expected doing my first women-only event, I do believe this might be the end of multisport racing for me. I have some serious goals for 2017 that are all in the ultrarunning realm, which may preclude any involvement in tri next year. It has nothing to do with the Ontario Women's Triathlon, which is a truly excellent race experience - Paolina Allen and MultiSport Canada put on a very high quality event that is accessible and welcoming to the newcomer while still holding the allure of a flat, fast course for more experienced athletes to go chasing PRs. The bike routing along Lake Drive gives beautiful views of Lake Simcoe - better scenery than the average tri, but still just not quite as alluring to me as a wandering singletrack trail through a forest..

Anyone want to buy a used wetsuit?

Georgina Sprint not-a-Triathlon - September 13th, 2015

Showed up at the race site in 10c/50f and it's raining bloody sideways.

ALL THE YIPES

We see a bunch of people packing up their bikes and heading out. They clearly have at least as much NOPE as I do for this race, but I decide I'll go pick up my kit and see what the story is anyway...mostly because we'd rolled out of bed at the buttcrack of dawn and driven 2hrs to get there. I actually struggled into the lower half of my wetsuit in the car just to keep me warm on the way to kit pickup, leaving most of my clothes in the car to stay dry while I threw on my MultiSport Canada hoodie and wrapped a space blanket I found in my transition bag around me..

I get my first look at Lake Simcoe and see three foot breaking waves. My NOPE level increases dramatically. As I line up to pick up my race bag, though, it's announced that the swim is cancelled - this triathlon just turned into a DUathlon, consisting of a 5k run, 20k bike, and another 2.5k run. Gee, good thing I put my wetsuit on. 

I resolve to at least start the damn thing. I rue the fact that I'd given a long, hard look to my Vanderkitten vest as I was packing up my bag the day before, but decided against bringing it because I've never actually bothered to stop in T1 before to put it on (despite having done some seriously cold racea). I pull out a pair of air travel socks with the toe seams snipped that live in my transition bag - a.k.a. my ghetto arm warmers - and use the scissors that I keep in there to cut myself a chunk of space blanket, which I unceremoniously stuff down the front of my trisuit in an effort not to freeze to death.

Purple scarf chick is not amused.

With less than 20mins to the start, I toss my bike, my helmet, sunglasses and cycling shoes into a rack spot in transition (leaving everything else inside to stay dry), then line up with my wave in the corral by the finish line to start this bit of madness. Oh, and I slapped on my usual smiley face, because what the heck else can you do at this point but laugh?

It's hard to draw on the back of your own calf.

I start at the back of the pack, and having run almost 19km the day before, figure I'll probably stay there. I just trot along as easy as possible, knowing I'll need to save some legs for what promises to be a terrifying time on the bike. I hadn't done a duathlon since Victoria's back in May of 2010, but I remember how my legs felt like they were filled with cement after the first run then.

Behind me is the reason the swim was cancelled.
The water safety team couldn't even get the course marked.

It was pretty damn humbling being less than 2km into the first run when the M40-49 men started coming past me like I was standing still, having started 3mins behind me. I did pass one or two people along the way, but certainly wasn't in any danger of being competitive. I sure wasn't going to sneak up on anyone, either - my space blanket wrapping made a loud rustling noise with every step, bounce and jiggle...and there were a lot of those.

Just floatin' along - nothing to see here, folks.

The run course was nice and flat, which meant the extra insulation I'm carrying around wasn't the liability it could have been. With nothing but a bit of silver saran wrap, a couple of socks and my spandex to trap bodyheat, this was taking #TRUSTTHECHUB to a whole new level, but fortunately there was plenty of it in which to put my faith. I did eventually make it back to transition, doing what I do best.

Acting the insufferable fool.

5k run: 30:18 @ 6:03/km

166/194 O/A - 60/80 W - 8/11 W35-39

Into transition, I toed off my tri loafers only to have the insole of the right shoe pull halfway out. Damnit, I'm going to need that again. I bend down to straighten it out and my hamstrings stage a protest at what they feel constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. To complete the experience, I nearly rip off my hanging-on-by-a-thread right big toenail while putting on my cycling shoes, then dump a puddle of water on my head as I put my helmet on. Welp, nothing here is working out - might as well ride.

HI HO CHUBBY, AWAAAAAAAAY!

T1: 01:38

So the bike course would be incredibly beautiful in nice weather. Most of the first half is along Lake Road, hugging the Southern shore of Lake Simcoe with the view of the water and endless beaches only occasionally interrupted by a hedge, fence or a few trees. This, of course, meant there was precious little shelter from the 40kph/25mph wind gusts coming off the lake as they tried to blow my bike flat. Triathlon Ontario had gone so far as to ban the use of disc wheels for this race due to the conditions, but even with standard road wheels it was sketchy as hell in the blowing rain. I nearly got wiped out by some guy coming past me without any warning as I was about to dodge a frost-heaved manhole cover (seriously people - is it THAT HARD to say "on your left?"), and I played airborne caterpillar with a couple of people. I wasn't pushing things too hard, partly because I was fearful of overspending my traction budget (horizontal track stands suck) and partly because I didn't want to roast my legs. Once I made the turn onto Metro Road to head back toward the race site, though, I took advantage of the flat course and more predictable wind patterns to make up some time. I left it in the small ring but spun up to just over 30kph and started passing a lot more people in front of me, trying to offer a kind word to my fellow competitors out braving these ridiculous conditions. I thanked the police & volunteers profusely, too - a chilled as I was on the bike, it would be so much worse standing around in that weather just to herd a bunch of spandex-clad idiots around a course. My space blanket breastplate was probably the only reason I didn't go hypothermic, and while it bunched up uncomfortably by my left hip at one point, I was able to get it sorted back out without leaving the aerobars.

20k bike: 43:05 @ 27.85kph

142/194 O/A - 42/80 W - 6/11 W35-39

Safely to the dismount line, it was no time to start taking chances, so I once again came to a complete stop and gingerly stepped off before lumbering back into transition. I couldn't feel my feet, but that's nothing new for anyone who's raced Lakeside before.

I swear I'm actually running here.

Back into my tri loafers after ditching my bike, helmet & glasses at the rack, then on to the last leg of this foolhardy little adventure.

T2: 01:30

Still illin'.

Feeling the chill from the bike as I set out, there was no longer any reason to try to save anything and plenty of motivation to work hard in order to warm myself up. I'd forgotten to put a gel packet into my bento box on the bike, so grabbed a cup of sport drink (at least I was told it was spoort drink - it tasted like plain water) from an aid station in an effort to get a bit of a carbohydrate boost.

I was actually feeling pretty good and passing a number of people along the way - the flat course and chilly weather was well suited to my post-injury flabbiness.

Puddle jumping

Through the turn-around and back down a very mild decline toward the finish, I threw down with all I had left in my meagre stores of fitness and endurance. I did actually manage to tiny bit of a kick as I approached the muddy chute.

My smiley face got a bit grubby.

2.5k run: 14:05 @ 5:37/km

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Across the line with no flair or flourish, I had to admit I was glad I hadn't just packed up and gone the hell home. Against all odds, I'd managed to enjoy myself out there!

But still so, so done.

Official time: 1:30:35

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Having now done one with more than a single season's racing experience, I may consider racing a duathlon intentionally again in the future. I also wouldn't hesitate to race at Georgina again; on a more pleasant day it would be a very fast course for PR or benchmark chasing, and the views of Lake Simcoe on the bike an run courses are simply breathtaking.

I don't know what it says about me, though, that upon seeing a girl out running in our town just after getting home my first thought was "Gee, I should really get out for a run.."

Sit back, relax..

..and just watch me flounder.

Official tshirt of my tri season 2015

So the inaugural Georgina triathlon is this Sunday, and I will be lining up at the start with bugger all hope of doing much more than (possibly) surviving it.

I'm still quite fat and out of shape, and have no intention of tapering for this race - I can't afford to lose any more time to build run distance for the Vulture Bait 50k in 5 weeks (YIKES), so I'll be jamming out for over 10 miles of running on Saturday afternoon. I managed to get in 49.5km last week despite spending the weekend thoroughly enjoying myself whooping it up with friends at a motorcycle rally, and I should be over 50k this week. Not what anyone would consider "enough", but better than the 12-18km/week I was putting in back in July, plus those couple of 0km weeks.

Historically, the last tri of the year has generally been a "just for the sheer hell of it" race anyway. At least this year it's only a sprint rather than an Olympic distance, so I'll only have to suffer for somewhere between 1.5-2hrs rather than over 3.

And, of course, with all of my "extra insulation" I should have no problems with chilly morning temperatures at De La Salle Park - the flub should provide some extra buoyancy to prevent me from drowning, too, assuming I can manage to jam it all into my wetsuit.

#TRUSTTHECHUB

Wish me luck - I'm definitely going to need it!

Belwood Triathlon - July 11th, 2015

I don't think triathlon is really my thing this year. I have a theory about that, but that's a story for another day.

For now, courage.

The week leading up to Belwood was complete and utter balls. I'm still injured, had to say goodbye to a dearly loved friend, and got maybe 25hrs of sleep from Sunday to Friday. The only thing that got me out of bed at 5:30am on Saturday was the prybar known as "you spent money on this, stupid", which to date has a 100% effectiveness rate.

Get to race site. Grab everything from car. Wander toward transition, once again getting gravel stuck to my bike tires and scraping more paint off the rear wheel cut-out in the frame. Discover that fencing precludes anything like a reasonable route to the bike check-in entrance of transition. Hop some of said fencing, find a rack spot, do all the things.

Fortunately, in my 7th season of triathlon, I can accomplish most of said things on autopilot. I very seldom stupidly forget to put my nutrition on my bike or anything foolish like that anymore, even when all I really want is a nap.

Did I pack a mattress?

Portajohn. Wetsuit stuffery. Bah, still too fat for a good fit. Wander into water, flail about 50m out. Water safety person on paddle board tells me to head back. Wave legs around in water in attempt to warm up my injured whatever-it-is-that-hurts, then flail 50m back to shore.

Is it too late to change to the duathlon?

First wave goes. Kiss Tank, head down to start line, and position myself way off to the right in case I'm doing that awesome pulling-to-the-left thing that happened at Mine Over Matter. Of course, everyone else seems to have the same idea.

Horn sounds, and while everyone else seems to be in a big hurry to set off, I just kind of meander forward and then dolphin dive.

So much meh.

Flailage.

I feel like I'm doing ok until I'm apparently attacked by a facehugger with bad aim...or rather someone's hand splayed firmly on top of my head. It's the same water safety chick on her paddleboard, and she's pointing me off to the right. Yeah, happened again; drifted off to the left. Really though, I'm not that badly off course - just a few metres. While it's nice to be back on the right track sooner than later, I could've done without having my melon grabbed.

Whatevs. Onward.

Navigation is fine now, but I keep getting boxed in by other athletes. There are arms and legs everywhere in my field of vision, and I can't find a way through them. Finally make it to the first turn buoy, and it's wall-to-wall rubber and thrashing limbs around me. I pull up short for a quick breast stroke to see if I can locate an escape, but all I really succeed in doing is slowing down even more.

A continent drifts past. I can't even stay on its feet.

Through the second turn and headed back to the shore, I now have the dam beside me for easy navigation purposes and manage to find some clear water (because everybody else has left me behind). I am, however, tired. Bone tired. Even with accelerating my breathing pattern, I'm still gasping...so I side stroke a bit. 

Yeah, the swimming equivalent of walking the run. Again. I just swim like crap when I'm tired.

I do still manage to swim slightly more freestyle than side stroke, but it's a pretty narrow margin in the last couple of hundred metres. Eventually the spastic twitching of my limbs brings me to water shallow enough that my hand touches bottom, and I rise from the murky lake like some kind of chubby swamp creature.

From the black rubber lagoon?

750m swim: 17:20 @ 2:18/100m

Ok, that does include the absurdly long run-up to transition, but still - pretty pathetic.

Seldom has a photo so accurately portrayed my feelings.

Really, calling what I did on the way to transition "running" would be awfully charitable - I felt completely shelled and probably would have gratefully collapsed into a heap for a snooze had someone put a cot anywhere in view. I trundled to my bike, learned exactly how difficult it is to put cycling shoes on wet feet one-handed as you cling to a bike rack to keep from falling over, barked my shin on my pedal leaving said rack, and cursed my way to the mount line.

T1: 01:34

Other than my pedals now being out of position, saddling up went ok. I spun myself up to cruising pace and set out to execute my plan - I'd learned after the race last year that the first half is mostly flat or downhill, so with some bike fitness built while not running much due to injury, I dropped my meager hammer.

It's one of those inflatable ones you can win at the fair.

I passed some people. Some passed me. Not all of them were the same people. I had a sip of EFS Liquid Shot from my flask as I passed the 5k mark, then got whacked in the face by some huge freakin' bug on the out-and-back section. I climbed to the turn-around, sailed down the decline after negotiating the hairpin, ran out of gears on the big stinkin' hill at Oustic, and still made it through the 15k mark in 29:36 - a 30.4kph average.

Bike fitness - I haz some!

Of course, then there's a hill that's a kilometer and a half long. Then another that's over 2km long. My left adductor muscle started to talk, and none of what it had to say was positive. Just past 20k I had another sip of EFS Liquid Shot, then commenced to hammer again as I came through the 25k mark and back onto 18 toward Belwood Lake Conservation Area. I probably could have hit this section a bit harder, but my saddle had compressed under my chubby butt quite a bit by this point, which meant the slightly-too-long seat clamp bolt that sits dead centre in my saddle's big cut-out section began to make itself a very large and personal part of my life.

Note to self: replace that bolt. It's not the sort of thing you can ignore.

After a bit more airborne caterpillar with a young fellow on the home stretch and running out of water in my aero bottle (close enough to the finish I couldn't be stuffed to re-fill from the bottle on my frame), I finally made the dismount line. Still cautious about my idiot injured leg, I came to a full stop and got off the bike gingerly to avoid impeding my run any further.

Let's see how much time I can waste..

30k bike: 1:04:34 @ 27.88kph

(If the race director is correct, that should be 30.2k @ 28.06kph)

Hi-ho fatso AWAAAAAAAAY!

Back to my rack, I had a bit of a struggle to get my tri loafers on, but eventually got moving toward the dam to finish off this idiotic undertaking.

GET ON MY FOOT DAMMIT

T2: 01:17

Now past 10am as I trotted across Shand Dam, the sun was in full effect and beating my pudgy arse down. Death whistling commenced immediately and did not relent. While the rail trail is lined with trees and shrubs along most of the run course, the sun angle meant there was precious little shade. I grabbed a cup of water from each aid station, had a sip off each one, and dumped the rest down my chest and back in an attempt to cool myself down so I wouldn't actually combust.

This is going to take more than a half-full dixie cup.

Not wearing a watch, I had no idea what kind of pace I was running, but I felt slow as hell - I swear that glacier came whipping past again, so at least I'm slightly faster on a bicycle than geography. All I could do was try to focus on quick turnover and hope my legs held together. Fortunately, the damaged hamstrings and sore adductor decided to cooperate.

RUN FAT GIRL RUN

I tried to offer encouragement to other athletes along the way, but oxygen was pretty precious by this point - I did make sure to thank all of the volunteers who make this awesome event possible, though. It was heartening that I managed to pass a few people, right up to the last half kilometer - clearly I wasn't the only one suffering in the blistering heat and sun. After a blindingly bright and seemingly interminable waddle through the double turn-arounds, the dam finally hove into view.

HALP

7.5k run: 42:13 @ 5:37/km

My smiley face got some compliments.

There was no kick. I had zero energy left when I finally dragged my sorry arse across the line.

GUH

Official time: 2:06:58

6/15 in W35-39 - 57/117 W - 182/286 O/A

So I pretty much sucked, but I did give it all I had on the day. Fortunately I was able to see a longtime friend compete in his very first triathlon just after I finished (GO BILLY! You rawk!), and then enjoyed a delightful afternoon, wonderful dinner and a fantastic play in the very best of company.

This guy is just the best.

It was rather alarming to see how short on volunteers MultiSport Canada was at the race site. If you have a couple of hours to spare, why not give something back to the racing community? It takes a lot of effort to put on these fine events, and donating your time gives you a great new perspective on racing from behind the scenes while giving you an amazing opportunity to see an incredible diversity of athletes as they push themselves to the limit. Go on and give it a try!

Woodstock Sprint Triathlon - June 6th, 2015

Like triathlon's goofy slapstick cousin, this was ill advised racing at its finest: just 2 weeks after the Sulphur Springs 50k, still badly over race weight, almost no bike fitness and a fresh, tender injury to boot.

At least I was stylish in my Vanderkitten tri suit!

Meh, whatevs. You punches your ticket, you takes your ride. Pre-race faffing went fine: up at the crack of stupid after something best described as a nap, bagel stuffed in face, arrive at site with plenty of time in the chilly morning air to pick up race kit.

My race bib seems to know me well.
At least I didn't pay full price for my idiocy.

I got my transition area set up neatly, basically working on autopilot. It had only taken me about 10mins total to pack everything up the night beforehand, and even less time to lay it all out ready to go. 

It's almost like I might have done this once or twice - or maybe two dozen times - before.

Portajohn, body lube, drink water, shiver a little. Did you know that BodyGlide goes crumbly after 8 months without being used? Totally fail to apply sunscreen. Do own bodymarking anyway, adding a little essential that the volunteers wouldn't have.

At least part of me will be smiling through the whole thing.

Stuff great walloping mass of lower body into teenytiny rubber suit that hasn't been off its hanger since last September. Remember that I haven't done a swim interval longer than 200m in at least a couple of months. Feign optimism while seriously doubting my ability to even get through the first leg of the damn race.

I'M GOING TO DROWN

With assistance from Tanker the Wonder Sherpa, ascertain that it is at least possible to get the wetsuit zipped up over my ample insulation.

If one of these seams lets go, there will be no survivors within a 100 metre radius.

Into the lake for a laughable warmup swim, the 20c/68f water feeling much chillier than advertised. Swim most of the way out to the first buoy, note that there is some chop running from the East, get swamped, tired and discouraged. Do some kicking and treading water to try to gently warm up the damaged leg while trying to adjust my too-snug wetsuit so it might feel just a little less constrictive. Realize the only true way to achieve that would have been to put down the damn fork a month ago, and swim back to shore while trying to avoid getting whacked in the face by other athletes.

Werrlllll, I survived that bit anyway.

I was in the first wave right at 9am with the pros, elites, men <24 and women 30-39. So, I figured I'd probably be somewhere around last out of the water in my wave, 'cause I've got no damn business being in with the fast bunch.

Or the medium bunch. Or the less-than-glacial-pace bunch.

The horn sounds, I take a couple of steps forward as everyone else leaped in with gusto, and then dive in like a bloated sea lion. There's a mess of flailing limbs around me, some of which are mine.

GURGLE BLUB SPLUTTER

The less said about the swim, the better. That bit of chop - just pathetic little 14" wavelets - seemed intent on swamping me every time I'd try to breathe on the way out to the first turn buoy. Even breathing to the leeward side, they were just big enough to wash over my head and try to drown me. Not having practiced any in more than half a year, I wasn't having an easy time sighting, but seemed to be swimming reasonably straight.

That's about the only thing that went ok.

Between unintentionally hydrating myself with lakewater and my total lack of endurance, I ended up side stroking a bit...and then even flipped on my back to kick for a little. This happened more than once, though I did manage to get myself from the 1st turn buoy to the 2nd swimming front crawl. The chop was, after all, running in the same direction I was swimming at that point. Heading for the swim exit after turn 2, the chop was now coming in from my right and there was more side strokery.

I mean, I know my swimming is never good when I'm recovering from a tough race, but this was pathetic. Overtaken by the 2nd wave of athletes just past the second turn buoy, I felt like a failure.

To distract you from my abysmal swim, here's a picture of some ducklings beside the starting area.

I eventually flopped & flailed my way back to land, got to my feet and gave my damaged hamstring tendons their first test of the day as I waddled toward transition. I had sort of forgotten that I'd have to run up to T1 until I was approaching the swim exit.

750m swim: 17:01 @ 2:16/100m

Haven't been that slow since 2012.

Fortunately, the damaged leg seemed to hold up as I staggered along and started stripping my way out of my rubbery casing. Entering the transition area, I ran along the rack looking for my bike...only to discover I was at the wrong rack. Wobbling my way further along, I finally located my gear.

LEMME OUT

I methodically went through the process of donning my race number, sunglasses, helmet and cycling shoes (a process complicated by not wanting to strain the sore hamstring tendons by bending over too sharply), then began timidly trotting up the hill toward the bike course.

Leg, don't fail me now!

T1: 01:34

00:12 slower than 2014 

Here's where the comedy of errors really gets rolling.

As I ran along, holding my bike by its saddle, the bars swung completely over to the right - effectively halting me in my tracks. I had to use my other hand to correct it and then try to get back into my cautious stride. I finally made it to the mount line just behind a knot of about a dozen other athletes who conspired to completely block the way forward. I mean, I have no problems with running a few metres past the line before hopping on to give other people space, but I literally could not get through. So, I waited. Suddenly making sure my bike was racked with the pedals in the proper position seemed ridiculous - I probably lost 30 seconds just waiting for the mounting area to clear enough for me to swing a leg over my bike. I did actually manage to start my cycle computer, though.

Once I was finally in the saddle, I felt better than expected - didn't even have as tough a time climbing the big stinkin' hill out of the park as I'd feared, just focused on keeping the pedals turning. The air was still cool, but the sun was bright and my own effort kept me warm. Spinning along in the small ring up and over the hill Northbound on 13th line, I settled in and started to enjoy myself a bit, coming through the turn East and then the 5k mark in 12:05 - just under 25kph average.

While learning that being in the 1st swim wave means there are even more people to pass you on the bike.

I made the second turn onto 15th line and pulled out my only nutrition for the race about 17mins into the bike: a single packet of Salted Caramel Gu. I got it into my face without crashing or coming out of aero - for which I feel like I deserve a damn medal, what with it only being my 2nd ride on my tri bike since last fall. I even made it through the hairpin turn-around, though slowly and slightly wobbly, while thanking the police officers on course for keeping us safe. Headed back North again on 15th line, I climbed a rise and then shifted to the big ring as I came over the top and into a gentle downhill..

..promptly dropping the damn chain.

Dammit.

So, laughing a bit - 'cause what else can you do - I coasted down the hill until it started to level out, then pulled over and stopped to sort myself out. It occurred to me later that I could have tried using the shifter to pop it back up onto the chainring, but by that point I'd already dismounted, coated my right hand in grease setting the chain back in place, and had to stand on the pedals to get myself moving again.

Fortunately, the rest of the bike leg was uneventful. I successfully shifted to the big ring and back down again a couple of times, and tried to strike a balance between making up a bit of lost time and saving my legs for what promised to be a fairly feeble run.

But hey - no crashing!

Approaching the dismount line I weighed my options while trying to gauge how well my damaged hamstring was holding up, and elected to forgo my walking-on-air parlour trick in the interest of health and safety. Coming to a complete stop, I gingerly swung my sore leg - which was actually feeling ok - over the bike and lumbered back toward transition.

N00B

20k bike: 47:08 @ 25.46kph

02:11 slower than 2014.

(My cycle computer recorded 45:32 of moving time)

"Running" to transition

Changing from my bike shoes to my run shoes took longer than it should have for a couple of reasons. First, I was still leery of putting too much strain on my sore hamstrings, so had to be careful picking things up off my little mat on the ground. I was also vainly trying to keep from smearing the chain grease that coated my right hand all over my pristine white cycling shoes, so ended up working left-handed while two-thirds of the way through a race for which I was severely undertrained. I'm sure you can imagine how well that worked out. Grabbing my hat at last, I headed for the exit before they decided to start charging me rent.

T2: 01:06

00:05 slower than 2014.

Shift yourself, woman!

The run may have been the source of my greatest trepidation, but it actually went better than I could have expected. I went out fairly easy, partly to test the hamstring and partly because it was pretty clear I wasn't racing for a PR anyway. As always, it seemed to take forever to reach the dam and the 1km marker, especially since they'd poured some aggregate stone on the trail that was rather uncomfortable to run on with chilled feet in my tri loafers.

Which I keep on wearing at Woodstock, despite knowing the course is mostly trail.

I took the steep descent off the far end of the dam very cautiously to spare my poor, damaged tendons as much as I could, and breathed in the phlox-scented air along the river. The sun was scorching, but the air remained cool so I wasn't suffering too badly. Of course, it seemed like everyone in the whole race was running past me like I was standing still, but that was nothing more than I expected.

I figured I might end up DFL, but didn't really care.

Up the sharp climb to the road, I grabbed a cup of water at the aid station just past the 2k mark and took a couple of sips before tossing the rest down my back. I pattered my way up the false flat to the turn-around, then began the final jaunt as I shouted my thanks to the amazing volunteers and offered some encouragement to the other athletes on course. I'd find out later that I unknowingly said a few much-appreciated words to a fellow Vanderkitten VIP who was having a tough time on the run, managing to brighten her day just a little. Honestly, even if I got nothing else out of racing, that would be enough to keep me coming back.

And where else can I flash the ill advised racing gang sign?

With 1k left to go I was death whistling and my sore leg was talking some serious trash to me, but I pushed on and even managed to just barely pass the guy in the Triathlon Club of Burlington kit who appears in all these photos. He beat me on chip time, of course, but it was nice to pass at least someone out there.

Into the chute with zero kick.

I hit the final turn and the gentle downhill to the finish line, glad I didn't seem to have done any further damage to my injured leg and not having had to walk. Some lady who clearly hadn't left it all on course came flying past me and my TCOB companion, but I crossed the line upright and smiling.

We'll call it a win.

5k run: 28:58 @ 5:47/km

00:05 PR!

Just barely holding off the competition.

Official time: 1:35:46

12/23 W35-39 - 96/156 W - 283/388 O/A

02:51 slower than 2014

Just happy to be done.

So it appears I'm getting slower every year I do this race - I went 1:31:06 while undertrained in 2013 and 1:32:55 three weeks after being by a car in 2014. While I may have a few excuses - and maybe even something that qualifies as a reason - I really would like to go under 90mins at this race someday. 

2015, however, was not that day.

Meh.

Still had a hoot doing it on a really beautiful day, though. Of course, then it was time to try to recover hard for further stupidity the next day..