Miami Intl Triathlon

I had a crappy race. My first really crappy race.

It wasn't even goal induced (My aim was to "Not get last in my age" and I came in 8th out of 14). I started when I sensed their disorganization at early packet pickup and it came to a head when they announced they'd pushed back start time 35 minutes. I did not enjoy myself - it's a shame, because the course was beautiful.

I race because I love the excitement in the air; because being in the presence of superior athletes inspires me to push myself harder. I like checking out other people's tricks and hearing their stories. I like sipping out of little cups of water and pretending to pump myself up to cliche classic rock. I like waking up obscenely early and accomplishing something before my husband has even walked the dog. I like hanging my shiny new medal on my three year old when I get home and trading race stats with my friends.

What I don't like is paying for the beta race version. It was the inaugural race, so there were kinks to work out, but everything just seemed to rub me the wrong way...including the $90 entrance fee.

Early packet pickup - I arrived a half hour after it was supposed to be open. Son in tow, I drove 30 minutes to get there (pushing his nap time back so I could run in and grab the packet.) The packet folks arrived an hour after me...but they didn't bring the ankle chips. "Pick that up at the Expo" they said. (uh, what's the point of early pick up if I have to go to the expo anyway?) At Friday's Expo, they were going to charge me $5 to park (thankfully I knew the parking volunteer) then expected us to walk through abandoned area with broken glass everywhere. They advertised "Kids activities like face painting and bounce house" - nothing, just broken glass on the sandy shore. They excluded instructions explaining where all the numbers, etc go. I had to ask friend. Not much of a big deal, all this, but just slightly inconvenient. I skipped the Pasta Dinner because I just had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be worth the effort.

Race Morning - They switched parking lots from expo (okay, a little confusing, since part of the expo is casing out your "Race Morning Plan"), we had to park far away and pay $5 for it (school parking lot - not even a public/private parking lot - WTF? why not just put it on my race price of a gazillion dollars?). I'm glad I got there early since I hadn't expected the extra 10 minute pitch black walk.

I get to transition area at 6:15 am (first race at 7, my race schedule for 7:32,), I'm told I have 3 minutes to set my stuff and get out. Wha? The paper said transition area closes at 6:45! I have to rush to set up everything, get out and stand around in a jagged parking lot littered with broken glass for 45 minutes in just my suit? Not happy. I begged them to let me at least go back in and get my flip flops.

So then I realize there is no water ANYWHERE in waiting area - thank god I brought my own....oh, too bad it's locked up in transition area. Man, I'm getting thirsty. Maybe I'll just go wait in line to use the restroom to take my mind off of it. A girl comes out and says there is NO toilet paper in ANY of the 10 toilets we're waiting in front of....this is at 6:30. Okay, now I'm getting angry. Maybe I'll check out the ocean, get a few strokes in away from the start/finish. "GET OUT OF THE WATER." Alright, jerks.

I didn't eat that morning because I had it all timed out. Drink coffee pre-race, swim at 7:30, have first gu right after. It's what I do. 7am they announce my race has been pushed back to 8:05am...after the hot hot Florida sun has come up. Damn, I'm thirsty now. And I'll be hungry by 8, but my SNACKS ARE LOCKED UP IN TRANSITION AREA!!!!!!!

I'm done with the race before I even started. I was so dizzy and angry that I couldn't focus. Yes, I did better than expected, but I aimed way low. About as low as the Race Director.

Three

For the last 10 months, I was a bit overconfident in the idea that I just might have some natural talent for creating another being. Really, I've been two-timing Luck and Manifest destiny, pretending that if I bought that size four dress and committed to being a half marathon group leader for 5 months, certainly I'd get pregnant! It affected me in subtle ways I'm just now understanding.

Among other (more important) things, it's impacted my training. I've become overly cautious, perhaps not working as hard as I should. Even the 1/2 training pace I volunteered to take is comfortable, not really challenging. Certainly, I've procrastinated registering for races too far in advance for fear of the "No Refunds" policy.

No more. I'm taking charge again. I'm going to work my butt off, pushing farther, going faster, because, damn it, I want to. I have the time. I have the motivation. I need the distraction.

I officially signed up for the ING 1/2 (like I should have 5 months ago when it was half price) and I've got my eye on a long distance Triathlon in March. I don't expect to place in the top 2/3s, but I do expect to finish.

No respect for the Towniespeople

I reside in Miami, in an area not yet devoured by highrises, but deep enough that the Postman and the Taxman agree it's urban. Though the locals comprehend bicycling for transportation as poorly as they do vegetarianism ("No, la sopa no tiene carne" "Isn't it made with chicken stock?" "Si"), I still attempt to do all my errands within a 3 mile radius a la Cruiser.

This Death Gauntlet has brought me a bit of self confidence while riding. If I can survive these unfit and abusive drivers, I believe I can take on tougher challenges. So I set forth this summer to hit the Sprint Triathlon series on the Key.

There, folks were decked out in their onsie Zoot suits, helmets shaped like melted gum drops, and high tech bikes whose one wheel cost more than my entire collection of stuff. Enter Crumbs stage right: Baby Blue Townie, with a rack to put my child's seat, big fat round mirror on the handlebar, and of course, a bell. Just out of curiosity, earlier that morning I held it on the scale: 35 pounds. I rode it in, back straight as a chair, legs comfortably forward in proper cruising position. They chuckled, so I thought I'd play along and ring my bell. Amusement morphed into pity. "Good Luck on the bridge" - I heard someone say.

Now, when people enter races with hundreds of people in it, how many think they are actually going to win? I mean, if you are one boasting 3% bodyfat, perhaps, but really, most of us enter to beat our best time, or go a distance we've never gone before. We go to socialize with other sportsmen and as an excuse to guiltlessly order a full stack of blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup afterward. We go to push our physical limits.

So, I take my 6 1/2 foot long bike and rack it alongside the 13 ounce jewels. I may not be able to keep up with the road bikes, but I'm doing the same course they are in decent time...only dragging 30 more pounds up the hills without the benefit of clips or aerodynamic positioning. I'm holding on to handlebars as wide as their wheels and riding tires fat enough to hide a dollar bill if I rode over it. There was never a moment I put any other riders in danger with my wide load.

I reached my goal: I improved my time, I competed as a Triathlete for the first time, I earned a little respect from a couple sportsmen who could appreciate my challenge.
So, ride on all you who ride for the joy and excitement, and nevermind the blockheads who think only fancy equipment makes you an athlete. In fact, I challenge ALL racers to have a go at the hills and bridges with a Cruiser. You just might feel more accomplished afterward. And the pancakes might taste better, too.