Race recap

What a day yesterday was. I’m still processing everything I did and learned, and am already looking forward to the next tri. I’m going to do my best with this post to try and encapsulate everything I can about the day.

I woke up at 4 a.m. after some fitful sleep and put on my tri-suit and made a bagel with peanut butter. Beth woke up too, long enough to take a pre-first triathlon photo. I look more bemused than anything. Truth be told, I was starting to worry about the swim.

After a bagel and some Gatorade Prime the kids got me for the race, I headed out to the wagon for the 20-minute drive to Pewaukee. My transition bag and pre-checked bike were already in the car. As I drove, I noticed that the sun was already starting to rise; at least there were visible pinks and purples in a small area of the northeastern horizon. Very lovely. There was some kind of sports or other talk radio on in the background, but it was just white noise for a guy who was obsessing about the swim.

When I got to Pewaukee, I pulled onto a street near downtown where I saw other cars with bikes and such parking, and just pulled off there to park. (Forgot to ask at the race walk-throughs where they recommended participants park, but it was a good spot anyways close to the start. A little closer to the finish would’ve been cool too.)

Transition area.

I grabbed my bag and walked my bike the couple blocks to transition. I found my rack (wave 21) and my spot (no. 1048), and placed my bike and started to unpack my bag and setup my transition items on a bright blue towel just how I wanted them. It was warmer than I thought it would be, so I took off my shirt, socks and shoes, but left my new sweats on with my tri-suit and wandered off to get marked with my numbers.

(There was something relaxing about wandering around the lot in my bare feet. Weird.)

After I got marked, it was about 5:20. Still an hour before they closed transition and moved all the athletes to the beach for wave starts. I walked back over by my bike. Since it was over by the rear of the transition area/parking lot, I found a spot to sit quietly and think about the day and people watch.

Timing chip on the correct ankle. 

Then I noticed my bike was askew and my water bottle was on the ground. I went over to fix it and the guy next to me apologized and said it fell while he was racking his bike. It was too much trouble to pick my water bottle back up I guess. Then I noticed my swim cap and goggles were lying a couple spots over too. (How hard did he knock my bike?) So I put the bottle back in, straightened my bike and transition items, and took my swim cap, goggles and timing chip back over to my spot and relaxed.

When the place started to get busy, I decided to put on my timing chip which goes around the ankle with an “unbreakable” strap. Within a minute, a volunteer began walking through transition yelling, “Timing chips go on the left ankle!” Three guesses which ankle I’d done… In my head, it made sense. Numbers written on the left bicep and calf, timing chip on the right ankle for balance. Right?

So, I did my best to undo the “unbreakable” strap without breaking it so I could switch ankles. That went as well as you’d think. So, I got up to go over by the mark-up area and see if they had extra straps. Of course they did. Everything about this race was very professional and well thought-out; and all the volunteers were smiling and a joy to see. When I saw a woman standing with a box of extra straps, she already knew I was headed over. I guess all the broken-strap people must have the same hang-dog facial expression. I smiled a “thanks” and switched straps (and ankles), and walked back by my bike one last time.

Finally, it was close to 6:05 or so and I headed over to the beach. I found the area for nos. 1000 and above, and stood in the sand, stared out at the swim course and picked up where I’d left off with worrying about the swim. I tried a few times to distract myself by eavesdropping on the hundreds of conversations going on around me, or blocking them out and staring at the moon or the tree line in the distance. None worked for long. I said a few prayers too, to St. Brendan (I couldn’t think of the patron saint of swimming, but figured navigation and sailing and my name-saint would be good enough).

Eventually I struck up a conversation with a calm-looking athletic type near me and asked ho many tris he’s done. This would be his second, he’d done this same tri in 2011, and was a runner at heart. He gave me some great advice for the run, and said not too worry much about the swim (how could he tell?)

Then the elites were in the water (and it seems like right back out), and the waves started going in about every two minutes. I could feel my heart rate going up, but it didn’t feel much different than the nerves prior to a football game or track meet. Finally my wave was in the start corral. I stood at the back, crossed myself, and hit the water slow.

I found a quiet place to swim and sight behind most of my wave, and was able to do some good front crawl. I weaved a bit left and right, but not too much. I swallowed some water when I was sighting on the first turn buoy, and that got me switching to breaststroke for a bit. Then back to crawl. I flipped back and forth a few more times as it felt right, pending breathing and nerves. It seemed like it was taking forever. I couldn’t believe I was still going to try and bike and run after, as fast as my heart seemed to be going.

Then I was far enough to stand up. As others (from wave 22) started to run past me, I walked smoothly exiting the water, up the beach and to transition. The cheers and encouragement as I went were awesome! The swim was done. My time later showed that despite placing myself at the back of my wave, and exiting at a walk rather than jog, was still under 15 minutes.

I grabbed a water, got to my spot, dried my feet and put on my socks and running shoes, helmet and sunglasses. I put some GU in my tri-suit pocket and went to hit the road. Transition time was a little over 4 minutes, and I was on the street pedaling hard. And still breathing hard from the swim, too.

The 16 miles for the bike course were fairly uneventful. I pushed myself at a pace that felt comfortable, which was all I could do since I decided to do the race technology-free. I wanted to be as in-tune with my body and the whole experience as possible. That meant no tunes on the run course either. I wanted to hear every cheer, and push my body on my own.

Every so often on the bike, I would fall back a bit if I felt I was working too hard (always trying to be up cadence rather than mashing those pedals) … shortly thereafter I’d berate myself, “You’ve worked too hard to be happy ‘just finishing.’ Step it up son, it won’t kill you!” The course had a couple good hills, but overall was a nice ride. I finished in 58 minutes on a 15.8 mph pace, which is dead-on what my training rides have averaged.

(That 58 minutes needed to be train-adjusted, as I was stopped by a freight train just 30 yards from the end of the bike ride. There was a volunteer who took down the race numbers of everyone who was obstructed, and I’m sure they adjusted our chip times accordingly.)

Tom's sign

Jack's sign

Colleen's sign

Beth's sign

One of the smart things I did during the day, started in transition 2. I jogged with my bike to my spot. This helped with some of “jelly legs” syndrome going from biking to running. It helped acclimate my quads and hamstrings, and by the time I was out of the port-o-john and on my way to the run start, I was running and feeling ok.

Coming out for the run, I heard Beth call my name and looked up in time to see Jack (waving a spatula at me, in a “Run Fatboy Run” reference for motivation), and Colleen holding a sign with Sonic the Hedgehog on it that said “My Dad is faster than Sonic!” Big smiles. I felt great. I wandered through the run course, trying to equate distances with my typical 5k here, running up to the horse farm and back.

I tried to give high fives to all the kids I saw, and every resident who came out to cheer and every helpful volunteer were great. I tried to say “thank you” to every volunteer and cheering spectator I could. At one spot on the run course, a family had setup a mister by the street and put out their own waters and Gatorades and cheered runners on from their balcony above.

At home a few hours later, and I still look gassed. 

When I finally rounded a last corner, the cheers from the park where the finish line was got louder and deeper. I picked up the pace and egged myself on. I saw dad and gave him five, then heard Brian shout my name just before I crossed the finish line at 2:50 (since wave 1 started) and heard them call “…and Brendan Dooley of Helenville, Wisconsin ….” I pumped my arms, enjoyed the cheering and mom came up to give me a nice birthday hug and congratulations. Run time was just over 39 minutes.

That’s all for now. In about an hour, I’m going to get a nice relaxing professional sports massage.

Tomorrow morning, it’s back to swim training.

Thanks to all the race sponsors!