Chris' Race Report: Federal Escape 2008

Let me just state up front that I wasn't meant to be an athlete. I'm not built for speed, I'm not competitive, I'm not even especially strong. Up until about four years ago, the only sport I participated in was racing to the fridge.

The Federal Escape was offered in sprint and Olympic distances (plus an adorable kids' triathlon, which we watched afterward). My husband, Nick, and I did the Olympic distance race, a .9 mile swim, 28 mile bike and a 6.2 mile run. It's not an overwhelming event - it's only half of what we'll race for the Grand Columbian in September. The last time I completed in an Olympic distance triathlon was three years ago and my finish time was around 3:26. I hyperventilated and swam without putting my face in the water for two, painfully slow laps, after which my neck ached for days. My goal for the Federal Escape was to finish in under three hours.

The men started five minutes before the women. Nick ran into the water completely unencumbered by any fears or anxieties. His swim time was around 29 measly minutes.

I decided to start in the middle of the pack, but quickly realized that my fragile psyche couldn't handle the unseen, seemingly detached, flailing limbs in that thickly dark lake. I treaded water until everyone else was out of reach. If it's not already obvious, I have some serious issues with open water swimming. My deep-seeded fear probably stems from my first-ever swim experience at the age of four, when I witnessed the drowning of a small boy in a public pool. Additionally unhelpful on Saturday was a comment made by another athlete stating that, "Many people die in this lake every year and are never found. The water is too dark to see their bodies."

I panicked slightly for a few minutes, and then began my slow crawl from one buoy to the next. Eventually, I caught my breath and was able to relax into my stroke rhythm. I was so thankful for my corrective lens goggles, which proved to be the best $15 ever spent for buoy sighting given my pathetically weak peepers. I must have been lapped by almost every other participant, but I was only aware of a few people swimming past me.

When I finished the swim and got out of the water, I looked down at my watch and saw that almost 42 minutes had elapsed. My only goal for the swim was to complete it by swimming (in a normal, face-in-the-water position) and to avoid a major, psychiatric breakdown. This having been accomplished, I was happy. As an added bonus, I felt surprisingly steady and strong running up to the transition area. Fortunately, there were still a few bikes left to be claimed (very few, but more than just mine), so I knew that I wasn't the last person out of the water. In the back of my mind, this had been another goal for my swim.

I peeled out of my wetsuit, which mercifully came off in less than five minutes. I decided to forgo the extra sunscreen, downed a few gulps of Gatorade, popped into my bike shoes and helmet and hit the road.

The bike course was four loops which included a few rolling hills. The loops were counted on the honor system. My heart rate seemed unusually high for the first several miles, but I finally relaxed a bit, however self-conscious I was about having the absolute crummiest bike on the course, plus my old-school Camelbak (I can only fit one bottle on my elfin bike frame). I was surprised by how few people I encountered on the route. Stacy passed me going about 28 miles per hour up a hill and on my third loop, I passed my sweet boy, Nick, running in his bright blue tri gear. He looked fantastic. The sight of him gave me a good boost and a chance to employ my highly developed harassment techniques.

The four laps passed quickly. According to my Timex, I took about 80 minutes to complete the ride. It struck me that I essentially have one speed. I can maintain about 17 - 18 miles per hour easily for a long time, but I can't really increase my speed much and I'm completely unable to "turn on the power" for sprints, unless I know that they are ridiculously short (like 30 seconds in a spin class).

I hit the run feeling strong, but my heart rate jumped up again and I found myself breathing really hard despite the fact that I wasn't running fast or consciously pushing myself. The run consisted of two loops, which also passed quickly. At the end of my first loop, I saw Nick and my best friend Byron, waving their arms, yelling for me. Seeing that Byron had come out to support me despite his complete lack of interest in triathlon was the best birthday present ever. I promised myself a negative split on my second loop (which I needed in order to make my goal time, anyway).

Somehow, my age was mismarked as 22 instead of 40 (someone obviously wasn't looking very closely). As a result, I won third place in my age group! The 40 - 44 age group is a LOT more competitive than my new, preferred age of 22, which is just one of the reasons for which I have decided to maintain this new age.

For such a short event, I felt surprisingly tired afterward. My face was covered in patches of salt and my right shoulder was sore from the swim, but my legs felt fine. Nick and I spent the day eating and relaxing with Sasha.

The next morning, I decided to subject myself to Ed's "Cycle Extreme" class at the gym with my friend, Jackie. It was 90 minutes of intervals. It somehow seemed to help my shoulder, and still having traces of my race number on the back of my leg didn't exactly hurt my reputation.