This is a special one. Back in November of 2010, when I made the trip down to Cozumel for my first Ironman, my dad met me. Apparently, something happened to him there, because as I’m leaving on Friday to go to Sonoma for the Vineman 70.3, he’s going to be getting ready for his very own 70.3 in Racine, his first triathlon. He’s run a good handful of marathons - I have early, early memories of watching him run Lake County as a kid, probably about the age I was in this picture, when the seed for all of this was probably first planted.
I remember the bags of questions I was asking before my first, and all the nerves I felt going in. They probably sent me to the internet, looking for tips I could devour on how to survive and survive well out there. Now that I have some races under my belt, I thought it might be time to give a little back, in honor of my old man and all first time or contemplating triathletes, here’s my own personal walk through, based on experience, for your enjoyment or confusion…
1. The alarm goes off and it’s early and you’re wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into. That’s fear. If you don’t feel it, you should. If you still don’t, I don’t know who you think you are - you’re about to race a 70.3. Fear is good. Fear accompanies the bold, and it will help you through.
2. You’ll arrive at transition. You’ll top off tires and lay out your gear and likely start a nervous conversation about what’s about to go down with someone stationed next to you. This usually helps, though be careful who you engage. The triathlon community has its share of lunatics and you don’t want Tom from Sheboygan attached to your hip for the rest of the morning. Or maybe you do?
3. Stop being so judgmental. I promise you’re a lunatic to someone else.
4. The sun will be coming up and the next thing you know, the race will have started. You’ll know this because people will be kicking at you and climbing over you and tearing at your goggles and forcing you to swallow water. But you will have imagined all of these things to happen well before race day. So whether they happen, or not, you will be ready. You’ll find a rhythm eventually, and some space, and realize you’re doing it, actually doing it. Beautiful feelings ensue. Allow them to. Be strong from here on.
5. Appreciate the land when you get there. Your body will wobble and feel unsteady. Know this, prepare for it so whether it happens, or not, you will be ready. Note repetitive themes in my prose. Prepare.
6. Take calories as soon as possible. I’m not going to touch nutrition because you should know. Take in a constant, gentle flow of calories. If you don’t do this, your body will eventually think you’re trying to kill it and will make you miserable. If you eat right, nothing about your day should be miserable. If things get miserable, slow a little, eat a little more. Allow the body to balance and recover, then press on.
7. The second leg of the race covers a long distance. That’s why you brought a bike. Ride the thing. Stop being afraid of the course. You’ve trained. Enjoy and push. Watch for ejected bottles and debris on the road and especially at aid stations. Once you cross halfway, push a little harder. You’ll know if you can. You can. Start to see the run in your mind. Crave it. Look forward to it. You’ve been running your whole life.
8. Get off that bike and move your legs. Turn them over and over. They will be heavy and sore, but they’ll adjust. Handle your shit and keep moving. Realize all you have is pavement in front of you - no more wetsuits, or bikes, or transitions. Remember 13.1 miles is a long way, but at least it’s not 26.2. Let the thought of brevity be propelling. Finish, and finish well.
9. Learn to believe in magic.
