tri me

(the double entendres that "tri" posseses are endless.)

Unlike the 4 a.m. wake-up calls we've had to make with the last three triathlons, we got to sleep in until 5 a.m. today since we only have a 30 minute drive to the event.

Ahhh, 5 a.m.

There's nothing wrong with 5 a.m. In fact, that's what time I wake up during the school year so I can get my swim in before work.

But I'm on summer break people. 7 a.m. is the earliest I wake up when I'm not on contract. Nothing happens before then anyway. (the hotties on my street don't run shirtless until afternoon anyway.)

The last I heard from the event staff at registration was that my 'heat' would start at 7 a.m. But we get there and after I'm all set up, we find out that it doesn't start until 7:30. So I had a lot more time to waste. I thought I would spend the extra time standing around. I didn't really need to use the bathroom. Well, I needed to pee, but I figured I'd be in the water soon enough.

Yes, that's right, I pee in the lake. You want to know something more gross? When folks wear wetsuits, they pee in them as soon as they hit the cold water to warm themselves up.

But then I saw the line for the *four* porta-potties they brought along. Who in their right mind saw: 400 participant= 4 porta-potties? So I stood in line. I didn't talk to anyone. While most of the time I'm the king of small-talk with strangers, these folks were talking bikes. I was completely out of my league.

Unlike the last triathlon where we made a mad-dash to the frigged water to make our start, this one, we got to jump into the warm, 84 degree water and hang out for a couple minutes before it started. I loved that.

The swim rocked. 31 minutes. That's 5 minutes faster than I can swim that distance in the pool, and 3 minutes faster than my last triathlon.

Last triathlon I had something I've never had: a panic attack. I couldn't figure what was happening. I'd swam in a lake the week before, wetsuit and all, and had no issues. But for some reason, the mass of bodies colliding, the water colder than Ann Coulters snatch, and the thought that I had no wall to turn around on scared me pissless. (yup, I couldn't even pee in my wetsuit) I couldn't catch my breath, felt like I was choking and had to safety stroke awhile until I caught my breath. (the safety stoke is basically floating on your back, barely moving.)

I only made up time because the wet suit is basically a big condom and water slips right past.

This time, my hairy legs and arms were exposed and if it weren't for the trisuit, I would have gone even slower.

Felt awesome after the swim this time.

Then to transition onto the bike.

Off on the bike.

My speed was good. The results aren't posted, but my math averages my speed between 17.2 and 17.5 mph. (that's for Mike) Most of the way I kept up with most of the guys I got out of transition with. But while I remembered one valuable piece of advice given by my trainer Beth, ("You have gears. Use them.") there were some guys who didn't know this. Which allowed me to pass *10* road bikes while climbing hills. (yes, we have hills in Kansas. Here's the bike route map with elevations)

That doesn't mean I wasn't passed. I was most certainly passed by a few bikes. And I've discovered that these tri folks are pretty nice. When they pass they usually say something encouraging like, "Keep it up!", "Doing great!". Or today, I got a few, "I'm damn impressed! You're cruising along on that mountain bike!" "Wow! You're doing awesome on that mountain bike!"

So when I was passing today, I tried to continue this nicety thing. Most of the guys said "Thanks." or "You too." But one guy I passed on a his Cervelo (a very expensive bike) just shot me back a menacing glare.

Money doesn't buy muscle or common sense, folks.

I finished the bike in one hour, 25 minutes.

Then onto the run. The first couple miles rocked. I was cruising along about a 9:00 mile. Then at my first aid-station, when I needed a gu-pack (a gross little thing that looks and tastes like, well, goo, but is packed with carbs and caffeine.) I was told they don't do gu on the runs.

Shortly after that I could feel myself get sluggish. For one thing, even though it was only mid-eighties temperature wise, the humidity was 80% and the air was as still as a gay man on a hetero date.

Oh, that the route they had posted? Not the route we ran. I know this because last week I ran the course on the map a couple times. A few hills. Not too bad.

THIS course was loaded with hills. It sucked. I slowed to a 10 minute mile and had to walk one hill. I passed one lady who was walking up a hill, hands on knees. I told her, "You're doing fine. Just keep moving."

She gave me a look of "whatever."

I wanted to turn back around and tell her, "FINE! QUIT LIKE LITTLE BITCH!" But I didn't.

When it was all said and done the entire thing took three hours, four minutes.

Six minutes faster than my last tri.

But I felt like dying after this one. I jumped back into the lake to cool down, change clothes, (which were almost instantly soaked with sweat) and headed home.

"Team Kevdogg" was much smaller this time. Trainer Beth had a boy thing the night before and her sister Leigh was going to come see her friend Vicki, who didn't come, so Leigh didn't come. Mom is still recouping after hip replacement and Denise is only obliged to come to one major event every 10 years. She's good until 2017.

Dustin usually works Sundays, so he said he wouldn't be there.

My heart sank. I KNOW it's boring to go to triathlons. The courses are usually set up so that spectators only see people when they come and go from the transition areas. But at least he gets lot of eye candy (and takes pictures of them while waiting for me.)

At the last minute, he told me that "of course" he was coming and he'd just go to work after we're done.

Love to all.

p.s. I think I need to post another provocative post. They're the only ones that get comments. Thankfully, my life is generally drama-free. So you'll have to read boring recants of my life until something else big happens.