It all started back in early May when our ward hosted a 5K run through the Provo River Parkway trail, followed by breakfast. My only insight into 5Ks were memories of some oxymoronic "Fun Run" my elementary forced students to do every year. It mostly consisted of full-out sprinting from the starting line like it was a 40-yard dash and nearing exhaustion after the first 2 blocks (kids have no concept of pacing), then realizing that I had no idea how long 5 kilometers was and for all I knew the next turn around the corner would reveal the finish line—better keep sprinting.
Year after year, it always ended the same way—running down the final stretch and wondering 3 things:
1- Why Heather Sandberg was standing at the finish line, looking like she had finished the race 15-20 minutes earlier (Note: Because she had).
2- Whether the searing flames running through my upper body were the "burning of the bosom" I had oft heard about in Sunday School, or just that my heart and lungs were about to explode (Note: My lung did explode later on my mission in Russia, but not as a result of running or spiritual sensitivity...)
3- Why I had once again forgotten that I shouldn't try spitting toward the end of a 3.2-mile-dash (Note: 5th grade girls are not impressed by poofy-sweat-hair boys with streaks of spit running extending from their mouth to their ear).
Melinda was a self-proclaimed "non-athlete" who had literally never ran a mile (but had grudgingly walked several in elementary). A few days before the ward 5K she decided we should do it. And we did. Congratulating ourselves for having done a 5K, we loaded up our ward breakfast bagels with tons of cream cheese.
Later that month some good friends of ours, Shane and Lauren Dyer, asked if we'd like to join them for a picnic/bike ride up Provo Canyon.
"Yeah, we're up for it. I don't know if you know this, but we recently ran a 5K, so... we're kind of a big deal."
On the trip Shane mentions he's done a few triathlons and Lauren has even done one. Apparently, there are smaller triathlons than the Ironman Triathlon, and you don't even have to look like this guy to run them:
He explains that a "sprint" triathlon consists of swimming half a mile, biking 12 miles, and running a 5K.
"Pssshh! That's all? I could do that in my sleep. 'Cause we just ran a 5K, and we're pretty big time. That's how we roll nowadays..."
One month later Melinda and I do the one thing that we know will fully commit us to doing this, no turning back. We bought a book.
Yes, we literally bought The Complete Idiot's Guide to Triathlon Training.
It was later that day after we'd stopped by the swimming store, the running store, and the gym, that the biking store sales associate sums it up by saying, "Welcome to one of the most expensive sports out there." He followed that up by grabbing several hundred dollar bills and lighting them on fire.
Flash forward another month to Friday, July 31st. We've worked, sweated, sacrificed, and pushed through when we thought we had nothing left (...and that was just trying to hook up the bike hitch to Melinda's car). My 11-year old niece, Katy, comes with us on the hour-and-a-half drive to Layton to babysit Brielle at the hotel while we attempt our first triathlon the next morning. We've got the jitters, but we're excited too. Bree apparently has the jitters, as well, because she does a little pre-race vomiting at the sushi restaurant that night.
RACE DAY 6:45 AM
Feeling well rested after a night full of waking every half hour thinking we'd slept in, we head off to the Layton Surf-N-Swim where the race is being held. Since this is our first triathlon, Melinda and I are in the super sprint triathlon, which is basically half of a normal sprint distance: 300 meter swim, 5.5 mile bike, 2.5K run. I'm not worried, though, because after a month of training I now look like this guy:
We get body-marked (our numbers written on our shoulders and calves in permanent marker) and set up our bikes in the transition area (the place you come back to after each leg of the race to transition to the next leg).
SWIM
As it turns out, my race (Men's super sprint) is first. To avoid jams in the swimming lane, they send someone in every 15 seconds, and they pick me to go first into the water. Not only am I totally nervous anyway, but now all 200 participants are gathered around the pool's edge to watch. They start my clock and I jump in, board shorts and all.
Melinda is standing somewhere farther down the pool's edge, thinking "That first guy sure looks a lot like Joseph." She hears people around her talking excitedly. "Wow. He's really hauling... Is he wearing swimming trunks?" Most triathletes use special triathlon jerseys and shorts that you wear in all three events without needing to change clothes. Our order didn't come in on time, so we had to improvise.
I was so nervous swimming in front of the entire crowd of participants and volunteers that I was really going hard. I apparently learned nothing from my early Fun Run experiences. I was so tired after my first lap and a half that I had to stop freestyle swimming to sidestroke for a few strokes. My rule was, though, that no one would pass me on that swim. Some deacon-looking kid was making serious headway on me so I had to turn it all on again for the last two laps. I had imagined running from the pool to the transition area, jumping on my bike and flying out of there. Instead, as I emerged first from the pool I was completely exhausted and basically walked to the bikes. As a result, the kid was out on the bike leg before I was.
BIKE
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve. This kid was on a mountain bike and I was on a Fezzari road bike. I was totally going to fly past him to eat my dust.
Oh, wait.
Yeah, I was still totally drained from the swim and had no energy. Still, I did have the faster bike and so was able to take the lead by a small margin. Hey, maybe I was going to finish first after all. Enter deacon-kid #2. He was full of energy, because he hadn't killed himself on the swim, AND he had a road bike, too. Uh-oh. He pulls ahead. Since we're literally the first two participants to ride the not-always-clearly-marked bike course, we're having to slow a bit as we figure out which way to go. We even end up dead-ended at a busy city street wondering where we're supposed to go. After losing at least 60 to 90 seconds, we bike back to where a confused police officer volunteer was parked and realized we'd missed the turn right next to him because he didn't know where we were supposed to go ourselves.
I'm still drained from the swim and am not recovering any energy since it's used up as soon as it is produced. By the end of the race leg, deacon #2 and some older guy are leading going back into the transition area for the run.
RUN
"Hey, I've got an idea. I need energy, so I'd better take one of these energy gel packs with me on the run. That will help." I dump my bike and helmet and run through the rest of the bikes to start the run course. Emerging from the transition area, I am just a few feet behind deacon #2. The old guy must still be back in the transition area and deacon #1 is probably still on his mountain bike. Towards the beginning of the run course there were volunteers with outreached cups full of Gatorade.
"Awesome. This is just like in the movies."
But I was still totally wasted from the swim, and had ridden my hardest on the bike as well. I was having a hard time. So as I tried to drink from the cup while still running, what was supposed to look cool and smooth like this ...
ended up looking more like this ...
I was in a solid second, but even 100 yards into the run, deacon #2 seemed like a tiny dot on the horizon. I needed more energy, and since not a drop of the Gatorade made it down my throat, I turned to my trusty gel pack.
1. Rip open the top.
2. Place the plastic tab in my pocket (don't wanna litter).
3. Squeeze a little bit of the gel in my mouth.
4. Stop breathing.
5. Panic.
6. Try to spit out the very thick, very sticky gel from my moisture-less mouth so that I can breath again.
7. Realize that is lesson number two that I failed to learn from Fun Run as I wipe off citrus-flavored gel from the side of my face.
I'm hot, sweaty, emaciated, and sticky orange gel is coating my mouth and now hands. I wanna throw the gel pack, but again, don't wanna litter. I realize I'm never gonna catch up to deacon #2, and buckle down for the rest of the longest 2.5K of my life. Somehow I keep going and by the end of the race, Deacon and I finish within a couple seconds of each other, after having endured another poorly-marked course problem. I did it! I'm a triathlete!
Melinda's race started right after mine, so i didn't get to see any of hers except for the last part of the run when I found her and started taking pictures (Don't be fooled—the pictures make it look like she was walking, but she definitely was not).
We had to wait around till the end of all the races for the announcement of the winners of each race. I came in 3rd behind Deacon #2 and Old Guy, whom I had finished before, but whose overall time was better since he started the swim after I did.
We went back to the hotel, took showers, and then headed to Golden Corral for our celebration meal. Just before we went in, we took a picture in our Layton Triathlon shirts. If you look closely, you can almost see what I'm thinking:
"Yeah. I don't know if you know this, but we recently ran a super sprint triathlon, so... we're kind of a big deal."
;-)
It was later that day after we'd stopped by the swimming store, the running store, and the gym, that the biking store sales associate sums it up by saying, "Welcome to one of the most expensive sports out there." He followed that up by grabbing several hundred dollar bills and lighting them on fire.
Flash forward another month to Friday, July 31st. We've worked, sweated, sacrificed, and pushed through when we thought we had nothing left (...and that was just trying to hook up the bike hitch to Melinda's car). My 11-year old niece, Katy, comes with us on the hour-and-a-half drive to Layton to babysit Brielle at the hotel while we attempt our first triathlon the next morning. We've got the jitters, but we're excited too. Bree apparently has the jitters, as well, because she does a little pre-race vomiting at the sushi restaurant that night.
RACE DAY 6:45 AM
Feeling well rested after a night full of waking every half hour thinking we'd slept in, we head off to the Layton Surf-N-Swim where the race is being held. Since this is our first triathlon, Melinda and I are in the super sprint triathlon, which is basically half of a normal sprint distance: 300 meter swim, 5.5 mile bike, 2.5K run. I'm not worried, though, because after a month of training I now look like this guy:
We get body-marked (our numbers written on our shoulders and calves in permanent marker) and set up our bikes in the transition area (the place you come back to after each leg of the race to transition to the next leg).SWIM
As it turns out, my race (Men's super sprint) is first. To avoid jams in the swimming lane, they send someone in every 15 seconds, and they pick me to go first into the water. Not only am I totally nervous anyway, but now all 200 participants are gathered around the pool's edge to watch. They start my clock and I jump in, board shorts and all.
Melinda is standing somewhere farther down the pool's edge, thinking "That first guy sure looks a lot like Joseph." She hears people around her talking excitedly. "Wow. He's really hauling... Is he wearing swimming trunks?" Most triathletes use special triathlon jerseys and shorts that you wear in all three events without needing to change clothes. Our order didn't come in on time, so we had to improvise.
I was so nervous swimming in front of the entire crowd of participants and volunteers that I was really going hard. I apparently learned nothing from my early Fun Run experiences. I was so tired after my first lap and a half that I had to stop freestyle swimming to sidestroke for a few strokes. My rule was, though, that no one would pass me on that swim. Some deacon-looking kid was making serious headway on me so I had to turn it all on again for the last two laps. I had imagined running from the pool to the transition area, jumping on my bike and flying out of there. Instead, as I emerged first from the pool I was completely exhausted and basically walked to the bikes. As a result, the kid was out on the bike leg before I was.
BIKE
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve. This kid was on a mountain bike and I was on a Fezzari road bike. I was totally going to fly past him to eat my dust.
Oh, wait.
Yeah, I was still totally drained from the swim and had no energy. Still, I did have the faster bike and so was able to take the lead by a small margin. Hey, maybe I was going to finish first after all. Enter deacon-kid #2. He was full of energy, because he hadn't killed himself on the swim, AND he had a road bike, too. Uh-oh. He pulls ahead. Since we're literally the first two participants to ride the not-always-clearly-marked bike course, we're having to slow a bit as we figure out which way to go. We even end up dead-ended at a busy city street wondering where we're supposed to go. After losing at least 60 to 90 seconds, we bike back to where a confused police officer volunteer was parked and realized we'd missed the turn right next to him because he didn't know where we were supposed to go ourselves.
I'm still drained from the swim and am not recovering any energy since it's used up as soon as it is produced. By the end of the race leg, deacon #2 and some older guy are leading going back into the transition area for the run.
RUN
"Hey, I've got an idea. I need energy, so I'd better take one of these energy gel packs with me on the run. That will help." I dump my bike and helmet and run through the rest of the bikes to start the run course. Emerging from the transition area, I am just a few feet behind deacon #2. The old guy must still be back in the transition area and deacon #1 is probably still on his mountain bike. Towards the beginning of the run course there were volunteers with outreached cups full of Gatorade.
"Awesome. This is just like in the movies."
But I was still totally wasted from the swim, and had ridden my hardest on the bike as well. I was having a hard time. So as I tried to drink from the cup while still running, what was supposed to look cool and smooth like this ...
ended up looking more like this ...
I was in a solid second, but even 100 yards into the run, deacon #2 seemed like a tiny dot on the horizon. I needed more energy, and since not a drop of the Gatorade made it down my throat, I turned to my trusty gel pack.
1. Rip open the top.
2. Place the plastic tab in my pocket (don't wanna litter).
3. Squeeze a little bit of the gel in my mouth.
4. Stop breathing.
5. Panic.
6. Try to spit out the very thick, very sticky gel from my moisture-less mouth so that I can breath again.
7. Realize that is lesson number two that I failed to learn from Fun Run as I wipe off citrus-flavored gel from the side of my face.
I'm hot, sweaty, emaciated, and sticky orange gel is coating my mouth and now hands. I wanna throw the gel pack, but again, don't wanna litter. I realize I'm never gonna catch up to deacon #2, and buckle down for the rest of the longest 2.5K of my life. Somehow I keep going and by the end of the race, Deacon and I finish within a couple seconds of each other, after having endured another poorly-marked course problem. I did it! I'm a triathlete!Melinda's race started right after mine, so i didn't get to see any of hers except for the last part of the run when I found her and started taking pictures (Don't be fooled—the pictures make it look like she was walking, but she definitely was not).
We had to wait around till the end of all the races for the announcement of the winners of each race. I came in 3rd behind Deacon #2 and Old Guy, whom I had finished before, but whose overall time was better since he started the swim after I did.
We went back to the hotel, took showers, and then headed to Golden Corral for our celebration meal. Just before we went in, we took a picture in our Layton Triathlon shirts. If you look closely, you can almost see what I'm thinking:
"Yeah. I don't know if you know this, but we recently ran a super sprint triathlon, so... we're kind of a big deal.";-)
