Most of the time what you hear about races is the endless and boring detail about the preparation or the end result, especially when the end result is especially victorious or especially disappointing. I’m here to tell you the ugly truth about race day itself for the vast majority of athletes regardless of outcome: it is inconvenient, sweaty, unattractive, smelly, and awkward.
From the first moment you wake up the first thing on your mind is, “when am I going to poop?” Seriously, once that’s done you can quite literally relax and almost enjoy the rest of race preparation. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t plan their morning and/or evening meals to meet this one objective.
On days when its legal (and wise) to wear a wet suit, the struggle can go on for quite awhile: pulling and stretching and wondering how you’re going to manage to get through this as you age because your fingers barely have the strength to get the legs up to crotch level.
Once the wet suit is at crotch level the very next thought that enters your head is “Does this make me look fat? I’ll bet it shows every unforgiving bulge on my body.”
Its generally wise to wait until the very last minute to struggle into the upper half because its so important to get that hand on left hip pose that’s ever so popular among athletes pre-swim. Besides, we think wearing something on our bottom half that’s three times tighter than compression gear makes us look so much slimmer.
Then there’s the picture with our loved ones, who are so proud of us, but the whole time we’re thinking “What the hell have I gone and done!?” Its even worse when you’ve talked your significant other into doing the “what the hell” thing WITH you, because that makes you doubly responsible for making sure nothing goes awry.
Finally, its time to get final race instructions from the director. Half your attention is on what he’s saying. The other half is wondering if you’re going to pass out mid-swim because your suit is so tight around your neck it feels like your worst turtleneck nightmare. On a positive note, you’re certain that this outfit makes you look the skinniest you’ve been in years.
When you’re finally convinced that the dark shadows floating in front of your eyes in the water is not a giant fish out to get you but just the sun going behind the cloud, you finish your swim, endure the embarrassing effort at removing your suit in public, and run to the transition area at the top of what feels like Mt. Everest to turn over the “baton” to the team mate who’s agreed to undertake the thing you are incapable of doing yourself: a grueling 13ish mile double loop mountain bike race.
Trust me when I say he was smiling somewhere between these two shots.
He was still smiling when he handed the baton back over to me for the run. For those of us who are always at the back of the pack, the run can be de-motivational, especially when one of the people handing out water finished so far in front of you they had time to shower and change before you even started your run.
The run ends the same way the swim ends; with a painful run up a hateful hill.
Sometimes the timer gets turned off before everyone makes it into the finish line, which can be more painful than the hill you just conquered.
Despite the challenges of this race, our team took third place again this year and was first in mixed teams. Our prize was a bottle of maple syrup and a new-found confidence in our own personal abilities and the strength of our marriage.
Races tend to make one hungry and tired. We satisfied the hunger with a dinner at Jesse’s, but held off on napping since we needed to be up early the next morning to head back to MA. FireGod took a few moments instead to enjoy the double hammock he hung for the first time this year.
After FireGod’s rest we took the girls for a swim in the pond.
On the way out of the camp ground Jazz wondered what was in store next.
Hilarious blog post. I HATE that hill also