Prospector Triathlon Race Report

I know if a race has Lake Pleasant as a venue, the race is going to be difficult. The landscape around the lake is hills, with some being rather steep. You can't get down to the lake without going down a slope. The lake level varies and the shore can be rather rocky.

The race had an Olympic or sprint distance option and I foolishly elected the Olympic(1500k swim, 24.8 mile bike, 10k run). Most people I knew who were doing the race were doing the sprint version, which was half the distance of the Olympic. They were long gone before I got done.

Since the lake is far from my house, I had to get there in the dark. It wasn't too cold, but it was breezy. Breezy is not good for a swim nor the bike. Breezy is bad. I could tell that the wind was whipping up the lake a little, but the transition was on a bluff overlooking the lake. The race was delayed because they were setting up the swim buoys. Originally, the Olympic distance swim was supposed to be one lap, but they changed it to two. I soon found out why.

I got in the water and it was warm. I had a wetsuit on anyway because I get cold easier and because I am a crappy swimmer and it helps me float. Anticipating the start is the worst part. You don't always know how the swim is going to go and sometimes to goes BAD. We started off. I started slow because I don't want to get all out of breath and panicky. Sometimes I do anyway. I started swimming and the water started getting choppy. REALLY choppy. By the time I got to the first buoy the chop was at least one foot waves. I was getting slapped in the face with water. This was not good. I stopped and treaded water and considered bailing on the race. It wasn't really an important race anyway. There weren't any kayaker near by, so I collected myself and kept going. Swimmers were going by me and making the water worse. I pondered the absurdity of the lake conditions. It was almost humorous. I was swimming merely for survival. Good swim technique was for pools.

I finished the first lap and thought "I have to do this again?!". I thought that this was going to end up being a really long swim. At least the water was a little less choppy by the boat ramp. I went around again. I had to resort to sighting less, keeping my head down and breathing out forcefully so that I didn't inhale water. I was very happy to get done with the swim. There were actually people getting out of the water with me. Usually I end up swimming alone because everyone else has already finished.

I thought that my time on the swim would be bad, but it was 35:43, a time that I never thought I would swim any Olympic distance swim in. My thought would be that the course was short. I was not complaining, though.

Going from the lake to transition involved going up a long climb on a rocky slope. There was carpet set down on the rocks, but it still was very bumpy and uneven. I decided to walk up it.

I fumbled through transition and hit the bike course. It was four laps of unrelenting rolling hills. I am glad I got my bike tuned up. My shifters were getting a work out. My pace was anaerobic. I would go eight miles per hour up the hills and descend at thirty. By the second lap I had ceased caring that my race time would really suck and just went with the terrain. I got the hang of using the downhill speed to help maximize the speed up the following ascent of the next hill. It took a lot of focus.

I finally rolled into transition to start the run. I had the requisite potty break because I can't pee in my wetsuit and lost two minutes. The run went down a 4-6 % grade hill and then went up it. Then you got to do it again. I tried to take advantage of the downhill to bring up my run speed, but it was hard to get my legs to turn over. There wasn't much life left in them. I hit the turn around and then started back up the hill. Some people were walking, but I didn't have to resort to that YET. I was kind of enjoying the suffering. I hit the turn around and went down the hill again. The downhill didn't seem all that helpful at this point. At least there were people behind me and I wasn't last. Usually I end up being by myself near the end of the run and wondering if I had vanished into some alternate universe where no one else exists.

I started the final climb and I was ready for this race to be over with. I had no illusions of having a great run time, but merely trying to limit the damage. I finally saw the dumpsters that were just before the turn at the top of the hill. People were still slogging down the hill, obviously in discomfort, but not giving up. I tried to pick up my pace, but there wasn't much life left in my legs.

I finally hit the finish line about 3:34 after I started the race. I wasn't thrilled about the time, but I refused to be depressed about it. I was happy just to get done with the race, since it was so difficult. I usually don't have a problem finishing a race, but doing it well, at least what I consider well, is another matter. Doing a race on difficult terrain takes away your control to a certain extent because you can't go as fast as you would on easy flat terrain. It seems purer racing in that way because you are in the moment, racing for racing's sake and not worrying about mere time. In the process, you have to redefine what is "doing well" even if it really sucks by other people's standards and you end up on the bottom of the race standings. At least, that is what I try to tell myself. The whole point of racing is testing yourself to see if you can pull something out of yourself that you didn't know you were capable of. Achieving a fast race time is icing on the cake and you don't always get the icing. At least I don't.

So I went to pack up my stuff in the transition area, where most of the bikes already gone, taken by their owners who had long gone home. At least there was still food left, which was being swarmed by numerous bees. I was sweaty, crusted in salt, had bike grease on my legs and I was feeling really groddy. But I still felt good. I went back home where the terrain was flat to collapse.