The Indisputable Proof that I am Not Related to Lance Armstrong: ChelanMan Sprint Tri (the bike)

I know you have all wondered about that from time to time, but today I will put all your suspicions to rest.  This is what everyone is talking about Lance for, right?

*If you missed the swim portion of this race and want to see how the day started, click here.

Once I remembered that I was actually IN A RACE, I ran off to find my bike (though I initially thought it was stolen because so many racks were empty...because everyone was already on that portion of the race).

This year, instead doing of my usual wetsuit waltz, TriGuy had taught me a trick.  He said if you step on your suit with one foot, you can pull the other foot right out.

I could probably use a few more lessons.

At any rate, I did make it out of my wetsuit after a good 2+ minutes of tugging and grunting. I threw on my socks and shoes, and grabbed my running hat.  And then I shook my head and put my hat down because what I needed was my HELMET.  I was finally ready and gracefully heaved my bike off the rack.

This year, as compared to last, I actually did run jog my bike up the chute to the bike mount.  And, I did not need a second try to get moving, so that was nice.

The bike ride itself was "flat", comprising of some rolling hills. What that meant was that it would be easy for many people, but many people were riding road bikes, unlike me.  I had my trusty hybrid.  I love my trusty hybrid.  I don't crash on it.  But I also don't go as fast as "many people".

I began to see people with orange race bibs passing me, and already on the return portion.  It was then I remembered that I never put on my race bib.  Oops.  At any rate, orange bibs were for the Try-a-triers.  They had started at least 5 minutes after me and yet were kicking my booty.  It was also highly likely that this was their very first time in a race such as this.  It was disheartening, but I soldiered on.

There was fantastic race support on the course, and even some volunteers handing out water bottles.  I enthusiastically declined.

Because as you know, there was no chance I was taking my hands off the handlebars.  Plus, even if I got the bottle, what was I supposed to do with it?  Pull over, stop, open the bottle, drink, yadda yadda...I mean really, who has time for that?

The only thing that bothered me that day was some of the lack of race etiquette.  I know a lot of people are first-timers, but if they went to the pre-race meeting, they would have heard about drafting.  There were a good handful of people that sped up whenever I started passing them, so I had to seriously bust my hump to get by (usually going uphill) and avoid a time penalty.

The most irritating thing though, was that there was one person who completely blocked me from passing her.  The race course was open to traffic, so I had to slow way down going uphill waiting for the line of cars to go by.  I'm assuming she was oblivious, but I was ticked off.
I may have overtaken her on the last climb as we came upon the cheering crowds.

I finished the bike leg with a smile on my face and hopped off my bike...and then promptly almost fell as my hips buckled.  Yes.  My hips.

They were numb.  I ran chased my bike back down to transition, put on my hat, and finally put my race bib on.

I started the run, heading toward my own cheering section of TriGuy, Ann Marie, and Dr. Tim!  Ann Marie shouted excitedly,

At that moment, I did not concur, as I was dealing with serious brick legs.  If you've never broken into a run within a minute or two of hopping off a bike, you should totally try it.  It's what all the crazy cool kids are doing these days.



Albeit, the cool kids do it a bit more gracefully.


UPCOMING POSTS:  THE FINAL LEG OF THE CHELANMAN, THOUGHTS DURING MY LONG RUNS (now with a giveaway!), WAYS I TORTURE MYSELF

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