A Feat of Olympic Proportions - Part I

I trained all year for August 28th. I was excited and I was sacred. I had done sprint triathlons before, but this would be twice the distance. Before I did my first race in 2008 I didn't know if I could run for 3 miles. I had never done that before, not to mention with a half mile swim and over 12 miles of biking preceding it. Two and half years later I was all suited up and anxious to race into the unknown once again.

Turning 30 this year inspired me to set some goals. One was to run a half marathon. The other was to do an Olympic distance triathlon. Having never been much into sports I wanted to explore my inner athlete, or triathlete as it were. The end goal felt a bit ominous, but I was willing to put in the training time. I was encouraged by the determination of my parents. My Mom was going to race again for the first time since Lake Las Vegas in 2008 and my Dad was committed to do his first sprint. My brother Dave was in on it (he ended up taking my sister Christina's spot) and my brother Danny was doing the Olympic distance too.

As the race day approached our finances began to dwindle. Racing is not cheap, especially when it involves three disciplines. I had already spent $70 months ago to sign up. I didn't have more to give. Maybe I could race without a wet suit. Bear Lake won't be that cold at 7 in the morning, right? I made it on my ten year-old used mountain bike the last two years, I should be able to do 25 miles. I don't need to rent a road bike.It was a tender mercy when the money my parents gave me for my birthday in July covered the wet suit rental and that my sister Kathryn had not been able to sell her top of the line road bike and willingly let me borrow it. Her husband's extra pair of cycling shoes fit perfectly. The race was in a week and I was fully outfitted.

The night before the Bear Lake Brawl was wet and stormy. It wasn't certain if we were going to be able to race at all. We braved the storm and the pouring rain to pick up our packets and get our markings. Race number on upper arms. Age on one calf. Race distance on the other - an O this time. We were all a little nervous about swimming in choppy waters, but jokingly encouraged each other that the numbers on our arms would at least identify us when they pulled us from the water.

Early Saturday morning we gathered our gear and headed out into the chilling morning. The rain had lessened and there was hope that the race would still go as planned. We arrived at Rendevous Beach and claimed a rack for our bikes and gear. There was a bit of a delay. The storm had blown away one of the swim bouys and it was being retrieved from the Idaho side of the lake. Then as the race director was kayaking out to replace another lost bouy his boat sank. Things only got worse for him, the storm had scared away most of the volunteers and he was seriously short-handed.

We didn't let that damped our spirits. We had lots of excitement and nervous laughter to keep us going.




Finally it was time to head to the beach. Olympic distance racers were to make two laps counter clockwise around three buoys to complete one mile. Racers would go in waves by age (youngest to oldest) and gender (men then women). Danny was the first to go. He is a super fast swimmer so I was worried he would be done and out of the water before it was even my turn to go.

Anticipating my start I said my farewells and slowly waded into the water to warm up (or cool off?). The water was as cold as ever and I was mighty grateful to www.wetsuitrentals.com for sending me mine. A few minutes later I had "warmed" my wetsuit and my goggles were in place. The countdown began and suddenly I was in the standard swarm of swinging body parts propelling themselves toward the first buoy.

I'm always surprised by how different racing feels that swimming laps in a pool. The anxiety makes me breath faster and harder. My competitive nature makes me want to keep up with everyone and go faster than I am accustomed to. It took two-thirds of the first lap for me to calm down enough to get into my regular rhythm.

Somewhere around this time my Dad's wave had begun. He was doing the sprint so he had only one lap to finish. My Dad is a former college football player, so he wasn't worried about being able to finish the bike or the run (or walk if need be). He was just anxious about the swim leg. He had done his training in a pool and was accustomed to having the solid ground just beneath him and the constant of a wall to secure him if he needed it.

Things started out great as he waded his way toward the first buoy and into deeper water. It was just after he passed the first buoy and when he could no longer see the bottom that his chest started to constrict. He was having an anxiety attack and he couldn't breathe. He was trying to wave down one of the support people in a kayak, but the paddler wasn't looking that direction. Just as my Dad was about to panic a friendly hand grabbed his arm. My brother Dave was right behind him. Now Dave should have started in an earlier wave (being such a young chap), but since he had taken Christina's spot last minute he had to start later with the 28-year-old girls. He would have been long gone by now, but with another tender mercy he was my Dad's saving grace. Dave helped Dad flag down the kayak where he was able to grab hold and take a rest. When he was ready they set off again. Dave held on to Dad the entire rest of the swim (sacrificing his own super speedy swim time) and brought him safely back to land.

When I turned onto the last leg of my second lap I began to realize that, unlike previous years, I was actually enjoying the swim and I wasn't ready for it to be over yet. When I came up out of the water I saw my Mom, waiting for her wave to begin. I was filled with excitement. I could do this!