Saturday morning, just before 8AM; the race has not yet begun, but as I stood on the beach preparing to travel fifteen miles under my own power, I felt I had already come a long way.
Before I started training for triathlon last October, Saturday mornings were for sleeping in and overeating at brunch. But this time around I found myself mixed in with hundreds of other crazy people whose idea of a good time apparently includes donning wetsuits to swim in dirty city rivers and discussing favorite brands of energy gels.
I had to wake up at 4:30AM to be at the course by 6 to begin setting. Predictably, I overslept. Out of bed at 5, I was already scrambling. I hadn’t started driving to the race yet, but while loading the car, I met my first roadblock: getting the bike in the trunk. The rental, described by Avis as full-size, had a trunk that was anything but. The exposed spare tire was also a problem. Awkwardly, I relieved the bike frame of both its front and rear tires to make it fit. Having visions of my tires falling off during the bike leg of the race, I worried about reattaching them properly.
The hours leading up to the race provided quite a scene. Situated by the boardwalk on eastern shore of Staten Island, the transition area, a fenced-in baseball field, was swarming: hi-tech bicycles, spandex, loud colors, high spirits, nervous energy. First order: find a good spot in the rows and columns of PVC stands. I chose the end of an unoccupied stand near the run exit. I knew a common rookie mistake was to forget where your bike was located. This one would be easy to find although I noticed the opposite side, the bike entrance/exit, was a more popular choice.
With an hour to spare, I went for a warm-up jog half-way up and back the run course. On my way back, I heard the voice of the race organizer, Joe Panatella, on megaphone… oy vay! I had forgotten the transition area closes a half hour before the race. I ran back through the transition area to get my gear situated and put on my wetsuit. As if the muscular and aerobic challenge of competing were not enough, logistics proved to be a formidable opponent. Close call.
Finally! The moment had come. I had grown tired of anticipating and waiting. I felt lucky to be in the first wave, guys with pink caps. We were instructed to enter the water and tread behind the starting buoys about 50 yards out. “4 minutes!” shouted Panatella with the megaphone. The race would unfold entirely parallel to the shoreline. We would swim down the shoreline a quarter mile back to the transition area, then bike three four-miles loop up and back on the main beach road, and run a single 5K loop up and back by the boardwalk. I expected to be nervous, but I remember being surprised to feel calm and at ease. “2 minutes!” Treading water, I tried to scope out a spot where I’d be least likely to be kicked and bumped as we all charged at the starting whistle. “1 minute remaining!” Now we were getting pumped up. Someone near me yelled “Yeah pink wave!” About to embark on an hour and more of trial and we were laughing.
The whistle blew and then there was watery chaos. The ocean was cold and murky. Even with goggles, I couldn’t see more than two feet in front of me. I was forced to look up every three or four strokes to avoid swimming over someone in front of me. After two or three minutes of struggling to get out of the pack, I knew I was already well behind the leaders. Swimming against a current, my progress was much slower than I had expected. I had expended too much effort in the early going and my rhythm was non-existent. Once I felt clear of others, I remembered my training and relaxed; long and smooth. Not having practiced in open water, I also suffered from lack of direction as I zig-zagged the ideal path. When I finally reached the beach again, I was dizzy, out of breath, and not off to the start I was expecting.
I stumbled into the transition area and sat to regain my balance and change into my bike shoes. I made the short jog with the bike to the exit and nearly bumped into another competitor as I slipped clipping my feet in the pedals. Sorry! After a minute on the bike, I was able to regain my composure.
The bike course was a two mile section of a two lane road which we had to traverse out and back three times. The quality of the pavement was poor and several bikers were stricken with flat tires. Having had two flats in the last week myself, I was prepared for the worst. I was fortunate to survive unscathed. Less comforting was the fact that, with a relatively slow pace of 21 mph, I was not in the same league as the top cyclists who averaged over 24 mph. To maintain that pace, I would’ve had to fry my legs and feared I’d have nothing left for the run, my strongest leg. I stopped worrying about the stronger riders who seemed to just fly by as they passed and focused on passing those I could catch. As part of the first wave, I enjoyed a relatively sparse first loop, but by the third, the course was crowded and dangerous.
As I finished the bike leg, there were actually spectators cheering us on and I got a burst of energy heading into the run. I made a quick transition into my new Nike Frees (with speed laces, they’re like putting on socks) and quickly caught up to some other runners. I recognized a few cyclists that had blazed by me on the bike–they seemed to be paying a price at this point.
On all my training rides and runs, I wear my GPS watch to pace myself and track my distance. This was the one thing I forgot to bring to the race, so I just decided I’d run as hard as I could handle–no watch, no walkman makes for a naked run, as they say. Although my breathing was heavy, my legs felt strong and I was passing people left and right. Had I brought my watch, I might have worried about maintaining the pace, but I without it, I was free to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I reached the turnaround and saw several competitors ahead of my coming back who looked strong, but within reach. I gradually ran them down and made it back to the boardwalk 3/4 of mile from the end. Once I could make the finishing arch in the distance, I started my kick and put one last runner behind me and made sure to finish strong so no one would pass me back. I was completely out of breath as I crossed the line in 1:08:17, only ten minutes behind the winner and over an hour before the last. I had enough left to cheer on my friend and fellow Pink waver Clarence arriving a few minutes later.
Overall, I finished 35th out of 575 competitors. Among 331 men, I was 32nd, and 6th out of 61 men in my age group, 30-34. My swim time, 11:36, ranked 47th. On the bike, I ranked 75th with a time of 34:15, and my personal best 5K run in 19:50 was good for 29th in the field.
Although I didn’t win any trophies, I was rewarded with a pancake breakfast provided by the race organizers. I’m looking forward to my next race, the Philadelphia Olympic Triathlon, in two weeks and twice the distance I covered on this day, and hopefully many more to come.
