"You are an Iron Girl"

 
There are a series of posts I've meant to write over the past year and a half that I just haven't been able to work on until now.

My first outdoor triathlon was Iron Girl on August 7, 2016. I was so nervous beforehand. I worked hard all summer both at work and at each of the disciplines of swimming, biking, and running. I biked the course a half a dozen times, each time getting a little faster, finding efficiencies in how to shift to climb the hills, and just building up my endurance. Most times, I followed it with running the just-over-5K course including the infamous "Gatorade Hill."

The weekend before, Ellicott City experienced its 1,000 year flood (or so we thought at the time), which impacted the race in an interesting way. There were organisms in Centennial Lake that could have been flushed to make it safe to swim, but only at the cost of releasing even more water into old town Ellicott City. No one was willing to pay that price, so the swim was replaced by a quarter mile run, and the triathlon became a run-bike-run event.

I was so upset; mainly because I really wanted to do a full outdoor triathlon. I'd been in five indoor gym-based triathlons, and I needed to see myself put it all together, even though it was my weakest event. I knew that I'd have to register for another triathlon if I really wanted the full experience, but I had already practiced the course so much. It was time to just move forward.

I didn't know that there would be a full expo at registration, as none of the 5Ks I had been in prepared me for that. It was great to get some new gear, try out different swimsuits, and meet some women who actually made a significant amount of money competing in triathlons.

David, my boyfriend, was very well versed in the world of triathlon, having been a Clydesdale national champion more than once. In triathlon, Clydesdales are men who weigh more than 200 lbs; women who weigh more than 150 lbs are called Athenas. Prizes are given out for overall placement, weight class, or age group. One key thing we learned at the expo was that I would be allowed to run with my helmet on (thank you, David); this became important later.

I was excited, after all my weight loss, to not be in the Athena group (though I really did think that name was exceptionally cool). Iron Girl was an unusual race in that men were not allowed to participate. As a result, it attracted a lot of first-time triathlete women, which actually made the race pretty dangerous as a lot of them were not used to biking on open roads in a race. It also meant that they could only add a short run at the beginning because most people were competing in groups that had swimmers with bad knees or had trained only for a 5K, no more.

The day dawned and, as was my habit, I played with every large furry dog brought by other racers. There was a Bernese Mountain Dog, who was normally very shy. She became very puppy-like playing with me while we were waiting for our turn to start. She became my good luck dog for the race, as I saw her before and after.

Our start times were staggered so that only 2 competitors crossed the initial timing pad at a time. My age group took about ten minutes to make it across. I did run my quarter-mile with my helmet on, switched into biking shoes in the transition area and hopped on the bike.

I will never forget that bike ride. I had been in so many 5Ks where I was struggling and listening to other people encourage me who were zipping past me from behind. It was so depressing always being passed by others and not able to catch up to anyone. Well, it was finally my turn to offer that support to others.

I had passed about 100 bikers before we reached the hills. True to first-timers, a couple of times I was riding just shy of the yellow line passing just one person who wasn't keeping to the right and a pair of friends nearly took up the whole road on a sharp turn that nearly caused an accident when others of us needed to pass.

Biking up the largest hill, I started passing the Athenas. They started the race a full 15-20 minutes ahead of my wave. I knew how hard they were working, having started biking seriously when I was 180 lbs or more. It's especially difficult on the long, steep climbs. I knew there was only one short hill after that one, so I started encouraging them ("you're halfway up the steepest hill, with only one easy hill left to go"). And they started thanking me. I've never said "passing on the left" so many times in 45 minutes; I must have passed more than 200 bikers of the 800+ participants.

I started the long hot run, having finished the bike far faster than I would have guessed. My fastest practice run was just over an hour; in the race it was just over 50 minutes (50:59) and so fast that David missed seeing me in transition. I saw people walking, holding hands while they finished. I just kept passing other runners. Then, in the last mile I saw one woman I just couldn't catch who I knew was in my age group. I had seen one other racer at the beginning that far outstripped me who was also in my age group, so my guess was that I was at least a few deep in placement while I was racing.

I made it up the infamous Gatorade Hill (that has spray paint marking the "you're halfway back" mark after you've crested the hill, gone down the other side, and turned around). There was no ice outbound, but a lovely young man handing out ice (lovely because he had ice, not because of what he looked like) on the return trip. I was struggling at the very edge of the very best pace I could make, and I knew I wasn't making any more progress on that last half mile.

As I finally made it to the finish I heard my name and the announcer saying, "You are an Iron Girl." I did it. I finished.

I crossed the line 9 seconds behind the woman I couldn't catch. But I was glad the race was over, and I knew I had done my best. Then I found out: the woman I couldn't catch started the race 18 seconds ahead of me and I was actually faster than her by 9 seconds. I was in first place. As the results came in (which can change due to the staggered start times); I stayed in first place for my age group. The racer I saw at the beginning who I thought outpaced all of us? She was actually disqualified on the bike ride for an equipment infraction (apparently wearing a cap under your helmet makes you more aerodynamic and is against the rules). I don't know if she was allowed to finish the race because her times never listed.

As the final results came in, I was floored to take first in age group. If I had had to stop to put a helmet on, that 11 second margin would have been so much closer, and might even have disappeared. Due to hard work, a lot of preparation, the experience of others, and just pushing through, I came out first when ranked against 100+ women ages 35-39. I was ecstatic, exhausted, and for a short time felt invincible.

The best part was, I got to encourage others the way I had been encouraged these past few years when I was struggling. It was great to be "that girl" who was moving faster than everyone else, but taking the time to support others along the way. And the memory that still shines the strongest is the feeling that I was the best not just because I was the fastest, but because I was first even while taking the time to race in the style of a champion.