Returing to Form

The semester break has allowed me to begin contemplation about and action toward becoming athletic once again. I wish to be prepared for triathlons as I once was. These thoughts are compounded the lamest excuse for change- the New Year's resolution. Rather than share training schedules or workout regiments, I will share a somewhat comical account of the last triathlon in which I participated. I wrote this the week following the Lake Powell triathlon which occured in the middle of October 2008.

One theme that may be extrapolated from the anecdote is that I could be the bad luck charm for Lake Powell vacations. I have travelled to this great place in Utah many times and there are many stories to accompany the trips, but here are a few events that have happened during my experiences on separate excursions: motorboat crashing on a sandbar, motorboat being swamped and nearly submerged permanently, motorhome breaking down and motorhome burning to ashes. I do not care to re-read and re-edit this tale, so suck it up.

"I have been training to participate in the Lake Powell Triathlon. Last Thursday morning I got up to pack my things for my weekend trip in my the 4Runner. While I did so I listened to the car radio without the engine running. When I was ready and going to leave for work I tried to start my car and the battery was dead. I took Dad’s car and he used the Larsens’ charger before going to work.

When I arrived at Lake Powell, in the morning on Friday I set up my campsite. After doing so I listened to music through my headphones and read a book while sitting in my car. After awhile I noticed that there was some sort of ticking coming from the car. I did a walk-around and noticed that it was coming from the engine. I went to turn my car on to see if there was something wrong when I noticed that my lights were on. They had not shut off when I turned my car off. My battery was again dead.

There was no need to worry since there were cars all around and I had nowhere to go for over a day. I spent the day leisurely by taking a small bike ride and skipping rocks at the beach. I read, I cooked meals and even took a nap. At night I walked to the Lake Powell Resort to get my race packet and bag of swag. I ended the night by watching "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
When I awoke in the morning and started to get ready for the race I noticed that the rear tire of my bike was flat. I decided to just switch tubes instead of trying to fix the hole. I surmised that the flat came from running over something small during my scenic bike ride of the prior day. My camping neighbors were kind enough to offer to jump start my car but I didn’t want to make a hassle at six in the morning so I chose to ride the short distance to the marina with my backpack of gear.

The race starts. After a few strokes I notice that the suit has soaked up some water for insulation. This was due to the fact that it was not specifically designed for racing but for skiing and surfboarding. My weak little arms began to struggle and I lost my mental concentration and got out of rhythm which made the rest of the swim arduous. When I was running up the launch ramp to the transition station I noticed that my watch was full of water thus rendered broken and useless.

At this point you may be realizing that this has been a difficult challenge for the mind. It does not end at this point. In fact, things get worse at this point. When I arrived to my station I struggled to get my wetsuit off since my arms were as mobile as wet noodles. I was now ready for the bike section of the race. However, the bike was not. During the downhill coast to the race site I again punctured my tire and caused a flat in the tire only this was in the second and even less used tube. My pump broke while I tried, with empty hope, to fill my tire. I decided to go on an empty one. After starting on the course I asked a fellow competitor if I could borrow her pump. She obliged and I, futilely, attempted to put air into my tire twice more in a 5 minute span. After about a mile of biking, I saw a man walking his bike back to the start. I thought "I could do the same and pack it in," but I put my mind to finishing all 12 ½ miles on a flat tire.

On the upside of hills I would climb slower than normal since all of the tire and wheel were touching the road. On downhill stretches I would have to break to avoid fish-tailing out of control since my rear tire became a sled runner while being deflated. Partway through the course I heard a metal clanging as something dropped from my bike and rolled away. One of my petal cages became dismantled which left me lopsidedly peddling now that I would be getting now power from my right leg’s upward motion.

Luckily nothing prevented the running segment of the race to go smoothly. I finished. I do admit that I was not as prepared for the swimming as I would have like to have been. I also truthfully state that I was tired during the run and did not push myself as hard as I could. But I do not take any blame for the poor showing on the bike. I know that I would have finished at least one half hour faster if I had not spent time trying to pump the tire up and had full traction with a fully inflated tire.

The weekend at Lake Powell was grandiose nonetheless. There happened not a cloud in the sky during the entirety of the weekend. What added more to the splendor of my vacation was the drive through Dixie National Forest on Route 14. This area is the most picturesque and varied landscape that I have yet experienced."

P.S. I have always had disdain for the song "I Will Survive." It is overplayed on broadcasting media and overused in entertainment genres. I will add that my contempt was strenghtened by a past loathing to any song that one of my sisters enjoyed. However, I recently re-discovered a cover of this song by the band Cake. I now like the song, but only when performed by this group.