It was an amazing race and I made personal bests in both swimming and cycling. And that includes stopping to help an injured cyclist until the medic team from the race got there. The run was hard. That loop at the north end of Central Park had one big hill that was wreaking havoc on all of us. The heat was oppressive. Thankfully, there was an aid station (hydration and energy bars) just over the crest. There is so much I don't even know where to start. I'm so glad I Tri- ed!
UPDATE: Sorry folks, it is long and rambling, but everything is still a whirlwind.
My First Tri
by Nutmegger911
Earlier last week - Everyone at the triathlon club meeting is giving me advice. Other than have fun, no two people had the same advice. The takaway? Have fun and do what works for you.
Friday – Pack, pack, pack, and pack some more. It is amazing how much sh stuff you need for a triathlon. And I’m packing light. No wetsuit, no spare clothes, just gear. This is the real reason they have you do weight training. You have to bring all your gear with you.
Saturday – Arrive in New York and get me and all my stuff to the hotel. Now I know why they call it Lug - age. You lug it around and it ages you. My room isn’t ready, so I check my bags and head off for the expo. There is so much going on it is overwhelming. A news crew interviewing a famous triathlete and he is talking about lofty triathlon stuff. This guy is HUGE! After the interview I ask him if he has any advice for a newbie. He says I should take it slow.
After the expo I went to the mandatory athlete briefing. All bikes have to be checked into transition on Saturday, so I load up my gear (tons of stuff) and ride twenty some-odd blocks to transition. Everyone is hanging their bikes on the racks but nobody is setting up the rest of their gear. Another professional athlete informs me that the cough*real*cough athletes bring their transition gear on the morning of the tri. Oh well, this “unreal” athlete’s gear is staying overnight. I ask her advice and she says take it slow. (Hmm, the professionals are the only ones telling me to take it slow. Wonder why that is.)
There is a transition tour available, which is very helpful. They explain the transition rules, show us the technical cycling turn right out of transition, and it becomes apparent that we will be expected to run a half mile barefoot from the swim exit to transition. :yikes:
Next order of business is to find some pasta. This is New York and if there is one thing you can find in New York, it is fantastic Italian food. This amazing city doesn’t disappoint. The first place I wander into has the most exquisite fettuccini Alfredo. Carb loading is the best part of training.
All full and ready for bed. Set the alarm, tuck in, check the alarm, tuck in again, once more just to be sure – okay, now off to bed with me.
Sunday, 3:15 a.m. – The alarm goes off and I’m waiting for it.
Board the bus, the display at the front says 3:45 a.m. 84 degrees F. This is two hours before race start! :yikes:
It is still dark when we reach transition. It is eerily quiet and the bikes make quite a view all lined up with the river and the skyline in the background. It really is beautiful. One last check of my gear then walk a mile and a half to the swim start. On the way I leave a pair of old sneakers at the swim exit. (Shhhh!)
5:45 a.m. National Anthem, then the swim starts in waves every three minutes. We are all in staging areas that strangely resemble cattle pens. I am the only athlete not wearing a wetsuit. The professional athletes go first and they are scary fast. Our group gets called and I’m the first one out on the barge. We jump in the water and grab the start rope. The water is warm and the current is strong. We are holding on for all we’re worth and the river has us all backwards. When the starting horn blows chaos ensues. We all make a mad dash to right ourselves and get to the finish line.
Swimming the Hudson is a contact sport. Arms and legs are flailing and visibility is zero. I take a fist to the back then someone kicks me in the eye. I give them some space but the current catches me. A guy pulls up in a kayak and yells “Hey, you’re headed for New Jersey!” Great! I refocus and head back to New York. Another swimmer is grabbing my ankle. You would think it was a mosh pit. Between the choppy water and the surprise pull from behind I get a mouthful of the Hudson. Finally the finish barge comes into sight and what a sight it is! I reach the barge and a legion of strapping young men is there to help us out of the water. They hose the silt off me as I leave the dock. I’ve been baptized in the Hudson. Halleluiah!
The sneakers are still there. Yes! I run the half-mile to transition then take for - ev - er to get shoes and socks on (it is really hard when you are wet). Helmet is a must – don’t want to get DQ’d. Run out with my bike and mount as soon as I cross the transition line. There are three technical turns right at the start of the cycling race and the only casualty is one of my water bottles. The Henry Hudson Parkway is closed to traffic but the professional cyclists make the sound of cars passing. Those folks are faaaaaast! The ride THUMP is hilly and relatively THUMP smooth, except THUMP for the expansion joints; THUMP each of which is followed by a water bottle or two.
I settle into a decent pedaling cadence and enjoy the scenery. The buildings are amazing and the view of the Hudson is beautiful. There is an awe inspiring view of the Palisades from one spot. I pass the time counting different things dropped in the road. There are a jillion and two water bottles, eight kazillion Goo packets, two bike chains (that can’t be good) and a few ra… I mean New York squirrels. We go over a toll bridge near the northern end of the bike course and the police don’t stop us for not having EZPass (it’s a New York thing). A hard merge, a couple more miles, and a hairpin turn come before the southern part of the ride. I take a bite of my energy bar and gain a new sympathy for the dog with peanut butter on the roof of its mouth. There is no such thing as enough hydration in this heat.
On the return trip I come across a cyclist who wiped out at the merge and stay with her until the medical team gets there. She left the course in the back of an ambulance, poor thing. Back on track, I spend the rest of the cycling race playing cat and mouse with several other cyclists. We are pretty evenly matched.
I make the technical turn at the south end of the course then almost wipe out when I hit a sewer grate. Thankfully, all goes well and I pull into transition unscathed, dismount, and start the run.
If you have never been to New York before it is surprisingly hilly. In fact, throughout the whole race if you weren’t in the Hudson River, you were on a hill. An experienced triathlete warned me about the climb at the start of the run. They were right. It was steep. Only 6.2 miles to go the streets are lined with cheering crowds, but the heat is starting to take it’s toll. There are athletes dropping out of the race. I keep drinking my G2 (carried two bottles for the run) and additional hydration at every aid station.
The running course it a loop around Central Park. At the northern end of the park there is this never-ending hill. All the athletes are running slower, and slower, and s-l-o-w-e-r. If ever there was a time I felt like giving up it was on that hill. Just then a blind guy came running up tethered to a sighted person by a bungee cord. Okay, no excuses; shut up and run.
The run is so long. Someone said the finish line was right around the next corner. They lied. Two more corners and there it is – the finish line. The crowd goes wild as each athlete passes. The electronic chip beeps, recording my crossing and someone puts a medal around my neck. Someone else hands me a bottle of water and a towel soaked with ice water. That person is a genius! Glory halleluiah! I’m a triathlete.
for all the hard work you put into getting there in the first place!!!! 
(OK, it's not a perfect smiley-description of a triathlon, but I tried!) 
