Accenture Chicago Triathlon, August 24, 2003
Buck Hales
One word of advice, if you
are planning on competing in the world’s largest triathlon—sign up early! Even
though the event is in August, it was completely filled up by early March this
year. They had closed on-line
registration, so my running and triathlon brother Saint Stephen and I dutifully
sent in our paper registrations and checks.
A few weeks later I got an e-mail telling me I didn’t get in, but was
put on the waiting list—if I was lucky and got in, they would inform me the
first week of August. Steve never
received this message, so we presumed he was in and I was not. So when Team
Clydesdale International offered me a berth, I jumped at the chance. After all,
since Steve was in, I had to do it also.
It wasn’t until a few weeks before the event when he learned that in
fact, he didn’t make the cutoff either, he just never got the word. Bravely I continued with my meager
preparations on my own. Meager is an
understatement. I only managed to get
into Lake Michigan for open water swims twice. Once when there was six-foot
chop and I more body surfed than swam through the waves, but one other time,
when the water was calm, I turned out a decent mile. And the bike—well, I had the opportunity to borrow a friends
“Tri-bike”. He had retired from the
sport after a career ending injury sidelined him and was pleased to let me use
his SoftRide, in hopes that I would purchase it from him. This was one nice bike—carbon fiber frame,
DurAce componets, aerobars—the works. The problem was that I only got the bike
one week before the race and barely managed to ride it before the race. And the run—well, at least I’ve kept my feet
on the pavement this summer. But I traveled a lot and my running too was not
what it should have been. So all and all, I was ill prepared, under trained,
but hopefully, well equipped for the event.
The worst part of this event
is having to arrive at the transition area near Monroe Harbor before 5 AM to
get a place to set up. And my wave,
#29, was not scheduled to go off until nearly 9 AM. That is a long time to hang around. And my good buddy wasn’t
there to share the excitement. So I set
up my transition, positioned my bike, helmet, running shoes, number, hat,
glasses, water bottles, etc and headed out with the masses to wait. Just after 8, Karen, Ryder and Steve showed
up to keep me company and cheer me on.
Nothing like family and friends to help one get through these
trials. And then, it was time!
I suited up in my wetsuit,
waddled into the holding area where I queued up with 150 or so of my
competitors, and prepared to jump into Lake Michigan. The deep-water start places all of us in the wave in 50-foot area
where we wade for a minute or so until the gun goes off. Just as I was about to
jump into the water I was warned to be careful so as to not jump onto anything
on the bottom, it was only 7 feet deep. Sure enough, I jumped in and punctured
my foot on some object. Yeow! I have no
idea what it was, a sharp rock, broken bottle—something bit me. I hardly noticed at first, jockeying for
position with the other guys in my wave. Then the horn sounded and we were
off. A deep-water start with 150 people
in a small area must resemble turning a blender on. The people in front of me went from vertical to horizontal and
kicked me, while the people behind me swam right over me. Full contact swimming
for 5 minutes. As I righted myself and
started to swim I became painfully aware of my foot—it felt like my foot was in
the jaws bear trap and I wondered just how bad it was. Then one of my
competitors clubbed me in the head and kicked me as he swam by and I forgot all
about my foot and re-focused on the swim.
I had a decent swim too. I
was comfortable and felt strong, and after the faster guys in my wave swam on
ahead, I proceeded to pick off several of the even slower swimmers in my
group. I caught sight of Steve, Karen
and Ryder walking along the shore parallel to me, but couldn’t hear anything. It
was fun to know they were there. Finally
I got to the end of the swim, climbed out of the water and checked my watch—35
minutes, not bad! I unzipped my
wetsuit, pulled down the top and ran barefoot the 600 yards to transition. I saw my buddy Mark near the entrance to the
transition area and he handed me a bottle of water. Nice! Much to my surprise, when I made it to my
bike, I discovered that Mark had followed me in. It was novel to have company during the transition. I looked at my foot, could see the cut,
noticed it was full of dirt, tried to wipe it off, then donned my socks and
shoes. I completed my transition to
bike mode, and with helmet on trotted with the bike out of transition. I mounted up and headed up the steep ramp to
Lake Shore Drive.
Gads, the first 5 miles on
the bike were awful! I felt really awkward, very uncomfortable and unsure of
myself, and I felt like my legs were made of lead. So much for a big advantage riding a fancy bike—it is the engine,
after all. But soon, as I approached
the first turn around, I settled in and started to enjoy the ride. By the time I had completed the second loop
I felt great and could’ve kept going forever.
This was the big difference between the SoftRide and my trusty commuter
bike, which I’d ridden in all my previous triathlons—the level of comfort and
minimal muscle pain after riding 25 miles. Nonetheless, the one and only big
hill up and over the river near the end just about killed me. I lamented my lack of training and pushed on
as well as I could. I finished strong,
dismounted and jogged my bike back to transition. I donned my hat and number and took off. It was a very fast second transition.
I started the run, happy to
be to the third leg, anxious to finish the event. But I had nothing in the tank at all. I felt the heat come over me.
My face was hot, I had tunnel vision, could barely move my legs, and was
desperate for some water. It was late
in the morning, probably in the low 90’s by then, and I was spent. I took small steps and pushed ahead. I drank at every stop and still felt too
hot. Then I discovered the drinking fountains that lined the path and filled my
hat with water to soak my head. That really helped. And I took liberal walking intervals. It wasn’t until about mile 4 that I started to feel pretty good.
Near mile 5 Steve picked me up and ran with me for most of the last mile and
that was great. I saw Karen and Ryder
along the way, got a kiss and a hug (though Ryder did not seem to pleased to
see me), and finished strong. I
actually had a very good kick to the finish line. 3:20 total time. Not my slowest, nor my fastest either. And I did
manage to survive.
It wasn’t until I joined my
crew on the lawn after the event, and removed my shoe that I remembered my
wounded foot. My sock was stained with blood, and my foot began to throb. It was all I could do to walk the very long
way back from the finish to transition to recover my stuff.
I vowed to myself—that I
would never do another triathlon without properly training for it. But somehow, being able to survive the ordeal
being as ill prepared as I was gave me a certain perverse sense of accomplishment.
Now—time to train for that fall marathon!
Ah, back to JUST RUNNING!