All these months of intense training (okay, so it was more like thinking of intense training but really not doing it), I conquered the Wildflower Triathlon. How awesome was I? Well, you'll just have to read on to find out. I dominated all weekend long. Now, when most people make a claim of domination, they are usually referring to their superiority at sports or something of that sort. I dominated at being a Poorly Prepared Princess. Who rocks the house? That's right...I do.
After the disastrous training weekend where I became very adept at changing bike tires (after becoming an expert in popping them), I decided that I needed to be more prepared for the camping trip. Sure it was fun to eat only peanut butter sandwiches for two days straight, but this time I had access to an ice chest. Who am I to turn that down? What did I do? I branched out and purchased other items in addition to my peanut butter (though, I still ate peanut butter at an alarming rate all weekend long). I purchased trail mix, deli turkey, sesame sticks (which I kind of regretted after eating too many without a steady supply of water near me), those wax-covered cheeses, and I packed fixings for a salad that never managed to get made. I was so prepared! This time, I even packed some cups so I could make oatmeal in something other than my mouth or hand. We're talking professional camper here, people. I expect to get called for a nature show any day now.
With the camping supplies under control, I tackled the triathlon gear. Running shoes? Check. Bike? Check. Goggles? Check. Wetsuit? Maybe I should do something about that.
Now, the week prior to the trip, I was really quite busy. I didn't have time to rent a wetsuit in advance, so I decided to just leave it up to fate. On my way out of the city to meet my ride across the Bay Bridge, I stopped at the sporting goods store that has been alternately good and bad to me. Surely they would have a wetsuit available for rent. At this point, I certainly had no intention of purchasing one.
Making my way over to the wetsuit rentals, I noticed that almost all of them had hold tags on them. Perhaps I should have seen this coming. Seven thousand people do compete in this triathlon, and plenty of them are coming from San Francisco. But still.
In usual fashion, no one was anywhere near the wetsuits. I flagged down a salesperson who informed me that this was not his section. Luckily, he was kind enough to find someone to help me. That dude took his sweet time getting over to me, and he was a ball of sunshine.
Me: Hi there. Can you help me?
Ball of Sunshine: What do you need?
Me: Do you have any wetsuits available for rent?
BS: (without looking at me OR the wetsuits) No.
Me: Really, all of these are rented? (I point at the cluster of wetsuits without tags.)
BS: There aren't any.
And he walked off.
Once again, I was dazzled by excellent customer service. Perhaps he is related to the other guy that forced me to decide to NEVER buy anything from him EVER in my entire life. Or, maybe he was just trained by him.
Furious, I stomped out of there, purchased some extra CO2 cartridges and got in my car. I was going to brave the cold waters of Lake San Antonio sans wetsuit.
Sure I was nervous, but what choice did I have? I mean, seriously? I couldn't purchase a wetsuit from that jerk? I was far too angry, and I really didn't have that much time. What was my only choice? Wingin' it!
Back to the journey...
I got to my carpool buddy's house, and we loaded the car. She was pretty amazed at how little I packed. Little did she know that it wasn't my camping prowess that allowed me the confidence to bring so little, it was more my amateurish desire to pretend I wasn't actually camping and, therefore, didn't need anything all that fancy.
We drove and drove and finally made it to the entrance of Lake San Antonio. Feeling confident, yet tired, we handed the cashier $40. Then, she told us it was $120 for the weekend. What?! We thought she was kidding, so we made a joke of it. Sadly for us, she was dead serious. And we paid the money and started the search for our fellow triathletes...in the dark. By some miracle of fate, we managed to spot our group. We pulled up the car, pulled out the tents and started to set them up.
Now, as you may recall, it took six people to figure out how to set up my tent last time. Since I was a confident camper this time, I knew I could do it on my own, so I set out to do just that. Was I successful? No. One of the guys that helped me the first time recognized me, as well as the tent, and attempted to help. We had to call four more people over to figure it out. Once again, it took six people to set up my tent. Perhaps I was a little overzealous in my camping prowess.
Once the camp was set, we sat around preparing dinner. Quickly everyone noticed that I wasn't preparing anything, and that's when I chose to reveal all of the things I neglected to do because…I'm wingin' it!
No, I didn't bring any kind of cooking utensils, pots and pans, or otherwise. Yes, I do have peanut butter, and I'm already tired of it. I have no intention of staking my tent because I don't feel threatened by wind. And of course I didn't bring anything more than my sleeping bag because I'm going to will the temperature to be just right. A pillow, you ask? Who needs that when you can rest your head on a towel? No, I didn't bother to get a wetsuit, so we'll just see how tough I really am. Oh yeah, and I don't have any flip-flops, or a hat. I did bring a flashlight, but I didn't bring anything upon which to sit. I only have one towel (which doubles as my pillow) and exactly enough clothing to last me through the triathlon. Oh yeah, no bug spray. And yes, when I fix my oatmeal in the morning, I will be using a red plastic cup, and no, I'm not concerned about it melting or emitting dangerous radiation into my oatmeal (that will be prepared with the water that someone else boils). Why? Because I'm wingin' it. That's just the kind of girl I am.
All I can say about the following day is, thank the good lord for a food court. After lazily watching the professionals run by us on the long course, we sauntered over to the expo area. While our reason for going was to pick up our registration materials, I knew I was there to eat food from a tent. Unfortunately for me, I ran into yet another snag. In my rush to get out of the house with as little supplies as possible, I forgot my USAT membership card. You wouldn't think that would matter, but it did. That little error cost me ten more dollars. I tried to convince the woman that it wasn't necessary to make me pay an additional $10 for a membership I already have (and have paid $40 to attain), but she wouldn't listen. So pay I did…and then I found out that one of my teammates didn't have to pay the $10 even though he, too, forgot his card. It was clear to me that the universe was against me, and I should seriously consider purchasing or renting a wetsuit at the event.
Once they got more money out of me, I wandered over to the food court, and stood in line for a hot dog—then I realized that was a bad idea. So, I got some faux Chinese food. It did have vegetables, and that seemed like a better option the day before a race. After eating, I wandered around looking at wetsuits. The woman at the wetsuit rental tent offered to let me borrow one so I could see if I thought the water was too cold. Since it was so hot outside, I decided that the water must not be cold, and my choice to go sans wetsuit was made.
That night I slept like a baby. Okay, I slept as well as someone could when they are camping. Morning came, I got out of my tent, and there was no sun to be found. No, no sun. Just…fog. Crap! I don't have a wetsuit! It was so cold outside. I got my gear together and threw a sweatshirt on over my race-wear. My friends and I headed down to the transition area, and we set everything up. Our wave was an hour and a half after the start, so I had plenty of time to regret my decision to go in the water without a wetsuit. Did I mention how cold it was outside? Whose idea was it to wing it anyway? As we watched the swimmers get out of the water and run up the hill to the transition area, I realized that I didn't have any flip-flops. This caused me great distress. I don't like running barefoot because my feet are quite delicate. I never had a problem running around barefoot as a kid in the 110 degree heat, but now I'm a shoe-wearer (Not only am I a staunch shoe-wearer, but I get totally grossed out when others don't wear shoes in the city. Come on people! I've stepped over needles. It's just a bad idea!). And that's when I realized something about myself. I'm a Poorly Prepared Princess. There is so much irony in being a PPP, and I tack on more irony because I don't even care that I am so poorly prepared. I mean, come on, if you're a princess, shouldn't you make an effort to be prepared, and then if things don't turn out right, wouldn't you be upset? But not me. It's as though I've resigned myself to the limitations of my own laziness and lack of concern for obtaining the creature comforts that I want. It's far easier (and somewhat fun) to announce that I don't have something that I want (or, in some cases, need), then slough it off as something unimportant because…I'm wingin' it.
But enough about that. Let's get to the race! Twenty minutes before the start of my wave, the sun finally made an appearance. It was at that point that I finally started to feel a little better about my non-wetsuit-wearing ways. Of course, I was the ONLY girl without a wetsuit, but that just made me special…and I won't even talk about how horribly unattractive I looked in bike shorts and a sports bra. The wetsuit would have been infinitely better because I would have looked like cat woman. Instead, I just stuck out…and the announcers could see my race number printed on my arms, so they announced my name. Little did they know, I'm a slow-poke. So, not only did the entire crowd know who the girl in her underwear was (and yes, it was somewhat reminiscent of the naked at school dreams we've all had), they could follow my progress and see that the two waves after me overtook me…and they were 10 years older than me.
I got through the swim, even though I went off course a couple of times, and emerged from the water. Once again, the announcers called out my name, and everyone was cheering me on, telling me how much I rocked…and I knew, even though I was completely dizzy and wanted to slowly walk up the hill that I simply could not. I was a pasty-white-soon-to-be-sunburned sore thumb! So run I did, and once I got to the top, someone handed me water, and I stood next to the trash, drinking it, trying to keep my head from spinning. Once I had my bearings, I wandered over to my bike and got ready for the ride.
The beginning of the ride is up a 2 mile hill that is very steep. I took my sweet time, as did everyone else. Since we were going so slowly, it took people years to pass each other. I'd hear, "On your left…maybe…well…maybe later…wait…I'll be on your left in about a minute…okay…never mind." We also cheered each other on, letting everyone know how great they were doing at .25 miles an hour. It was really encouraging. Once that hill was mastered, the race was on…until we got to the next hill, and the one after that, and after that, and after that. Yeah, it was hilly. I did quite well throughout the bike portion of the race. Then, as I got to the top of Lynch hill (which was the hill I climbed in the beginning), I was zipping down, calling out "On your left" to runners and bikers letting them know that I was passing them. I have no idea how fast I was going, but I'm guessing it was about 35 mph. I should have known, but my computer wasn't working. I just figured it was the batteries; after the race, I discovered it was because I put my wheel on backwards, so the computer thought I was going in reverse. Rookie mistake! Back to the hill. I was going full speed down the hill when a tragedy almost struck.
TNT is not dynamite. Everyone gets a little down on TNT, but I never knew why…until I almost got into an accident with a cluster of them. I was flying down the hill, when I saw a group of four runners side by side. Not only is that poor etiquette, it's unsafe. Next to the four runners was a biker. How she was going the same speed as the runners is beyond me. I started yelling, "On your left!", but they didn't stir. I kept yelling. I kept telling them to move. I tried to hit my brakes, but I was going too fast. I also knew that if I tried to slam on my brakes, I'd fly over the handlebars. Also, I didn't want to get disqualified (or killed by oncoming traffic), so I didn't want to cross the yellow line. I also didn't want to hit one of the bumps on the yellow line because I knew that would be the end of me too. So, I just kept yelling, "On your left! MOVE! I'm talking to you purple! MOVE!!"
Still nothing. I got within two feet of the cyclist, and screamed at her as I started to lose control of my bike, "I'm going to hit you. MOVE!" Finally, she inched over enough so I could pass her. As I passed, she said, "I couldn't move. There were runners."
That wasn't a good enough excuse, I yelled back, "They needed to move too!"
Luckily, the crisis was averted, and I made it to the end. I ditched the bike and headed out for the run. Man was I tired…and nauseous. Suffice it to say, I walked the majority of the run. In my usual style, I did manage to run anytime I saw a camera pointed at me. It is important to me that there be no records of my walking ways. After much hill climbing, I got to the top of Lynch hill again, and started the run down. I was doing so well. I was almost done! Then a 92 year-old woman passed me. How do I know her age? Well, in triathlons, they write your age on your calf, so, for me, I always know how out of shape I am for my age. It's so awesome. It was even more awesome to see the woman pass other twenty-somethings ahead of me and see them point at her calf in shock and awe.
Finally, after 4 hours and 23 minutes of racing, I crossed the finish line. I smiled the whole way and almost cried. I was so excited to be done with that race. A photographer came up to me and wanted to take my picture. In my mind, I looked awesome, but when I saw the picture later, I realized that no one looks awesome after 4 hours and 23 minutes of racing. Once my photo was taken, I stood by the trash drinking water. Who am I? Hulk Hogan? (And yes, there is a story to that one…maybe later). Once I moved from the water, I went straight to the port-a-potty. Did I mention that I had to pee throughout the entire race? I tried to just let it go during the swim, but apparently my body is averse to peeing while in motion. Talk about uncomfortable.
So I finished. And I told myself that the one thing I wanted when I finished was a hot dog, then I saw the line to get on the shuttle bus back to camp. Now, I could have walked up the hill back to camp, but I was in no state to do so. Instead, I opted to wait in line. I walked over to the line, and a guy came up 2 seconds behind me and asked, "Is this the shuttle line?"
"Yes"
"How long is the wait?" Seriously? Did you not notice that we arrived in the line at the exact same time? Why would I know anything more than you at this point?
"No idea."
Then a couple of spectators walked up. "Is this the shuttle line?
"Yes. No I don't know how long it takes."
"Oh," they sounded disappointed. "This isn't the line we want. This is the line for people with bikes. Where's the line for people that don't have bikes? We shouldn't have to wait with all of you. It's too hard to walk up that hill, so we should have our own shuttle."
At that moment, flames burst out of my head (and it wasn't the sunburn). Are you kidding me? Really, you've had a rough day? You've been leisurely sitting around outside eating ice cream while everyone with a bike just RACED for multiple HOURS, and you deserve to be on the bus more than us? "There's only one bus."
"That sucks." Then, they walked away, and I knew that I should eat because I was mad at the world for no reason in particular.
No hot dog for me--just a banana nut Clif bar and a bad attitude.
Upon arriving back to camp about an hour later, my friend approached me.
"Hey, is your tent the one next to the car?"
"Yeah, why?"
He started laughing. "It blew over. We saw it and immediately started taking bets on whether or not it was yours."
"Of course it's mine! Was there really a question? Wingin' it!"
"Yeah, we figured. We were all joking around that you were probably in the tent when it blew over, and you were just hanging out in there resigned to your fate to never leave the tent again."
"Well, had that been the case, I probably would have just taken a nap. Wingin' it!" I laughed as I approached my overturned tent.
I started to pack up the tent, then decided it was shower time. Oh glorious shower time! Once I finished my shower, I saw the 92 year-old woman that passed me. Upon closer inspection of her calf, I discovered she was actually 72. Wow...so much less humiliating.
We packed up the car, and headed back to the city. My vegetarian friend suggested In N Out (which was exactly what I wanted since I didn't get that hot dog). We both had hamburgers, along with 200 other Wildflower participants, and it was the best darn hamburger I'd ever eaten.
So what did I learn from this race? It's true. I do like camping, and I bet I'd like it even more if I wasn't just wingin' it. Also, I'm still slow.
