Massachusetts Triathlon Olympic Distance Tri Race Report

Massachusetts Triathlon Olympic Distance Tri Race Report

How I won my age group…

wormIt’s common knowledge that elite athletes use visualization to prepare for big events.  In the spirit of that practice I’m going to share with you how I expect to win my age group in the Olympic Distance triathlon I’m competing in this upcoming weekend.

I arrive at my race well rested and strong early in the morning.  It’s a beautiful day and the lake is calm and cold.  I get my gear set up in the transition area, rack my bike and squeeze into my wetsuit.

There’s 15 other guys in my age group.

The top five of them are what you’d expect in local triathlon.  They are a collection of tightly wrapped lawyers and doctors.  Maybe ex-Olympic hopefuls.  Cat 1 and Cat 2 riders with expensive bikes and six pack abs. The kind of guys who come early with their training stand to spin for a couple hours because the race isn’t long enough for them.

These top five guys start with the first wave.  They’re in the water and off with a large amount of fervent splashing.  The two ex-Olympic hopefuls pull away from the pack but in doing so gain the attention of something lurking in the shallows.

They are almost out of the water, these top two studs, when they are taken out by a 30-foot-long, man-eating crocodile, like in that movie Lake Placid.

Meanwhile…I’m still standing on the banks of the lake waiting for my age group wave to be called.

Meanwhile…The next three semi-pro guys in my age group are churning through the slightly reddish water and they’re making good time. They race by what looks like a fat, happy giant crocodile snoozing in the mud.

But, they themselves are not out of the weeds.  Before they can make the beach they are set upon by a school of hungry prehistoric piranhas – like in that movie Piranha.

Meanwhile… It’s unfortunate, but as my wave moves to the shore, right behind the 50-60 year-old women, I’ve moved up to 10th place.

With the air horn we’re off and the rest of the pack pulls away into the murky lake, kicking me several times in the head before separating.  It’s just me and some other guy zig-zagging around the lake trying not to be overtaken by the 70-80 year old women.

Meanwhile…The second five guys in my age group are making good time.  They swim past a napping croc, a school of lazy, satisfied prehistoric piranha guarding a pile of bones on the bottom and exit the water!

They are efficient in transition and hop on their bikes – mostly nice $8,000 tri bikes with $2,000 disc rims that give them an extra .032 seconds of speed and $500 teardrop helmets that carve the wind like a hot knife through butter.

They sprint down the road like a Tour de France time trial.

Meanwhile… In the lake, there’s 3 guys still in the water ahead of me and the other guy in my age group. We are swimming strong but get passed by the 80-90 year old women.  The 3 guys in front of us swim past the croc, past the piranha and out of the water and swiftly gain transition one.

Meanwhile…The 5 guys in the lead, who had not been dismembered or eaten, are now at mile 10 of the bike course cruising along in their teardrop helmets and tri-bikes with special air-flow optimized water bottles.   Unfortunately for them, they are set upon by a pack of wild dogs, like in that movie The Breed, and are reduced to an ugly stain on the pavement.

Now it’s just 5 of us.  The 3 age groupers on their bikes, me and that other guy bringing up the rear.

Meanwhile…The 3 remaining age groupers are on the bike course after avoiding the man-eating crocodile, the hungry piranha and the wild dogs.  They are riding strong, spinning away, chewing up road like pros.

Meanwhile…me and the other guy have swum past the sleeping crocodile, the fat homicidal fish and are just now climbing out of the water.  I can see he’s been slowed down by wearing a Tarzan-style bathing suit, like Ferris Bueller wore in the move Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  He beats me into transition because I’m now hopelessly entrapped by my wetsuit like a fly in a neoprene spider web.

The other guy jumps onto his bike, which turns out is a Barbie bike he borrowed from his niece with the banana seat, chopper handle bars and the pink tassels coming out of the hand grips.  He thought he had signed up for a 5k road race.  When he found out it was an Olympic distance tri he decided, “what the heck”, borrowed a bike and gave it a try.

Meanwhile… the three guys left in front have completed the bike.  They jump into their shoes trying not to laugh at me still on the beach, being cut out of my wetsuit by emergency technicians.

They are off and looking strong 1-2-3!

After ten minutes of struggle and near asphyxiation, I’m out of my wet suit and onto Fuji-San for the 22 mile bike.  Now we’ll make up some time on Mr. Barbie Bike.

Meanwhile… and unfortunately for the 3 age groupers left in the front, they are set upon by a genetically engineered Sabertooth Tiger escaped from an experimental gene splicing facility – like in the move Sabertooth and carried into the forest to be consumed later at the big cat’s leisure.

Now it’s just me and Mr. Barbie bike.  I would have caught him already, if I hadn’t gotten a little lost because the course volunteers had decided no one could swim that slowly, thought the race was over and went home.

Finally find my way back onto the course and into transition two, missing the other guy by 5 minutes.  I’m into my Hokas and the game is on.

I work my way up through the pack.  I pass the 90 year-olds.  I pass the 80 year-olds. And I even begin to pass the 70 year-olds.  I’m reeling them in now.  I’ve got my good form on with my hips forward and my shoulders high.  I’m flying down the course passing them like they’re traffic cones in a parking lot.

Just as I’m coming into the last stretch I see the other guy up ahead.  I’ve got him in my sites but I’m running out of race course.  I put a kick on, but It looks like he’s going to beat me into the finish chute that is set up on the beach.

But, just as he’s about to finish he gets tripped up by a rogue sand worm – like the one that tried to get Kevin Bacon in the movie Tremors, and then a bunch of other people in Tremors 2, Tremors 3 and explained in the origin story prequel Tremors 4 “The Legend Begins”.

I have a full head of steam and adroitly vault his prone body to blast through the chute.

And that’s how I win my age group next weekend in my Olympic distance triathlon.

 

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