OLYMPIC DISTANCE TRIATHLON

At this stage of my life, I do whatever I do simply to enjoy whatever it is that I do, and I probably do more than the average retired, timeworn bear.

Many moons ago, too many to count, for the most part I ceased doing anything physical for speed, recognition or grandeur. Although at times, out of necessity, I have found myself racing against an event clock. I can truthfully say that I now participate in physical challenges simply because doing them makes me happy. And isn’t happiness an important measure of success? It is mine!

Taking on and meeting a physical challenge also fools me into thinking that I’m younger than my current 68 years and 7 months. It’s a comforting denial?

Having said that, please allow me to tell you, dear loyal reader, about my very first neighborhood Olympic-distance triathlon – not to be confused with a sanctioned event where literally hundreds of well-tuned, fit bodies are fighting for space and speed.

Despite the inclement weather, which included driving rain, wind and thunder accompanied by an occasional lightning bolt, I thoroughly enjoyed moving my body 31.99 miles - or for you readers that live outside the United States, 51.5 kilometers.

The three-discipline, self-generated event began in our condo’s 60 ft. swimming pool an hour and a half after my planned starting time. The delay was due to the threat of lightning. Lightning and swimming, as everyone knows, is not a good mix, whether you’re in a lake or in a confined swimming pool.

With my lovely wife sitting in a lawn chair at one end of the pool marking down my laps on a sticky pad, and occasionally yelling in my water-clogged ears how many laps I completed, I managed the .93 mile distance in just over 44 minutes. Being as though yesterday was the third time in two years that I dived into a swimming pool, or any body of water for that matter, I was overly pleased with the clock time. In truth, I felt like I could have doubled the distance with little effort.

Transitioning from swimming to biking in a matter of minutes, I began my 24.86-mile bike ride the moment I exited our community’s guard gate. Moving very slowly on the sidewalk, being timed by my wrist GPS gadget, my initial destination was the entrance of CB Smith Park 7/10ths of a mile from our guard gate. After slowly crossing busy Flamingo Road, once inside the park I was able to pick up my speed without fear of running into barrier walls, scrubs or pedestrians.

With only one lap completed in the park, with fourteen more to go, the rain and the wind began brutalizing my otherwise semi-pleasurable ride. I say pleasurable, but near the end my legs were certainly tired from one hour and 53 minutes of constant pedaling. Not once did I lift my aching butt off the bike’s narrow seat.

Touching on the weather one more time, I would much rather bike in the rain than bike in the intense heat of summer. There was undeniably a silver lining in those rain clouds.

After completing the bike discipline and then lifting the racing bike on my shoulder and placing it upstairs on our front porch, Janet joined me on the last leg of the triathlon beginning at the base of our stairway, after first resetting the GPS to time our 6.2-mile sidewalk voyage. I despise walking and running on sidewalks, but I wanted no more of CB Smith Park on that day.

Numb and tired from the long bike ride, it felt like my legs were barely moving. Accustomed to having the pavement and landscape move rapidly by when biking, I was certain that my race-walk pace was well below my usual 15 minute pace. But when Jan began yelling at me that she couldn’t keep up, I knew then that my relative movement perception was slightly distorted.

Like I said, I hate walking and running on sidewalks, especially sidewalks that are wet and slippery from the day’s rain. Some areas of the sidewalk were dangerously slippery from the green mold that had formed from previous rains.

Focusing more on Janet’s safety over my own, I found myself continually glancing back at her. Not wanting her to fall too far behind, four or five times I actually ran back to her allowing the extremely accurate GPS to determine my walking and running distance. That’s one thing nice about employing a GPS, it isn’t necessary to follow a predetermined, point to point course.

Twice around our three-mile block and then some made up the 6.2 mile course. And I have to tell you, I was one happy camper when the GPS finally read 6.20 miles at a reasonable finishing time of 1:28. I was happy, tired and hungry! One pre-race protein bar and two subsequent GU’s were barely enough to get me through my very first Olympic distance triathlon.

It’s now time to increase my distances and begin training for a half ironman, focusing more on the biking than the other two disciplines.