A run and money fun

I ran a 5K today! Not the colorful Run or Dye race that also happened this morning, but a free race at a community health fair in Apple Valley. It was a pleasant little run through a nice neighborhood. My time was very close to my triathlon time, which I'm happy with considering how little I've trained this year. (I blame the weather and my baby...and laziness)

On our way home we stopped in to sign off on the drawings for our new kitchen countertops. Earlier this year we decided that we needed to replace our ~20-30 year old counters since they are de-laminating as I type. We're pretty excited about how it is going to change the look of our kitchen

Then, after signing that money away we headed home and the garage door didn't quite close properly. Hmmm. It sure is out of level. And it sure is stuck and won't open again. One service call later and we've got a new garage door being installed on Monday.

Oh, and lest we forget... Some of you may know that we had one furnace failure during each of the previous two winters and an AC failure during last summer. I feel like our HVAC system is taunting us. I'm always thinking in the back of my mind...can it make it through one more winter or do I have to bite the bullet and replace it all?

Isn't being a home owner fun? I'm glad I was introduced to the concept of of an Emergency Fund a number of years ago. Having one doesn't make it enjoyable to replace a garage door unexpectedly, but it does make it easier.

Blast from the Past: Babyshitter

I used to write a blog (no, not this one) called Just Plain Chips. It was first hosted on Blogspot/Blogger (http://justplainchips.blogspot.com/) and then at a free Word Press blog site called Blogsome. I found out within the last year that Blogsome went down at some point and took all of my old posts with it. Sure, that's not really much of a loss and it was really my fault for not backing up my data and generally neglecting the site.

There were a few posts that I was actually proud of and one in particular has been on my mind in the last couple months. I had been back in the Twin Cities for just under a half year, my niece Elaina was about 3 months old, and I was called upon by my brother and sister-in-law to babysit. Not the babysitting where you're running around in the yard with a bunch of kids, or sitting on the couch watching Disney movies. No, this was actually watching a baby, a 3 month old baby. It was one of those seminal experiences that never quite leaves you and I was sad I couldn't read about it again. But through the magic of the internet (and my actually remembering to go looking) I was able to finally find a cached copy of the post.

So here it is, with only minimal editing (I couldn't help myself.) I hope you enjoy.

Babyshitter

posted on Saturday, August 13, 2005 10:18 am

Okay, so I babysat for Matt and Jenny last night. I got to their house and before they left Emily came over to get Luke. She was going to take him to see the demolition derby at the Dakota County Fair where Tom was working in the pit for one of the cars. So before babysitting even started I was down to only one kid.

I got there right about Elaina's feeding time so I made a bottle and she was happy to start eating. After two ounces I sat her up and started burping her. All of a sudden I feel a little rumbling on my leg and little “toot” noises coming out of my niece.

“What are you doing, little girl?” I asked her.
Matt laughed and told me, “It’s probably just gas.” and then to Jenny, “Let’s get out of here quick.”

So they took off and I fed Elaina the rest of her bottle. After she was done I played with her on the couch and on the floor and I walked her around. I checked her diaper at one point and lo, it was time for it to be changed. It didn’t seem to smell too bad, but I didn’t know for sure since my nose was a little stuffed up. I headed up stairs for my first ever diaper change with a little bit of worry over what I would find.

I opened up the diaper and there was nothing really to see. “Phew!” I let out a big sigh of relief and I went about changing my first wet diaper. It went pretty easy and I was quite proud of myself.
“Well,” I told myself, “I’m glad that’s over with.” and walked back downstairs with a happy baby.

We played and talked for another couple hours and it was about time for her next feeding. I made up another bottle and we started to go. But before long her eyes started drooping and she just wasn't interested in her bottle. Time for a nap. I set her in her little cradle/swing and she was out in a couple of seconds.

I took the opportunity to relax on the couch and watch the opening quarter of the Vikings' preseason game. After about a half hour Jenny’s parents showed up to say 'hi' to Elaina and drop off their laptop which I’m going to do a little work on. After they had been there for a few minutes Elaina woke up and smiled and cooed at her grandparents. When they left it was time to continue the feeding.

Elaina really took to her bottle at first but after a couple of minutes she suddenly didn’t seem as interested. Her face got all serious and scrunched up. Her legs kicked out straight and her toes curled up. I didn’t like the look of this. All of a sudden I heard a “toot” sound slightly different than before and another rumbling on my leg. And then it hit me…the smell! OKAY! My nose works and this is no false alarm. She did her scrunched face and straight leg thing a little more and then started crying. I felt like crying myself my nose and eyes were burning. So I carried her upstairs with outright dread this time.

I got her on her changing table and the smell continued to be pretty strong. But when I undid her diaper and raised her legs up it was as if something solid hit me in the face. The smell hit me again to complete the ol’ one-two combination. I looked down and saw nothing solid. Just a dark green goo with a paste-like consistency. It was completely nasty and there was a lot of it.

I set the diaper aside and went in with the wipes. They had looked so substantial a second ago. Now they seemed as dainty and strong as a lace doily. I would wipe what I thought was a significant amount of the stuff away but there was always more waiting underneath. I probably used three times the number of wipes that Jenny and Matt usually use. But I didn’t get any on my hands and Elaina was spotless when I was done.

The problem now became disposing of the diaper. Usually Matt and Jenny just wrap the diaper and the wipes into itself and toss the whole thing into the garbage. Not this time. I would have had to bend the laws of physics and geometry to accomplish such a feat without getting the muck on my hands; and that wasn’t going to happen. So I tucked the cleaner ends into the diaper as best I could and I got Elaina into a new diaper and then into her little swing. I went hunting for a suitable plastic bag. I finally found one and picked up the mass of diaper and wipes like you pick up your dog’s mess while out on a walk. A few twists and a knot and the bag went into the garbage. The crisis was over.

So I went and played with Elaina until about 9pm and made her the last bottle of the night. She easily drank down her 4 oz. She was tired while drinking but as soon as I sat her up to be burped she’d wake right up. I put her in her crib, she wouldn’t fall asleep. I put her in her swing, she didn’t fall asleep. I carried her around, she didn’t fall asleep. I put her in her crib again and she didn’t fall asleep right away, but neither did she cry about it. Before too long she was silent and blissfully slumbering.

Right after she fell asleep Tom and Emily brought Luke home. He had had a great time but it was way past his bed time. He resisted a little when I told him to come up stairs for bed, but not much. So we went to his bed and I read him a story about a frog. After the story was done I pulled up his covers and he turned over, holding the fire engine cards he got at the fair, and was out in just a couple of minutes.

Matt and Jenny got home a little less than an hour later and my time there was done. I think I’m a real babysitter now.

Things coming round

Clearly I haven't written here in too long. I apologize to my intrepid readers.

It isn't as though there hasn't been anything exciting going on.

I must also apologize to my future-self for not having documented the birth and first weeks of my son's life. It has been quite an experience to have a child. I'm responsible for more than just myself, which is not and unscary thought.

But what I came here to write isn't anything profound like that but only a passage I read lately that stuck with me.

I'm reading Bleak House by Charles Dickens on the recommendation of my mother-in-law after having enjoyed Moby-Dick, The House of the Seven Gables, and various other "classic" books. I've been enjoying it for the most part though, and this is strange to me because of my experience in reading epic fantasy, I'm having a bit of trouble keeping all of the characters straight.

Multiple disparate threads of the story are seemingly coming together ever so slowly as characters from one thread are starting to interact with those in other threads. Dickens did a nice thing in giving his characters unique, funny, and even descriptive names, but for some reason it isn't helping very much.

Anyway, the book was published in 1852 and 1853 and it was amazing to read something that must have been true back then but still so very true today and that hits home in my own life. I suppose that is what helps make something a classic.

Here is the setup and the passage:
Three men, Mr. Smallweed, Mr. Guppy, and Mr. Jobling are having dinner and afterwards turn to Mr. Jobling's prospects. Mr. Jobling has come into a streak of bad luck lately and has been leeching off of Mr. Smallweed for food and drink all evening. In the discussion Jobling utters this line followed by the narrator's commentary.

"Guppy," says Mr. Jobling, "I will not deny it. I was on the wrong side of the post. But I trusted to things coming round.
That very popular trust in flat things coming round! Not in their being beaten round, or worked round, but in their "coming" round! As though a lunatic should trust in the world's "coming" triangular!

It is so true! So many people, myself included, just sit "content" in their lives and wait for things to get better. (But then complain when nothing improves and complain when things go better for others) How many of us, if we're really honest, really work at making things better? I know I usually don't. But those times that I did, things did improve. Or wonderful things happened. It is a lesson I need to continually remind myself of. Sometimes you need to take your life and beat it in to the shape you'd like instead of merely waiting for it to come round.

What have I been reading?

I feel like I really need to do a few posts on something other than some physical activity. And I also feel very disappointed in myself that I haven't even recorded what I've been reading. Let alone what I thought about anything. So that's how we arrive at this post.

Right now at home I am reading Softwar: An Intimate Portrait of Larry Ellison and Oracle. This follows right on the heels of Steve Jobs and Hard Drive: Bill Gates and the Making of the Microsoft Empire. I borrowed Softwar and Hard Drive from a friend a long, long time ago and then my (Apple-loving) father-in-law loaned me Steve Jobs' biography to read. Having this trilogy of technology biographies finally spurred me to read them.

I decided to try and read Steve Jobs and Bill Gates quasi-simultaneously to try and get a contrasting picture of these two contemporary giants of the computer industry and see if I could figure out why one was so loved and the other so hated. One problem with that task is that Steve Jobs was published last year after the amazing rise of Apple following the production of the iPod and Hard Drive was published in 1994 as Windows 3.1 was dominating the world of the PC but the crazy success of Windows 95 hadn't even happened yet. The other was that the writing in the Steve Jobs book was far superior. The authors of Hard Drive even used the phrase "He could care less" once. I had to put the book down and switch back to Steve Jobs after that one. I found both books very interesting and enlightening.
After reading the two books and trying the answer the question I posed above I really couldn't figure out why Jobs is so loved and Gates so hated. Again, the publication dates are one thing, it would be very interesting to read about Gates from the 90s through the 00s including the DOJ anti-trust suit. But solely based these books it seems like Jobs is loved because the typical person in the modern United States cares mostly about consumer goods and not much else. Other than a nice sense of design I didn't find much admirable in Steve Jobs. He was a jerk of a sociopath who denied reality right up to refusing to let his cancer be treated. While Gates could be ruthless and driving/driven he didn't seem quite so detached from reality and actually had the technical skills and knowledge that his company was built upon. That's my biased opinion anyway.

I also finished two other books recently. I finished A Tale of Two Cities today on my bus ride home. Then this weekend I took a break from Softwar to read one of my all-time favorite books: Ender's Game.
First, Ender's Game is a sci-fi book telling the story of an amazingly gifted boy who must find a way to live up to his potential quickly enough to save the human race from the threat of extinction by an alien race. It is just a great story with perfect pacing and a surprising conclusion.
Then, as happened with War and Peace and the Napoleonic Wars, I got more of a history lesson on the French Revolution from A Tale of Two Cities than I can remember ever learning at any level of school. And while written from the viewpoint of an Englishman, the French Revolution sounds like a horrendous time all around. The book was of course excellently written and filled with wonderful characters, some of whom kept me wondering right up until very nearly the end.

That's what I can remember reading in the last few months. I wish I had kept a better record because I know I've read other great books that I can't remember now. Up next I'm planning to finish reading The Dark Tower. I can't quite remember exactly where I left off. I think I finished the fourth book, but I think I'll start there again just to get back into it. After that the plan would be to at least start The Dresden Files, which I've heard many good things about. At home I plan to go on another biography kick, but this time on American presidents. I own books on John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln, and plan to get one on George Washington.

Well, that's all for now.

What have you been reading?

Triathlon Transition 2 and the Run: Finding a Rhythm

As I've recalled my triathlon experience to write about it I have found myself wishing for some kind of device that could record ones thoughts as they are happening and then enable you to play them back later. I have read some studies that say just the act of recalling a memory changes the memory in your brain. That means that nothing you remember happened exactly the way you think. And every time you remember something it changes slightly in your mind.

Was I really nervous and even scared during my swim as the waves washed over my face? Or was I really just more frustrated with my lack of swimming ability and angry at my poor training? (or annoyed at my brother and dad for getting me into that mess)
What exactly was my state of mind during my first transition? How did I lose track of time that badly?
Did I consciously try to not bike very fast or what exactly went into the speed I went? Did I enjoy the ride as much as I think I did, or is it all relative to my perceptions of the swim?

Anyway, I got into the transition area after the bike, walked back to my spot, hung my bike back up, and got down to business. Again, at Brenden-speed. And again, I wonder what I was thinking at this point. If my memories are to be believed I felt pretty good after the bike. I needed to change shoes (and socks, I decided), have some water, and have a couple things to eat. Not that complicated. If I had to guess I probably tried to neatly put away my bike equipment so that I wouldn't annoy my neighbors. I know I threw at least another food wrapper in the garbage. But I still took a long time. Luckily I didn't need any more ibuprofen or another bathroom break.

With everything ready to go I headed to the run exit. My mom excitedly cheered me on from ground level and others cheered me on from up on a bridge. Only 5K left in my first triathlon!

The first running race I can remember participating in was the mile fun run at my elementary school. I don't remember which grade we started doing it in but I know I was pretty good at it. And ever since those days I can remember rhythmically breathing in and out along with my strides when I'm running a longer race. It isn't just in on one step/stride and out on the next but a multi-breath pattern that stretches out over two or three strides (I'd have to get up and run right now to figure it out, which I'm not going to do.)

My run training had not been very intense (surprise, surprise) and I don't think I had really even gotten into that breathing mode. In hindsight it seems a huge oversight and in another hindsight maybe I need to find something analogous to help racing on a bike. On almost all of my training runs I had been going at a pretty easy pace but on one of my last ones I tried to push it a little more. It felt fine. My stride lengthened, my speed picked up, and I was no worse for wear.

That bit of knowledge and something in me that finally decided I should actually race this race meant that I headed out on my run with a bit of speed. My breathing and steps easily fell into rhythm together and I was off and actually passing people. Only a couple of people actually passed me during my run (of course, most everyone had already passed me on the bike) and I ended up re-passing one of those guys a mile or so later. My pace never changed when others flagged towards the end. I suppose I can thank my slow transitions and bike ride for the fuel I had left in the tank to be able to finish the race strong, but it sure was a nice way to end.

I also had enough energy to keep up my cheery disposition. I encouraged other runners. I thanked spectators and volunteers. I even had a very short chat with the photographer I passed along the way. On and on I went around the lake. When I got on to the home stretch my niece and nephew were waiting. They jumped up and started running along side me to help me to the finish. It was spectacular.

Then my younger niece and nephew were standing just up the road ready to give me a high-five as I headed for the finish line.

When I crossed I was handed a finishers medal and a wet, cold towel. That felt great. I headed back towards where my family was waiting to congratulate me. As rough as it had been it felt great to finish. And it feels great to have accomplished it. I can't say for sure that it was the most difficult thing I've ever done, but it is definitely near the top of that list. And it was very special to have been able to do it with my brother and my dad.

People asked me multiple times that day whether there were more triathlons in my future. The current answer is "No." But who knows what the future may hold? Certainly not me. Thanks for all the encouragement and acknowledgement everyone has given me on this long journey and thanks for reading along with my little recap here.

Triathlon Transition 1 and Bike: A Pleasant Saturday Afternoon's Ride

I'm a pretty easygoing guy. I have been for most, if not all, of my life. At one point in Jr. High I was dubbed "Happy Go-Lucky Brenden." But I can also be pretty competitive. I played sports all throughout my youth up to and including co-ed rec soccer in college and hockey while I lived in Montana. I like to think that I usually competed as hard as I could because I always wanted to do my best and I wanted to win. But the winning was not the most important part.

It was this carefree attitude that took hold of me as I was flooded with relief on my way up the swimming exit. On my wobbly legs and cramped calf I slowly made my way into the transition area. It was nearly empty of people and my section was nearly empty of bikes. Nearly everyone who had started anywhere near me was already out on the bike course. No bother. I was happy to be out of the water.

This, obviously, was my first ever triathlon transition. The first thing that went really well was that I remembered right where my bike was and headed straight there. No wandering around the rows like I was lost on the wrong floor of a huge parking garage. My brother Matt had made the excellent observation that our bike row was near a "No Parking" sign which was easy to look for and spot. After that nothing went quite perfectly.

I had kind of thought a few things through, but my bike and equipment wasn't set up in the optimal fashion. I had a towel laid out with my biking shoes and socks and a few snacks and a bottle of water laying there. My helmet was hanging on the handlebars with my cycling gloves inside. I sat down and time must have slowed down around me.

I was all alone. There was no one else in this race. There was no one there to watch me. All that was important was my equipment, my refueling snacks, and making sure I was able to get on that bike and get out on the road. Hurrying certainly wasn't important. I rinsed my sandy feet off with my water, I dried them off and pulled on my socks and shoes. I dried my body off and found my biking shirt. Thankfully I had thought to pin my number to it the night before. I sat back down and had a couple drinks and some food. I got up to put on my helmet and had some more food. At some point I actually walked over to a garbage can and threw away some of my debris. Allison told me later that no one else, probably in the entire race, used the garbage cans.

I finally got up and pulled my bike from the rack and started down the row.

Hmmm, it sure was bright out there. Ah! My sunglasses. It had been very overcast in the morning and I didn't leave my sunglasses out on my helmet. So I put down my bike, dug my sunglasses out of my bag, and put them on. Picked up my bike and took a few steps down the row.

Owww, my head sure does hurt from all of that concentrating and straining during the swim. Ah! I had thought to bring some ibuprofen. I put down my bike, dug out the pills, took them with some water, and headed down the row.

I got to the main aisle and started down towards the bike start. What is this? That sure is some pressure on my bladder. I had been too busy trying not to drown to think about just going in the lake and I certainly wasn't going to let it all out on the bike ride like I'm sure the pros would do should the need arise. So I asked one of the race workers if there was a toilet in the transition area. He said yes and pointed back the way I came. Alas. I headed back past my row and used the very welcome Biffy.

Later on Allison and others in my family told me that they were very confused about what was going on with me and my transition. It was taking forever and finally when I started going I made it only a little way only to be turned around by a worker and disappear from their sight.

Finally, I was ready. My fans spotted me again as I headed down the main aisle towards the exit. Take a look at this picture and notice how there are just rows and rows of empty racks around me. Everyone else is already gone. (I'm in the blue shirt with white helmet right in the center)

As I get closer to the exit notice the bikes now. All of the pros and elites are already running or finished with their entire race (of course they started up to an hour and a half earlier than I did).

I was cheered out on to the road and off I went. What a pleasant day it was! I cannot remember having a more delightful bike ride.

The course was just over 15 miles and started off by going around the lagoon of Lake Nokomis. Then around the main lake and up to Minnehaha Parkway. It followed the Parkway until it turned into the West River Road. Then the ride took me up the River Road to the Franklin Ave bridge where I got a nice view of the U to the north and either a rowing team or some boating expedition on the river to the south. Then down the East River Road to the Ford Ave bridge and back onto Minnehaha Parkway, back around the lagoon and into the transition area.

As I said, I was feeling great. I was so happy to be on a bike and pedaling myself forward that I did not go out with a racing pace. I was content to go at a pace that I could keep up without really tiring myself. As happy as I was I was still tired from the swim and I remember thinking at about mile 2 "Whoa! I have 13 more miles of this and then I have to run a 5K!" So I decided to just have a nice ride.

I wasn't going to win anything with my racing abilities so I did my best to win the non-existent "Friendliest Competitor" award. I thanked all of the spectators who cheered for me as I passed. I thanked the race volunteers who did the same and were blocking off intersections for the race. I thanked the police officers who were directing traffic across some of the open intersections and blocking off some of the busier streets. I encouraged the cyclists that I passed, of which there weren't many. I figured that if I was passing someone they would really appreciate the encouragement. I watched in amazement as 14 year-olds zipped by me on their slick new racing bikes and in even more amazement as an 80 year-old passed me on his not-so-new road bike.

The sun was out. The course was beautiful. The trees were shady. And I wasn't in the water. What could be better? But the ride had to end some time. As with my swim, it didn't end quickly. In fact, just like my swim I was right near the bottom with my overall biking time. But I did make it back.

My swim was so long that Allison had worried about seeing me towed out of the water by a lifeguard. During the bike ride the delay in my return made her fear that I had suffered a flat tire or worse. But nothing could have been further from the truth, I was just enjoying myself. Finally I turned into the home stretch and the transition area was in sight. There again was my family and friends, smiling and cheering me on. I had completed 2/3 of a triathlon.

Traithlon Swim: Tom Petty was a Liar

The waiting was not the hardest part.

As I mentioned before the race was delayed because of a huge storm that rolled through the Twin Cities on Saturday morning. So we waited in the car. We waited in the transition area after setting up. We waited on the beach, watching the earlier waves go out. We waited on the other side of the beach, visiting with our family and friends.

We went back to waiting on the first side of the beach. We waited in the water, testing the temperature and trying a few strokes. Then we waited in a large mass of people in our wave. Then we waited in line, slowing making our way towards the starting line. Then we waited for the official to count "3...2...1" before running into the water and diving in. Then came the hardest part.

The swim was brutal. I was woefully under trained.

I ran out a few meters. I dove in to get wet. I stood back up and took a few more steps (this was the technique my dad and I had seen some of the more elite athletes do earlier--and I had heard some people in line talking about not diving in too hard because you could lose your goggles) and dove in again and started taking strokes.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to crawl the whole way, or most of the way, or even a significant portion of the way. I was hoping to be relying on the sidestroke for most of the way with bouts of backstroke when I really needed a break. I definitely got all three strokes in but nothing was as I had hoped.

The problems began after I decided to to turn to the sidestroke for a little "easy" breathing time. The conditions on the water were less than ideal. The water was ultra choppy and wavy. I knew to expect that I wasn't going to be in a glassy surfaced pool, but I was not expecting what I was swimming through. If I faced into the wind the waves would just straight up hit me in the face while I tried to breath. If I turned the other way, the waves would break over my head and surprise me that way. I had to turn to the backstroke far earlier than I had hoped. But I was in for a couple surprises.

First, again, the waves were breaking over my head and wreaking havoc on my breathing (which are the weakest part of my swimming abilities). And the wind was strong enough to blow me in the wrong direction if I wasn't actively looking exactly where I was going, which is hard to do when looking at the sky.

Here is a picture of the course. The starting line was off to the left of the picture. The swimmers are heading 200m, following the orange, round buoys to the large, triangular, orange buoy which was the turning point.Then it was 200m back along the second line of orange, round buoys that are in a line straight out in the picture. Allison took this shot from the finishing chute. The lines of people you see on the outside of the course with their shoulders out of the water are the lifeguards. They come into the story very shortly.

So one wants to follow the line of those round buoys out to the large triangle, manage your way around it, and head straight in along the other round buoys. Sadly, this was not how my swim went. I'm certain I did more than a 400m swim yesterday with a bit of zagging and zigging. Kind of like how my dog always takes a much longer walk than I do when we're out together.

I can't remember exactly where, but I like to imagine it wasn't too far from the 200m turning point, I needed my first rest with the lifeguard. They had floatation devices that one was allowed to grab and hold on to for however long you wanted before heading out with no extra penalty. I rested and breathed and talked to the nice guy holding the floatation device. He said he was thankful I stopped because he was getting cold not moving. My grabbing the device meant he could tread water and actually get his blood flowing. Glad to know I could help you out, buddy! (He had been in the water for a couple of hours)

I moved on and I don't remember if I stopped again before the turn or not. If I had to bet, I'd say that I did. And then came the turn. Swimming in a mass of humanity, with arms and legs flailing, crowding around you, when you're already a weak swimmer, and having trouble, is no fun. I tried to swim the course away from as many people as I could. But the turn was unavoidable and it was a funnel. I can't remember how exactly I made it around. It had to have been the sidestroke but I remember just being very nervous and worried about it but amazingly relieved when I was on the other side.

I must have turned pretty tightly because it wasn't long before a lifeguard was telling me I had swam too far back towards the "out" leg. When I looked up and saw how far I had to go back I'm pretty sure I decided to take another rest. The wind was blowing a lot of people out of the path they wanted to go. One of the lifeguards I stopped with on the return leg told me that they had all moved from the outside of the course to the inside because that is where all the people were blowing. I think I told her I was thankful for that because I'm not sure I could have made it out that far. Nothing like a little fatalistic humor in the middle of a harrowing experience!

It was probably 50m past the turning point that my goggles became completely fogged up. I tried to keep them on and look through the bottoms but it just wasn't working. So I lifted the goggles to my forehead and kept going. So that something else that didn't help as I sidestroked and backstroked my way back and forth through the water, generally towards the beach, with the waves breaking over my head.

I think I stopped with a couple more lifeguards and also stopped once to hold on to one of those round, orange buoys. At one lifeguard stop I shared the floatation devices with one or two other people. It was also at that stop that I realized there weren't too many swimmers with my color of cap around me anymore. Each wave had the same color swim cap. So not seeing many of my color meant I was one of the slowest swimmers in my entire wave. And my wave, the Friends and Family wave, had to be the weakest overall wave in the entire triathlon.

At some point after that multi-person lifeguard stop I needed a break but no lifeguards were close by. Thankfully I had gotten myself back on course and was able grab one of the round buoys. At the same another guy grabbed on to the opposite side. They're not easy to hold on to so that was interesting. Right after he pushed off I was trying to position myself upright and I developed a big cramp in my right calf. I was not thinking positive thoughts right then. But I pushed off the buoy to see how it worked. Not well, but I was swimming.

I must have looked pretty bad on the last part of my swim. The final lifeguard I stopped at asked me if I was going to make it and if I needed help in. I told him no and headed out for the last bit of swimming. I could not wait to touch the sand with my feet. As soon as saw a few people ahead of me standing up I started dropping my feet to test the depth. I finally touched in about waist-deep water and felt one of the largest rushes of relief in my life.

I didn't want to disappoint my family and friends, who were standing in the exit chute cheering me out of the water (also, I'm guessing, with large senses of relief). I was determined to not walk out so I picked up my knees in a jerky kind of jog as I made my way to the transition area.

The shortest, both length-wise and time-wise, part of my race was over. But the hardest part was also over. I must reiterate, while my arms and legs weren't strong enough for what I had to do. The main difficult I had was simply breathing. The waves crashing over my head and in my face was something I just wasn't fully capable of dealing with. When there were too many waves in my mouth in a row, that's when I needed a stop.

But from that point on I was resolved to enjoy the rest of the race as best I could. Cycling and running would never feel so good.