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.