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The Race That Wasn't

Not sure how the mesh-thingy from my aero bottle got wrapped around my fork leaving transition, but it did. Fortunately, nothing beyond me looking silly occurred.


T1 - the speediest part of my race.

Axel had rockstar parking.

With Boyfriend before the start. Unfortunately, the Cycling Jesus shirt
did not bring good luck this time.

Yesterday was the Shawnee Mission Triathlon, or half of it anyway. Weather was not friendly in Kansas City, and Mother Nature unleashed a tirade about halfway through the race.

Part of me was happy because: 1) I had not been on my bike in two weeks, 2) I had eaten a large amount of cheese with a side of sangria the night before, and 3) there has not been much pep in my step lately.

It would have been nice if they’d called the race before the swim. While herding in the water there was ample lightning in the distance. Figuring the race director was just trying to do his best, I started the swim thinking it was on a 50/50 chance I would be allowed to finish.

The swim just felt off. I’d lost my good goggles at Topeka and was using my back-up pair that fog in 30 seconds. Bad move. I was all over the place. Several course volunteers tried to direct me, but I was literally swimming blind. So a 500m swim was probably more like 700m.

High point: my transition was fast. Yay for me.

Halfway through the first bike loop the rain started and a volunteer let us know the director had called it. Took my time into the transition, as was soaked. Boyfriend had already bagged up all my stuff and took Axel to the car for me.

The drive home was more nerve-wracking than any race, as we decided to exit the highway (no visibility) and drive through the bottoms to get home. During a torrential rainstorm. Because we’re smart like that. Eventually got home safely and rewarded ourselves with French toast.

In light of how crummy I’ve been feeling, I almost didn’t do this race. However, ten years ago this was my first triathlon. I remember being incredibly nervous, making a complete change of clothes in each transition, falling off my bike, and puking on the run. But I absolutely fell in love with the sport that day. I was so proud I didn’t even wash off my body marking the rest of the day. (I did shower, though. I’m not that gross.)

So even with the rainout, I’m glad I went. It had a nice, nostalgic feel. Happy decade, triathlon.

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