It Could Happen to You...

You hear the stories.  Some of them even make the papers.  You know it happens, but you don't think it could ever happen to you.  You are (mostly) responsible.  You are attentive.  No, you will not be so stupid.  And then, it happens.  You find yourself in unchartered territory, wondering what happened to all the race volunteers.

I am talking about running off course, naturally.  This is my eighth season racing triathlon.  I know full well that it is the athlete's responsibility to know the race course.  Yes, it is the race organizer's duty to provide a well-marked course, but in the end, the onus is on the participant to know where to go.

Last weekend, I took the girls to Morden to race in the local Kids of Steel.  I have a bit of a personal attachment to that particular race, since that is where I completed my first and only try-a-tri seven years ago (and placed first in the women to boot).  It was there that I fell completely in love with this sport that I have competed in ever since.

Since I had nothing better to do that morning (in other words, Justin wasn't there to keep from getting run over, drowned or otherwise injured), I decided to enter my second try-a-tri and see how much I had bettered my time over the years.

I walked up to Darren Sunday morning and said, "I would like to enter the try-a-tri on the condition that my results are not posted."  Why didn't I want them posted?  Well, the race is designed for newbies as an intro to the sport.  I'm not saying that they won't be fast - I was fully aware that I might get my butt handed to me - but generally speaking those who register are not what you might refer to as elite athletes.  I wasn't there to race against them.  I was there to race against my younger self.  I even equalled the playing field (both between my "competitors" and my former self) by bringing my second best bike and not my tri bike.  Jake is my cyclocross bike, and is not set up to be super speedy on the road.

Jake.  He's speedy, but he's not a tri bike.

We hopped into the water and the horn went off.  After the hardest 300m I ever swam (don't be fooled into thinking try-a-tris are easy - you just have to push harder), I had a nice little lead.  After the bike, it had become comfortable, even though I wasn't feeling particularly well (I blame the heat and the fact that I really hadn't taken in any water to this point).  Oh, did I mention that I wasn't racing against the others?  Well, not officially.  I still wanted to win.  After all, this IS me we're talking about.

Now all I had to do was push myself through 3km of running and I was done.  I took my standard two cups of water at the first aid station (one usually goes straight on my head, the second I drink about half of and then pour the rest on my head as well).  At the second aid station I called out for two cups of water, which the volunteer reached into the back of his truck to get.  To my right I could see Rhonda and Naomi Kitchen crossing the field.  I thought, "Oh, the course must loop around that way."  I turned back to the volunteer, grabbed my water, and kept going.

*Flashback to two years ago.  I'm on the run at Riding Mountain.  I see a sign stating something like "Duathlon 2nd run Turn Right."  I start wondering, "What do I do?  Do I turn?  I'm an Olympic distance triathlete.  It doesn't tell me what to do?"  I turned right.  I all fairness, after two hours of racing, your brain doesn't always function correctly.  Although I took the wrong course, I completed the same distance.  I vowed to make sure I knew my course from then on.*

After about 25 metres I started thinking that the course didn't seem right.  I thought about heading back to make sure but didn't want to lose the time, so I kept on going.  I came to the steep downhill.  "I didn't think this was part of the course."  I kept going.  I hit the golf course.  The road was marked with race directions.  I kept going.  I saw a right turn and figured that must be where it looped.  Golfers quickly informed me I was going the wrong way.  Where was I supposed to go?  Back.  Ok.  I went back.  More golfers.  "Which way am I supposed to be going?"  "That way."  "Past the clubhouse?"  "Yep."  Ok.  I ran.

I reached the town.  I saw markings on the road.  I kept going.  I reached Mountain St.  At this point I knew without a doubt that I was NOT where I was supposed to be.  After all, there were no volunteers handing out water, and I was long overdue.  I saw a couple in a truck.  "What's the fastest way back to the campground...by foot?"  "Well, you go down there and turn left.  Run through the golf course and it will take you there."  Great.  Back the way I came.

Off I went.  Through the golf course, past the clubhouse, up the hill, down the path to the volunteer who had given me two cups of water.  There on the ground was a white arrow pointing to my left, going around an orange pylon, both of which I had missed while focusing on getting my water.  "Water please.  And you forgot to tell me to turn," I joked.  "Oh...I'm SO sorry!"  "Don't worry about it.  I'm only in this for fun anyway!"

On my way back I ran past a couple of volunteers who were directing athletes.  "There you are!  We were wondering where you were!"  "So was I!" I called back as I headed toward the finish line.  Yes, I was supposed to do three 1km loops.  I figured my run would suffice.  (As it turned out, I had run somewhere around 4.5 - 5 km instead).

Needless to say, I did not beat my original time (though I was only about 5-6 min slower).  I had a good laugh at myself, and a good number of others got to laugh at my expense.  That's ok.  Like I said, it's all for fun anyway.

Oh, today I decided to redeem myself and completed a try-a-tri in Carman.  I was appropriately ribbed about making sure I knew the course.  But this time I did it right, and my time was considerably faster.  Didn't come in first place though.  That's ok, too.  Another challenge for another day.