A Kick in the Teeth

I didn't like this lake...and I hadn't for a very long time.

In boxing they tell you to never, ever, turn your back on an opponent. You just never know what your up against sometimes. You never know if the person in the ring with you is a dirty fighter or not.

The lake at the race today was a dirty fighter, and I’d even been warned.

Last year when I did the bike course as part of a relay team, I was scared. I was scared because apart from the 17.5 miles I’d just ridden, I’d never done any part of a triathlon before. I couldn’t imagine coming back in a year to swim half of a mile, ride that same 17.5 miles and then run five miles. But I was the most afraid of that swim. After the race I stood and looked at the lake, and I said that I’d be back in a year, but just as I turned my back to leave it shoved me with a cold, biting gust of wind that blew my hair into my face from behind. I remember it vividly, and I shouldn’t have been so trusting today - knowing its nature, and all.

It was so strange to see the transition area again, half of me saw it through my old eyes, and half of me saw it through the eyes that had seen the Lake Michigan waves roll in off the horizon and over top of me. I had no fear of the swim, but only for lack of knowing what had stepped into the ring.

I felt strong, I felt confident. There weren’t many woman at all compared to what I’d seen at Steelhead. The ones around me sounded nervous, and I smiled remembering myself. The breeze picked up a little, “Yeah, I’m here. I told you I’d be back.” And then it died down again. I smiled, thinking that I knew better, thinking that this would be a quick 15 minutes or so. There were no waves other than the ones that were heading in with colored caps, there was no torrential sky. How bad could it possibly be?

"And ladies in 5…4…3….2…BANG!"

The first several strokes were fine, there were people all around me thrashing, but I was fine. I thought about all those going to Ironman next weekend, and how this was nothing compared to that. Fine, fine, it was all fine. For a little while.

As I said, people were thrashing about, and being particularly aggressive. I didn’t understand it because the women behind and around me sounded so nervous and unsure of themselves – where were all of these bodies coming from? I moved closer to the buoys on the inside to get out of the traffic, a few other women had the same idea and swam in front of me, over top of me. This made me angry and I swam harder to get to the opening I’d spotted. Another women jackknifed in front of me and took my spot. I was livid, but then let it go, I had some swimming to do.

Just as I’d calmed down everything suddenly went black. It was the midnight black of the 4:00 a.m. workouts, but there was no slow focusing my way into seeing anything in the lake. Well, except for the bright little colored dots and twinkling white specks.

Body, what the hell? Wh – is tha- Body what the @$^%! That’s blood! Why do I taste blood?

I didn’t know why the hell I tasted blood. When the lights came back on I still couldn’t see, as my goggles were fogged - the traitors. Somehow I forgot that I was swimming or something because I tried to breathe with my face in the water. That didn’t exactly work the way I’d expected, and I started choking.

Body – Seriously! Water, lungs… not so much, you know!? What the hell!? But Body was too busy trying to find air again to answer.

I couldn’t see, I kept swallowing blood, my swim cap was gone. I didn’t know anything accept that the wind was cold, and that it was slicing through my hair.

After treading water for a few minutes I’d discovered that I was in a lake, swimming. And, by the way, that this was a race.

Oh. OK. And the blood would be frommmmmmm…..??

Ah, the kick in the teeth from Giselle, the Navy Seal who jackknifed in front of me.

Nothing was right after that. My breathing was completely off because, well, it hurt like hell. My lungs were burning from the whole trying to take a nice deep breath under water thing, and my heart was pounding a mile a minute, likely some fight or flight adrenaline, and OK, how about I’m Italian, and apparently don’t take a punch with a whole lot of love and understanding. I was not happy, my face was throbbing, my goggles were fogged, and I couldn’t even swear right with the gigantic complication of swimming at hand.

Oh, I so don’t need this crap. Where are the @&^#% buoys? Oh, come on…what – what are they saying?

"SWIM THAT WAY! SWIM OVER THERE! TURN THAT WAY!!"

You must be kidding me. Mind, shut up, or I swear to God… Shut up!

HA HAAA HAAAAA!! HAAAAA!!! She … she.. HAAA !!!!!! Body, you're ALL off course... guess she got you pretty good, huh!?? HAAAA!!!

OK, OK. You, too. All right, no, all right, you go on and laugh it up. You and Jackknife, there you go. Have a party, call her after the race, no really. @#*$!! Stupid pinche otra viviendo dentro de mi cabeza me va a tratar como….aye madre, y luego va a reir, y ya, ya - puta que pariu, PUTA QUE PARIU. @*#&$-ing fantastic. Are you about finished?

OK, OK, come on. All right, how are the lipPFFfffaaaahaaaahaaa!!!?

GAHH! Mind, you better !@*&$ shut-up!!!! OK, screw it. Get away from me. GET away from me.

And I ran the 14 miles back to the transition area (more like almost a mile, but my lips were swelling, OK, Body says 'you shut the @#*$ up, too.' I was pissed like I’d never been pissed, and I was like, third from last out of the water. SO, it seemed like 14. Anyway…)

The first eight miles of the bike sucked. I wanted to go home. And by the way they changed the course at the last minute from a 17.5-mile ride to a 20-mile ride. No big deal, but it just takes a thread to scratch already irritated skin, you know? I heard that they changed the course entirely from last year, and that makes sense because I didn’t remember half of those hills. Around mile five this woman rode up behind me, how it was possible that there was someone behind me after that swim I have no idea, but there she was, one of the lake’s minions, no doubt. I didn’t hate her immediately, she seemed rather friendly. But it was just a cover.

“Hey there. How are you? You know, the biggest hills are just ahead…” and I thought that she was trying to be all camaraderie like, but, in a word, no. “…try to pedal!”

Try to pedal? Is that what she just said to you? Oh no. Did she just tell you to TRY to pedal??

Mind, get back in the lake, you were having such a good time there!

Oh, no, no…how am I supposed to take that? Try to pedal. OK, so try to pedal. GO!!!!

And I sped up, my heart pounded again and my throat still burned from choking out water, but it didn’t burn as much as what was at the bottom of my stomach and rising up through my chest, my neck, my face (OK, that’s actually when it started to hurt again, something to do with even MORE blood to the swollen lips).

I passed the prom queen and muttered something about pedaling now in order to beat the hills. I don’t remember cussing, so I think that it was probably OK.

But I was done with this race. I’d lost the burn that I had, that kick in the teeth knocked it loose somehow. I didn’t want to laugh it off, I didn’t want to chalk it up to routine swim leg happenings, I took it personally, and that was my problem. I just wouldn’t let it go. But if I was going to salvage any part of the race, I’d have to.

The rest of the ride was just the rest of the ride. I fumbled with forgiveness but never quite got a good grip on it, and then the finish line for the bike leg was suddenly ahead. I’d managed to catch a few people, but I was way behind. I entered T1 and nearly all of the bikes were gone, I entered T2 and they were nearly all back. It was time to just run for the sake of the run, and to hell with the race.

And then things started to let go of the grip they had on me. Then it was just running, it was the best five miles I’d ever run. And I can end the tri season with that.

Not that it matters, but.... 2:40:33

Now, I'm starting to get it.