The guy loading ultra-high-tech bikes onto his SUV in the parking lot at Sunnyside Park Saturday told me all I needed to know about triathlons: “This sport will humble you.”
He knew what he was talking about. He obviously was a regular participant, given his gear and the fact that he and his buddy were discussing a recent Ironman (2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride, 26.2-mile run) they’d finished.
This little Best in the West sprint event they did Saturday morning had to be a walk in the park.
For me, though, 30-plus years removed from my last tri, it proved to be, well, humbling.
It was when I found myself peddling behind a rather solidly built contestant on a fairly non-high-tech bicycle Saturday morning that I felt my first twinge of humility.
I was on Leg 2 of the Sprint Triathlon portion of the Best in the West Triathlon Series, held Saturday and Sunday at Lewis Creek Park (see page 19) When I’d managed to complete the swim portion, which I’d anticipated (rightly) to be my weakest segment, I’d been hopeful that I’d be able to reel in some of those swim caps that swept by me as I thrashed my way for 500 meters across Foster Lake.
So as I rolled out onto North River Drive for the bike portion, I took an anticipatory look at the field ahead of me. Lots of people to pass. One of them was this woman, who was built a lot like an Olympic shot put contestant – not someone you might expect to see in an endurance event. I expected I’d reel in her and those other folks around her without too much trouble.
Wrong.
Sure, I passed people – little kids, people on mountain bikes, riders who (like me) hadn’t come in with a whole lot of triathlon experience (or preparation).
Most of my exposure to triathlons has been from the news coverage perspective and it tends to be more focused on the leaders. Get some cool photos of people doing triathlon things (bursting from the water, wearing space-age aerodynamic helmets and $200 sunglasses as they glide along on their multi-thousand-dollar high-tech bikes, then finish with a run during which they look like their heart rate is barely over 100. These are the really competitive athletes.
But there are a lot of other sides to Best in the West that I noticed a lot more as a participant. It was eye-opening.
I’ve known Blair Bronson, who started Best in the West from a college project he’d done at Oregon State University, since he founded the series six years ago. He’s told me the event’s been growing and this year they added about 200 more athletes to total about 850 over the two days of events, which include various combinations of swims, bike rides and runs for both adults and kids.
This time I was a contestant, so I experienced the whole thing, from signing up on the website to collecting a finisher’s medal at the finish line. I visited vendors’ booths. I figured out how I was going to find my bike among the 250-plus stacked in the transition area. I got my participant’s number and my age written in bold black magic marker on my calves and arm. I put competitor stickers on my helmet and bike. I filled my water bottle.
During the race I got a lot of friendly encouragement from volunteers (many of them participants in one of the other races during the weekend) who directed traffic and handed out drinks. I got my cramping calves massaged out (along with some good advice on how to avoid cramps). I watched the awards
ceremony and found out I placed third in my age group – which wasn’t saying a whole lot in my case (I was soundly beaten by 60-plus-year-olds of both sexes).
My wife and I had a couple of other family members who also signed up, which added to the enjoyment of participating. We competed against one another, we enjoyed the barbecue that’s served to contestants after their races (complete with a beer or cider, if you so desired), we cheered on the half-Ironman contestants who were involved in a much more demanding challenge than ours (1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride, 13.1-mile run).
I realized that although there’s always been a small cadre of Sweet Home residents who have volunteered and supported Best in the West, this is starting to be a really big deal. Cars packed both Lewis Creek and Sunnyside parks. Campgrounds were sold out to triathletes. All those cars we saw rolling through town with bikes on their roofs or rear bumpers were carrying people who were spending money here.
A lot of effort went into this and it wasn’t just from athletes. The amount of preparation and administration required, especially as this race series grows (and attracts people to our town) begs for more help – something I’ll have to keep in mind in coverage for next year.
I’d only done one other triathlon in my life – another sprint event held in the mid-80s in my wife’s hometown that started with a half-mile swim in a pool. She’d talked me into doing that one too. And she beat me by 45 seconds after exiting the pool seven minutes ahead of me. She’s always taken a lot of pleasure in that memory.
Sooooo, I let her talk me into doing the Best of the West. Truth be told, I kind of wanted to try it after covering it from the shore for the last several years. I’m in decent shape. I run quite a bit and although age has been catching up with me a little, I still figured I could do this thing pretty competently – especially if I could work on my swimming.
Well, I tried. Running Sweet Home’s newspaper can be demanding, schedule-wise, and I didn’t always get to the pool when I needed to. But I did put in some time in the water and I had almost reached the point where I thought I could get through that swim leg without needing a water rescue, before moving on to the bike and run, about which I was much more confident.
So here I was, peddling along North River Drive, eyes on my goal: catching the Shot Putter on the bike. I’d been riding a little so I figured, after decades of running, I would easily be able to make up some ground here. Except, she wasn’t coming back to me. I watched her ride, legs sturdily pumping as she glided along – at about the same speed I was.
It took me about 44½ minutes to go the 12 miles round trip from Lewis Creek to the base of Northside Road, where we turned around. A couple of miles from the park, I finally caught up to and passed the Shot Putter. Then we hit a little rise, which is normally when I reel people in. Instead, I heard the clickey-clack of peddling getting louder and louder and – guess who – rolled right by me.
About that time I realized that I probably should be ingesting some liquid in preparation for the upcoming 5K run, especially since my legs were feeling a little fatigued from pushing it a little harder on the bike than I’d planned to. I whipped out my water bottle, took a drink, and – dropped it, right in the middle of North River Drive, a quarter mile from Lewis Creek Park.
Felt like saying some bad words right about then, as Shot Putter disappeared around the curve. But since I didn’t want to litter (or sacrifice a brand new water bottle) I turned around and picked it up.
Well, I finished. That’s all I can say. I came out of it in better shape than when I started and I’d recommend it to any reader, but I’d suggest starting a lot sooner. Get in the pool this winter.
Sweet Home was better-represented this year than it’s ever been, with at least a dozen people I knew of who competed, most in the Sprint Triathlon that I did. Almost all were current or ex-high school swimmers, which was good to see, since that high school sport doesn’t offer a lot of options after graduation.
One, of course, was my wife, who beat me again.
It’s a sport that will humble you.