The other day I was hanging out at my local bike shop and met new triathlete making preparations for his first triathlon. It got me thinking about my first triathlon at White Lake in North Carolina. I couldn’t help but think about how much my training had changed. The comparison between how much I know about training now and what I knew then is staggering. Granted the sport and my understanding of it have changed a lot over the years. How did it work out for me in that ancient triathlon? The good news was that I finished. The bad news was that 16 years passed before I signed up for my 2nd triathlon.
Those of you who want to go ahead to the lessons I gained from this calamity feel free. Those that want the whole story, settle back. It’s a tale too long untold.
Kicking It 90s Style
It was back in 1994 at least that’s what the bike receipt, the only record I have, tells me. I had read an article in the January issue of Men’s Health magazine. It was one of those 12 fitness goals for the new year kind of things. And yes one of them was compete in your first triathlon. I went to the bookstore and bought a book on training for triathlons. I think there may have been only one or maybe two triathlon books back then.
Next I went to my LBS for a road bike. I wound up with a steel frame Trek 470 with Shimano RSX STI shifters, a 34/46 chainring and a seven-speed,11-24 cassette. The pedals had those clips and straps that I’ve come to consider one of the worst features ever to be included on a bicycle. The 56 cm frame was a good fit for me. Sadly adjusting the seat height was all of the bike fitting I got. I still have the bike. After dusting it off and getting an actual bike fit, it saw me through five more triathlons. Now with a few optional extras like a climbing cassette, a proper saddle and 700 x 28 tires, it will shortly be starting a second career as a gravel bike.
So I picked a race and started using one of the book’s training plans. I will not slander the author by giving his name or the title. Without that book I would never become a triathlete. Let’s just say the books on the market now are better. I’m going from memory here but I recall it being a three-month plan and calling for five workouts per week. Every week you would do two workouts in two sports and three in the third. I was using the balanced program so every week the sport you did three workouts in rotated.
One major flow was that the training was based on time and not distance. So as a slow athlete I got less training. I should have adjusted and added 10% or 15% to each workout. OK say 25%. The longest workouts were one hour or slightly longer. Perhaps the biggest flaw of the training plan was that the workouts were pretty much steady state. There were no intervals or hill workouts or main sets. You just swam, biked or ran for a specified number of minutes. Without specific distances and intensities, individuals could get very different amounts of training.
For the swim workouts I went to the local YMCA and swam laps. I would alternate strokes, swimming some freestyle, some breaststroke and some backstroke. I never got in a hurry. I just tried to make it through the workouts. They seemed very long at the time. I had no open-water experience, and I made no effort to get experience before the race. Poor swim training was clearly my biggest oversight, especially for an adult onset swimmer.
The bike workouts were a comedy of errors. I was lucky enough to live in a neighborhood where I could just head out and be on back roads in a few minutes. I would ride very early in the morning to avoid as much traffic as possible. After 35 to 45 minutes my butt and hands would go numb and I would stop and mill about for a few minute until the feeling came back. Then I would remount and restart my workout. I went back to my LBS and asked them what I could do about these issues. They told me not to worry that I would toughen up with time. I never did. And after a real bike fit I never suffered like that again.
But the most anxiety-inducing part of those rides was trying to get my feet into those toe clips and toe straps. The first one was easy. I could put my foot in while stopped. Getting my other foot in while moving was an exercise in excessive futility. A half pedal stroke from my right foot that was in the clip would get me rolling slowly. Then I would bat the other pedal with my left foot trying to turn it over and get my foot in the clip. Inevitably I would miss getting my foot in several times in a row and have to look down, spend a second getting my foot in then look up to find a tree, mailbox or parked car filling my visual field. If you ever mastered this medieval pedal design then you sir or madam are far more coordinated than I.
Hook On!
And I was so slow. I remember one early morning Sunday ride where I was passed by a group of cyclists. As they went by the last guy yelled “hook on.” I had no hope of catching them or staying with them. Watching them accelerate away was a lonely feeling. For years I wondered what it would be like to ride in a group like that.
The running was OK. I had been a runner on and off since my first 5K in college and really enjoyed getting out and running further than I ever had before. I remember being enthralled by the concept of running for an hour: an entire hour!
Race Day Reveal
Race day came and I found myself waist deep in White Lake wearing a swim cap for the first time in my life, waiting for my wave to start. I was nervous, excited and more confident than I should have been. The horn sounded, and we took off. I tried to stay with the big dogs and of course, I couldn’t. Halfway through the 750 meter swim, I was exhausted and had to roll onto my back and regain my breath and my composure. I started swimming again just as the next wave of swimmers hit me. One person literally swam over top of me. At the time, I did not know that was possible.
After my second pummeling ended, I breaststroked for the swim exit for all I was worth. I can still feel that colossal sense of relief that came when my feet touched sand. I was breathing like a draft horse that had just pulled a wagon up several flights of stairs. A race volunteer told me “the worse is over.” I remember my two-year-old daughter smiling and waving as I staggered toward transition.
At T1 I wasted a lot of time getting my act together and getting out on the bike. The bike leg went on forever. I guess my training rides never got up to 14 miles or I was still exhausted from the swim. It must have been a two-loop course because I remember being passed repeatedly and often. Several of the bikes had those early square, bulky handlebar mounted hydration reservoirs with half-inch tubes sticking out. I remember wondering if I had the lung power necessary to pull water out of one of those rigs.
On to T2 for another adventure in disorganization and out onto the run course. I think I may have actually switched from a bike jersey to a running singlet. One small plus I didn’t have to change shoes. I had never done a brick workout and was completely surprised by my sudden and unexpected inability to run properly the first quarter mile. Somehow I made it to the turnaround and ran back toward the finish. I noticed that there were only two runners behind me: a woman and a man. Since the woman’s swim wave had left five minutes after mine that meant I was almost in last place. I pushed hard in an effort not to be last.
Finally I saw and crossed the finish line. About 30 seconds later my mind had generated a long list of the mistakes I had made. I was briefly depressed. Then in a rare transcendental moment couldn’t help laughing at myself. I had pulled off the biggest adventure of my life at that point, found resources I didn’t know I had and briefly stopped critiquing my blunders. It might not have been a shiny victory but it was victory. I saw my wife and daughter and slowly walked over to rejoin them. The bike and my triathlon dreams would gather dust in the garage for a lot of years but both would fight another day. Stumble on.
Lessons That Still Apply
So what lessons drawn from this traumatic introduction to the sport of triathlon can I pass along to today’s new triathletes? I’m glad you asked.
Open water swimming: There are skills to be mastered like sighting and situations to prepare for like mass starts and rounding buoys. Find your local triathlon group and practice.
Bike Fit: You need a bike fit. Ask around find out which LBS and which bike mechanic or fitter does a good job make an appointment and go see them. If problems persist go back.
Find a Group: Don’t reinvent the wheel or the triathlon. Find other triathletes and train with them. You may be too slow for a lot of runs or rides but just talking to them before and after is a great learning experience. Doing all of my training alone was another major mistake.
Training Plans: You need a good triathlon training plan. There are many online: free and paid. There are books with training plans and books entirely of training plans. Be realistic about your abilities and discuss your plan with a couple of those triathletes I told you to go meet.
Bricks: You need to do a bike-to-run brick workout every week. Some triathletes do multiple bike-to-run bricks every week.
Transition, Transition, Transition: Learn about and practice your transitions. Wear a rut in your driveway practicing your transitions. Make the conditions as realistic as you can. Time yourself. Early on this might be the only part of triathlon where you can be competitive.
Intensity: Understand intensity and how it fits into each sport. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again one of the biggest mistakes you can make is doing most of your workouts at the same speed or intensity level. Mix it up.
Information is Power: Gather information about your race. The White Lake venue back then was not dog friendly, and I brought a black lab and a golden retriever with me. It was a big hassle for my wife. A quick check of the 2014 White Lake sprint website seems to show that they are still not dog friendly. Just one example of an unexpected hassle that can be avoided by reading all of the online race information or talking to someone who has done the race.