The Comeback tri: The 9th Olympic distance triathlon experience
2 years since I did my last triathlon. How much has changed since then. And yet some things haven’t. The ocean remained as placid as ever. West Cliff Drive with quaint and posh houses on one side and views of the pristine blue pacific on the other was as beautiful as ever. The salty air of Santa Cruz and the effervescent vibe hadn’t changed. Depot park was bustling with energy on race morning. How I missed all this. Santa Cruz has always been a special place. This is the same place where I began my journey as a triathlete four years ago. A journey that I penned down in my book A Turbulent Mind.
I reached transition at 6:45 am. 90 mins before my race began. After collecting my packet comprising of my bib and timing chip, I headed towards an empty spot to set up my things. I spotted a few familiar faces and waved. I smiled at the unknown faces as well. Some of them were doing a triathlon for the first time and others were seasoned. Yet the nervousness prevailed. It’s good to feel nervous, one of my coaches had told me once. The butterflies in my stomach were apparent that morning. I swallowed a few times as I arranged my things on the towel. I wasn’t in my peak form yet. Not as I was in 2019. Unlike that year, summer of 2021 was a working one. With my thesis and deadlines, bouts of ill health, my training wasn’t as optimum as I would have liked it to be. I decided to treat this Olympic distance as a training to build back my strength and most importantly enjoy the feel of doing a triathlon. Wasn’t this what I had missed all this while?
I put on my wetsuit and headed straight to Cowell Beach with another member of my triathlon club. Engaging in a cheerful conversation with fellow triathletes helps in easing those bouts of nervousness. Participants were already doing warm up laps in the ocean. I gingerly stepped into the water. It wasn’t as cold as it usually is. Probably in the 60s. I dived right in and spent around ten minutes warming up. After which I listened to the race briefing. The clouds paved way for the sun. I looked up and said a small prayer. I walked to the start, talked to other participants and wished them luck. The horn blew and I found myself running towards the waves. Here we go, I told myself.
Swim: Pink caps bobbed ahead of me. Some of the swimmers were strong, some lagged behind and I was somewhere in between. This was a course that I swam just a few weeks ago at a swim clinic. One loop was the sprint distance and the Olympic distance participants had to swim 2 loops. Recently I had watched the Tokyo Olympics. I marveled at all the swimmers, admiring their dolphin like abilities to swim effortlessly. I watched their technique carefully and tried to imbibe it in my own swim. Compared to 2019 where I had done around 10 open water swims, 2021 was pale in comparison. It’s no easy feat navigating through those waves. The orange buoys bobbed. The sun smiled. Nature was being kind. And here I was feeling that familiar anxiety pangs that I felt during my first triathlon. The anxiety of being left behind. Despite having done 2 half ironman races and 8 Olympic distances.
This is the post pandemic race, a voice in my head reprimanded me. It’s a big thing to even be out here taking into account all that mental stress, uncertainty, new pressures and torrid circumstances. The little voice continued to mutter away as I swam my second loop. I kept looking up to sight the buoys. For a minute one of the buoys reminded me of whale’s head. Trust my imagination to go awry in the middle of my swim. I wondered what it would feel like to have a whale swim along with me. With such thoughts, I managed to finish my 1.5 km swim. My watch buzzed. I ignored it. Not my best swim. But I made it. I waved to my husband and daughter as I ran towards Depot park.
Transition 1: Usually triathlons emphasize so much on the swim, bike and run that two important aspects are totally forgotten. Transition 1 and 2. In my opinion, it’s harder than the three disciplines. I ran from Cowell beach to Depot park which was at least 600 m away. It took a while to get out of my wetsuit as always is the case. I slipped on my helmet, put on my shoes, tied the furl belt and bib around my waist and wheeled my bike to the area that read mount bike.
Bike: “Make sure you are on low gear, there is a steep hill,” the volunteers said. I nodded. I mounted my bike feeling a little wobbly. The gu gel kicked the much-needed calories and energy in. I began to pedal. The cheers and claps echoed along the driveway. The bike course was closed to traffic. It was nice to have the roads just for ourselves. There were bikers who overtook me. I overtook some. It was a 10-km loop and I had to finish 4 loops for the Olympic distance. Every loop I’d pass some of the houses. There was one particular house where three women sat and cheered us. They hooted and whistled. While watching a tennis match recently I wondered what it’d feel like to be cheered and egged on. The feeling was inexplicable. I was grateful, happy and emotional at the same time. I was a little upset about my swim and kept comparing myself to my 2019 self. The voice spoke again. You weren’t working on your thesis. Your summer was off. You had more time to recover.
The weather was great. I watched surfers on the beach. I heard volunteers direct us on the course. I heard other bikers encouraging me. For some reason, the electrolytes I carried didn’t give me the boost. Not like the way Gatorade did. And here I was trying to find another alternative as Gatorade had too much sugar. Next time I decided to try sugar free Gatorade as an option. During my last lap, I saw a biker crash and fall. I was shaken. Are you okay, I asked. A volunteer rushed to his aid and gestured me to go ahead. I trembled and muttered a prayer for that biker. Let him be ok, I looked at the skies. I watched another lady trying to fix a flat tyre. I hope she makes it, I prayed. With prayers and thoughts, I made my way to transition after a decent 40 km bike ride. I waved to a couple of people from my club. “Good going,” he said. “Make sure you drink Gatorade or coke during your run.” I nodded.
Transition 2: I wheeled my bike and removed my helmet. Putting on my running shoes and a cap, I set out for the run. The taste of gu gel lingering in my mouth. The feel of berry in my mouth induced a feel-good factor. I noticed people coming back from their run. “You got this one,” they said. I smiled. My spirits sank every time I thought about 2019. Don’t, the voice told me again.
Run: Another hill greeted me again. I survived this one and was cheered by onlookers. A couple of people high fived me. “You go girl,” they said. Cheerful faces and encouraging words were such a booster. Probably more than a Gatorade bottle. Once again, I felt a surge of gratitude. Gratitude to those people for making me feel like a champion while I felt like a loser. Stress! That’s the culprit. That clogs your mind, drains your body out of energy and tenses your nerves. It’s worse than running or biking with headwinds. I am treated to the views of the ocean. I look at the pretty houses on my right. This is a familiar route. Heck! I have finished my two Ironman 70.3 races here. This is home. I noticed people running past me, towards the finish line where the medal was waiting to be garlanded around their neck. “You are doing great! Looking strong,” they said! Ah! The spirit of sportsmanship. Its humbling. I sometimes wonder why writers do not always have that humility. Here were athletes who were faster, stronger but most importantly humble. Later, I’d hear them say there was scope for improvement in their performances. That’s the attitude that I believe would take one places.
I met a women enroute. Good going,” I told her. She smiled and said thanks. It was her first Olympic and we chatted about the challenges of racing post pandemic. I encouraged her and told her she was doing great. I ran past her to the turnaround point. I thanked the volunteers profusely. Now that morning, my emotions were all over the place. It was my first triathlon race after the pandemic. It was something I yearned for a long time. I remember how I’d look at photos from past races wishing that I could do an event soon. I recollected those moments during the pandemic when my mental health took a toll for not being able to do events. And here I was actually running the last leg of a triathlon. With tears streaming down my face, I made my way towards the finish line. I saw one more lady running towards me. Said she was doing the Olympic. “You are doing great,” I egged her on. She smiled and thanked me. I ran past houses, uphill and downhill, the sound of the ocean reverberating in my ears. I blew a kiss at those three ladies seated outside the house who hooted and clapped. I was inching closer. The sun was beating down in an unrelenting manner. I picked up pace and sprinted towards the finish line, hearing the emcee call out my name.
The finishers’ medal was garlanded around my neck. I was happy. I was thirsty. I embraced my family who patiently stood by the sidelines waiting for me to finish. I met the race director and hugged her. I did my first open water swim clinic with Penni at Cowell Beach back in 2017. Tri Santa Cruz will always remain special. She smiled and said, great job. I congratulated her on her phenomenal job of organizing a race amidst such tough conditions.
It may not have been my best time. But this race gave me a lot to think about, to prioritize my goals and cut back on some of the assignments. Most importantly I was beginning to feel like my old self again. There is something magical about crossing the finish line of a race especially a triathlon. It’s a test of your will power and endurance. It’s a kick start to my triathlon races. It’s given me an incentive to train harder, do more open water swims until the season and allot more me-time for my recovery. It will all be a challenge, considering that my semester begins next week. I guess I have to compartmentalize and eliminate unnecessary elements- mainly that of stress. Meanwhile I am gearing up for my net event in September and celebrating the finish of my 9thOlympic distance triathlon.
Thanking my coach Viv Menon for the training plan and for being so patient and encouraging always.
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