On the day of the race, team We Heard They Have Beer Here was up before sunrise. We loaded up the sprinter, and headed down to Riverbend park to begin our race preparations.
In the sprinter, we enjoyed some gas-stove cafe americanos made with a neat metal espresso maker.
Jim and Erin loaded up with some oatmeal with granola, and I indulged in a banana with scrambled eggs, my hands shaking with nerves as I held tight to the plastic plate.
There was nothing left to do but keep calm and suit up, so I did.
I put on my trusty blue speedo lap swim suit, which is falling apart due to so many hours spent in chlorine, hiked my wetsuit halfway up, and tried to fit the red race swim cap over my neoprene cap. It never did fit tightly, so I maintained an awesome cap mohawk all day.
After team pictures and enthusiastic “see you at the transition!” high fives, I took a brisk walk down to Farewell Bend Park, which would serve as my swim warmup.
Yoga Breathing. Walking fast. Am I late? Early? I didn’t want to wait at the beach with my nerves expanding for too terribly long. Pushing negative thoughts out with every breath.
I got to the beach, threw my flip flops in the drop pile, asked a friendly lady to zip up my wetsuit, did a few stretches and got into the river with the rest of the swimmers.
I sloshed quickly into the water without trepidation, floatting and kicking my legs to allow the wetsuit to fill and become more flexible. I stood bent over and blew bubbles, even though the water temp didn’t really require this. I took a few strokes and floated around until they announced it was time to get out.
Standing on the beach watching the first wave prepare for take-off, I made friends with two other ladies who were swimming relays. We chitchatted about the water temp and where we were from, which helped to take my mind off what I was about to do.
A shotgun start and the first wave was off. They had placed a white buoy mid-river, and announced that all swimmers must pass on the left, which was between the buoy and the opposite riverbank. Many swimmers started close to the buoy, and the chaos of the mass start combined with the swift current caused quite a cluster around the buoy. I watched many get stuck on the buoy or have to fight the current to go back and around.
Quick strategizing led me to start a little further down river, although it would elongate my swim in some small way, it would also allow me a better angle and more time to be able to get left of the race buoy.
An announcement. It was time for wave two.
We were allowed to stand in the water up to our knees, but the far end of the beach had a mucky bottom and I kept sinking down too far.
“What if we’re short?” I joked to a woman vying for a spot next to me. She just laughed. We were both sinking in the muck but trying to stay above knee-deep.
And then came the gun. Bang! Time to begin. I stood for a moment, making sure to let the mass get started before I jumped into the hullabaloo. Then I lunged forward, face in. Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe.
That’s when it happened. I felt one of the most sickening, horrifying, panic-causing sensations I have ever experienced in my life: the race chip slipping cleanly off of my right ankle and away down the river.
Without the timing chip there would be nothing to hand off to Jim at the swim-to-bike transition. Was it all over? Time to give up? Should I go ashore? Did I RUIN everything?!
I popped up and exclaimed “Oh NO!!!!” A number of other racers paused theirs swims to and confirm I was ok.
“My chip!!” I yelled and glanced at the current flowing away behind me.
There it was! Floating! I grabbed it, fighting the current, thinking, how can I reattach this, I can’t even touch bottom! I looked at the chip and all of the velcro that had affixed it to my ankle was GONE! There was nothing left to do so I held it tightly in my right hand and got to swimming.
Frrestyle, then breastroke, then freestyle if I could muster it. The panic of losing my chip had taken my breath away, and I couldn’t seem to calm my mind and body to get it back. I caught up with the pack, but kept running into slower swimmers from behind. I should have powered past them, but I would instead apologize and hang back. I guess I just can’t lose that midwestern politeness.
I kept swimming. At one point I became tangled in a thick patch of seaweed, and when I tried to kick free, realized I was only in about 2 feet of water. Toward the middle! Toward the current! I swam at a diagonal trying to get back in the groove.
Halfway through the race I found my rhythm. And I went. Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe. I could do this forever! I love to swim!
Powering under the second bridge my mantra became true: This is Fun!
I saw the bridge with the flags and knew I was CLOSE! I POWERED up to the finish buoys, powered over most of the rocky shore at the exit, popped up, got my bearings and RAN LIKE HELL for the bike transition.
I could hear Erin yelling, “Go Meg!” Through my fogged goggles, and sans eyeglasses, I couldn’t tell which helmet-clad gentlement was Jim. “To the LEFT!!!” Erin reminded me, of course, this is what we had planned.
Jim saw the chip in my hand and said, “Oh, you got it off already!”
“It fell off!” I yelled, and handed him the inept chip.
He was off!
I collapsed on the grass, panting for a moment, then we headed to the bridge for some victory photos, as other swimmers approached the finish line in the water below.
Erin and I went over to the race information tent, in fear we could have been disqualified. Using any sort of swimming gloves or paddles in the triathlon is strictly prohibited, and I worried they would classify the timing chip as such, even though all it did was force me to swim basically one-handed and slow me right down.
“It’s our fault,” the race organizers told us, “you’re not disqualified.” Whew! The chips had fallen off almost all of the relay swimmers, the velcro just wouldn’t hold up, and some had even just left them behind and were timed by their race number. Wish I had known I could leave the damn thing behind!
I peeled my wetsuit off, Erin nervously downed a GU packet, and we awaited Jim at the run transition. I promised her no beer would be consumed until the team was reuunited and wished her luck.
“What if I get tired?” she worried, and I told her she had to just keep going.
“Walk if you have to,” I advised.
With great excitement Jim came running in, bike in hand, and tagged Erin, who had received a new timing chip from the race organizers and already affixed it to her ankle.
She was off!
By now the day had grown VERY hot and sunny, and I knew it would be a rough 10K. Jim was exhausted. Most of the bike leg consisted of straightaways up steep hills. He stopped and did some stretching, trying to relieve the painful cramps in his glutes. We grabbed water and filled Erin’s bottle for her, as well, then headed to the finish line.
Jim and I had a blast cheering on the early finishers, and looking excitedly down the river bend path, trying to spot Erin as she approached.
Sooner than anticipated, she appeared, running up the path! We jogged up along side of her, and sprinted together through the finish line fences. The crowd went wild! As we crossed the finish the announcer congratulated team ‘We Heard They Have Beer Here’ and everyone laughed. Victory!!
Erin hydrated and stretched and we were off to get our free beers at the Deschutes Brewery tent. We sat on the grass and enjoyed some eats and brews in the sunshine, cheered on the rest of the finishers, checked our race results, and marveled in awe at the athleticism of the top finishers at the awards ceremony.
We discussed our experiences and discovered we had all faced certain challenges in terms of the triathlon’s events.
Jim had faced steep uphill climbs, and difficulty with the rules against any sort of drafting. No drafting means that if you are going a similar pace as another biker, you must either pass or hang back a certain distance, which created challenged vying for a place in the pack.
Erin had a long, hot run, part of which followed the hiking trails along the Deschutes River, which, although mostly packed dirt, featured hairy areas with rocks and wooded areas where the shade created low visibility.
I had faced the timing chip fiasco, problems sighting, too much politeness to other swimmers, and the running portion of the race, which I had not prepared for at all. I wish I could have powered more through the entire swim, rather than taking time, swimming breast stroke, to calm my start-nerves and get my breathing in control. I wish I would have simply swam over the people I encountered who were going slow, rather than hanging back and trying to proceed around them. I am sure certain changes could have drastically improved my race results – but I guess there’s always next time!
Despite the day’s challenges, we had all conquered and finished with flying colors.
The results were in! I had finished the swim in 19 minutes and 32 seconds, placing me 8th out of the 20 relay swimmers.
Our team also finished 8th overall for all of the relay teams. Success! For an event we set out to simply complete, we were actually quite competitive and comparable to the other athletes.
When chatting it up after the race, Erin made a point to tell people this had been my first competitive sporting event, ever. Many seemed impressed.
This may become a yearly tradition! What fun!
Go team We Heard They Have Beer Here!
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James Cooley
Riveting! I lived it and it was still edge-of-my-seat!
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