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The Newbie Diaries, Part X Finish Line This week, many people have approached me to ask, “Didn’t you star in the recent Tri-Shark triathlon?” although the way it actually comes out of their mouths is, “Why are you coming to work with permanent marker all over your body? Can’t you keep your fetishes to yourself?” I have worked hard to ensure that pretty much everyone in the Chicagoland area, or at least my apartment, knows I just completed a triathlon. My desire to talk about it has gotten extreme. Perhaps you recently had a phone conversation that went something like this: [Your telephone rings.] You: Hello? Person on the other end: I just did a triathlon. You: We don’t want any. [Click.] Yes, that was me. Anyway, the point is, the hurdle of the first triathlon is cleared, and I am already thinking about going pro. As such, I am happy to share some of the important lessons I learned at my first tri: 1. If you have to turn on the heat in the car on the way over, you may want to consider renting a submarine for the swim portion; 2. Do not put your bike helmet on backwards; and 3. Although a laudable policy in general, during a triathlon it does you no good to get so wracked with guilt about tossing your GU wrapper on the ground that you actually turn around and pick it up. The astute reader will recognize that these three lessons are just tidbits. Unlike online games, where in order to not end up dead in ten minutes one must first spend a solid day reading a list of cheats as complex as Cher’s concert wardrobe changes, triathlons are entirely doable and intuitive. Provided one has trained, the actual event is deliciously pleasant. The wind on the lakefront path this April was every bit as strong as the wind sweeping across the countryside in LeRoy, for example, and so it didn’t even scare me. Another thing that makes finishing triathlons easier is having other people around encouraging you, especially if these people have just flown in from across the country to see you and will probably not buy you lunch or take you shopping on Sunday if you decide it’s too cold and let’s just go home. Needless to say, I am talking about my parents. My parents stood in pretty stark contrast to the other athletes and their family members who came out. For example, my father was probably the only man wearing women’s flip-flops. Okay, full disclosure: the flip-flops were mine and they were in his back pocket, but whatever. Also, I am quite sure my mother was unique, not only because she spent most of her time in the car, but because she did so with cotton balls in her ears. This special trick of hers is designed to keep out the cold. Maybe if she comes to another triathlon, she can bring her earmuffs. Seeing my dad standing there or my mom waving from the car was actually extremely moving, and I want to be serious for a moment and reflect on the great benefit their unwavering support has been to me, in terms of encouraging me through my injuries, always taking my side when I describe near-accidents on the bike path, and making the time to be present for my first triathlon. Okay, all done*. I confess I have been putting so much drive and energy into talking about my last triathlon that I haven’t had time to train for the next one, a strategy sure to bring success. Rest assured, however, that whatever the outcome, I will do my “call everyone I know to talk about my triathlon” routine again when it is done. Speaking of which, I look forward to chatting with you soon, and don’t go getting an unlisted number on me! * Shamelessly lifted from a recent Dave Barry column. Alix Weisfeld is a world-renowned
triathlete who has won Ironmans on three continents--no, wait, that is
someone else's life. She |