The Grizzly Triathlon

Yeah, I realize that it happened on April 23. If you want a prompt race report, write it yourself. Here is mine:

Racing at 2PM can be tough. That's about two meals worth of nutrition you have to get down before you hit the water. It's also the Montana World Championships, so all of that extra pre-race time gives you ample time to overthink things. Luckily, I didn't. I did, however, over saltify things... I think. I drank lots of a delicious sports drink (and, yes, I'd been training with it) before the race trying to get some calories down without having my usual bloody mary, eggs and bacon for breakfast, and salad with a slightly dirty gin martini for lunch. Poor choice. I would have been better off sticking with what I know works for a race morning: booze and cheese.

The swim was ok. There is one man in the elite heat that paces the Grizzly swim correctly from the push-off and he's done about one million triathlons, and (Jeff you rock) he races better than his fitness usually allows. I had the fastest swim split but felt a little "dirty" leaving the water. T1 was solid. The first half of the bike was solid but definitely diminishing. The second 1/2 of the bike was an introductory course to the way the run would go. Piss-poor. I usually am so pumped to get off that damned TT machine for the run that I don't care how fast I'm going. This time though, I had a cramp that went from my hip clear up throughout my rotator cuff. Basically I was listing like a sinking vessel, and I'd never experienced such a sensation. I think that the Indomitable and Injured Seeley could have easily outrun me in his union suite with one leg (Meg you rock!) while pulling a wagon full of his kids. A walker with tennis balls on the front and wheels on the back would have gotten me to the finish line sooner than my incorrigible stems. Had there been a bar at the run turn around, I would have planted myself there and waited for the paramedics. There wasn't.

FORTUNATELY, it was the end of Lent which signaled a time in which I could again consume alcohol. (No, I'm not catholic. Yes, I know it's not a biblical requisite. Yes, I did it nonetheless.) I celebrated my poor performance with some great friends and a view from the roof during the first sunny day in Missoula.