Try & tri-again
Support throughout race gives novice strength to finish
By Vicki Viotti
Advertiser Staff Writer
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| Vicki Viotti, right, gets a congratulatory hug from Niketown Na Wahine Spring Triathlon winner Katherine Nichols. The Advertiser reporters trained together.
Jeff Widener • The Honolulu Advertiser |
It bore down on me, the newbie, who had up to now considered a 3.1-mile run the least of the burdens of the Niketown Na Wahine Sprint Triathlon. And this course actually fell nearly half a mile short of that distance.
But it came right after a bike segment, two serpentine loops whose sum of 11.7 miles included a couple of hills that were, as a Marine public affairs officer had warned, "a bear."
I got up those hills, through the turns, ushered and cheered by dozens of volunteers pointing the way and Marines holding back traffic.
The Marines were great. "Looking good! OUT-standing!" one of them yelled after me. I had to grin.
The euphoria of surviving the swim - a churning aquarium of swimmers flopping like corralled carp - and cheating death on that bike course carried me through to a gleeful finish. Now the run, I thought. No problem.
I happily shed the helmet and gloves and started off, gulping a bit of Cytomax at the aid station. The not-quite-empty cup splashed down on the ground.
Glee can evaporate even faster than orange drink on hot pavement. The rubbery feeling in my legs I expected. The hard breathing was no surprise. But the sudden waves of nausea? Big surprise.
I thought about Terri Needels, an athlete and clinical psychologist, who had advised that staying focused can control race jitters.
"Being present in the moment is really important, instead of worrying about what's around the next bend," she said. "If your expectations are reasonable, you should be fine."
Not much to like about the present moment, though. And my reasonable expectations were that I was about to lose my breakfast.
Reality-check time. Which would look worse in print, that I'd slowed to a walk until the feeling passed, or that I'd done the unthinkable on a race course freshly swept by the U.S. Marine Corps?
I walked. The feeling passed. I ran, and it came back. I walked. Another racer came up alongside.
"Small goals," she said to me, between her own panting breaths. "Third light pole."
Made it to the third light pole. Nausea starting to pass. I said to her, "Stop sign." We were off again.
In my ebbing misery, I hadn't even registered her face, let alone her name.
Finally, I could see my pal Renee, the one who'd got me to sign up to start with, waiting and watching for me near the end. Further on, my husband and daughter, the lei-bedecked Katherine and other friends.
Time: 1 hour, 31 minutes, 42 seconds. Number 125 of 198. The numbers meant little. Crossing the finish line, into waiting hugs and garlands of flowers, was the ultimate, genuine natural high.
Even spectators shared that feeling. From the sidelines, Jim Gugudan from Salt Lake pledged to enter the AARP Triumph, a race for seniors on Dec. 2.
"I'm inspired," he said. "I'm encouraged by watching all you ladies."
No. 198, the last of all us ladies to cross, was Debra Patterson, age 46, mother of four, grandmother of three, a bookkeeper from Wai'anae who now counts finishing a triathlon among her proud achievements. Weightlifting has given her body great muscle tone, but she hadn't really trained for this event in any classic sense.
"I wanted to say I did it!" she exulted. "I wanted to see what it was all about.
"This was a great race, being all female, all ages, all shapes and sizes. That's what amazed me." Patterson will be back next year.
There was Candace Agustin, 37, from Puhi, Kaua'i, who read about the race in The Advertiser and entered. Her husband, Dean, backed her ambition and helped with training. "We've got to get more women here from Kaua'i!" he enthused. The Agustins will be back.
And I will be back. But first I want to thank everyone who educated and supported me on this effort, sharing techniques and, equally welcome, words of encouragement.
Not the least of these is my mystery partner on the run. Thank you, friend. See you at the third light pole.
