Blood. Sweat. Tears. Hammer Gel. All of this and more was included in my Avia Wildflower Olympic Triathlon. Saturday morning, I drove up to San Lois Obispo by myself and waited for Sloan to return from working the medical tent at the long and sprint courses. I promised him a ride, but it meant me sitting in Starbucks for six hours just waiting, wishing I was up at the campground getting my pre-race workout in. After not hearing from him, I decided it was more important for me to go set up at Wildflower, so I got in my car and headed north. I got halfway to the race site when Sloan called and said he was home. I drove back to pick him up, but he wasn't there; turns out he was still at Wildflower but needed a ride back up there later.
Instead of sitting around, grumpy and sick, I took out my bike and went for a 50-minute ride around the neighborhood. As soon as I finished, Sloan called to say he was really at his house now, so I rode back. When I arrived, he wanted to make dinner, so I went on a twenty-minute run while I waited. We loaded up the car and got to the campgrounds after the sun had set. So much for scouting out the course and getting into the water to practice the swim.
At that point, all I wanted was to find Josh and settle in. I knew once I found him, everything would be better and I wouldn't be as stressed.
I found the area Josh said he and Luis would be camping, but it was too dark to really see anyone or anything. Inside, I was panicking. What would I do if I didn't find Josh? I was exhausted. I didn't have a tent; would I have to sleep in my car? Sloan and I got out of the car and started walking when suddenly from behind me, I heard a far-away voice calling my name. Relief, security, happiness and contentment settled through my body. "Joshua," I exclaimed in a voice of sheer delight. I can't even describe the feeling Josh brings me. When I'm with him, it's like I'm home in Sisters, only better. There is no better feeling then knowing Josh is near. He makes it seem like nothing in the world matters and everything will be okay.
I climbed back in the car and followed Josh to the campsite, but my journey wasn't quite finished. Sloan informed me he needed a ride to his friend's campsite, so I got back into the car and drove around the entire lake looking for his friend Mike. I was so done. My gas was on empty and the nearest gas station was thirty minutes away. I had not eaten dinner. To put it lightly, I was a crank-a-meister. After driving around for half an hour, we discovered we had gone the wrong way, so we turned around and drove back the direction we came. It was after 10 o'clock at this point.
After finally returning to the tent, I found Josh and Luis sitting in chairs, chatting and catching scenes from
Soul Surfer, which a group was watching on a big screen down the hill. After awhile, we got in our tents and
attempted to sleep. We tried hard, but several things prevented us from actually sleeping: 1) The sprint and long-course triathletes were up all night partying since they had already finished their races, 2) the night kept getting colder, 3) Josh didn't have an air mattress, 4) I was laying on my right side so I wouldn't be awkwardly staring towards Josh all night, etc. I kept checking my clock, wondering how long it would be until sleep crept upon me. Every once in awhile, Josh would ask if I was still cold. He gave me his beenie, but that didn't help too much. At 4:30AM, I heard Josh rustle. All of a sudden, I felt his arm and leg wrap around me to help keep me warm. Neither of us said anything. I didn't want to move because I didn't want him to stop holding me; his body warmth was keeping me cozy. I knew he didn't mean anything by it, he just wanted to keep me warm, but I wanted to cherish the next hour and a half in his arms because I knew it was the last time it would happen.
Six AM came too quickly. "Hey Joe! How'd you sleep," yelled the man standing right outside of our tent. The traffic director also stood there and we were able to hear every word of his walkie-talkie, even with the ear plugs Richard gave me. My alarm went off. Time to rise and shine.
As Josh and Luis talked about the temperature of their coffee, I took my time thinking about the events that were about to unfold. I got dressed, made my oatmeal with bananas, nuts and agave and packed up. The traffic director asked me to move my car, so I did, but I didn't tell Josh or Luis. When I got back, they were gone.
My wave didn't start until 10:15AM, so I hung out in my car for a bit, listening to music and pumping my bike tires. The course starts at the bottom of a gnarly hill, so I made sure I had everything I would need for the race so I wouldn't have to return to the car. I carried my bike through the dirt so the tires wouldn't get punctured and made my way to the registration tent.
When I arrived at the transition area, I set up all of my belongings, then I waited... for three hours. I looked for Timmy, Sloan and Josh, but there were so many people, it was impossible to find them. There was a tent selling Peet's coffee and I sincerely considered climbing up the hill to the car to go get my money. Instead, I drank three bottles of water, warmed up briefly and ate a banana. When I returned to my bike, two girls were setting up their bikes next to mine. We all started exchanging small talk and conversing about what we did to train. As I talked with them, I started feeling a lot more confident about the goals I had set. As my competition Amanda and Leslie talked about their training and previous competitions, I knew I would beat them both. While at Starbucks the day prior, I read through my old blogs and there was one where Josh said, "You're above the average, Ash." At that moment, I knew it was true. My hard work was going to pay off today.
After layering on sunscreen and body glide all over my body, I convinced Leslie to walk down to the swim start with me. We watched the men as they transitioned from the water to the ride. Twenty minutes later, it was time to begin.
Several other white-capped girls and I dove into the water to warm-up before our heat. We climbed back out and lined up. the countdown began and off we went. there were limbs everywhere! Every time my hand reached forward, I found myself grabbing onto some girl's thigh. "Sorry's" were yelled out all around me, but I saved my breath, knowing there would be a lot more kicking later on.
Amazingly, I found that I wasn't at the end of the competition. I was somewhere in the middle and I felt strong. "I could actually win this," I thought. "Well, maybe not win, but I could maybe place!!" Then I realized I was letting my head run away with me. "Alright, Ash, don't get too far ahead of yourself. Stay in the moment." Soon, I discovered I could even pick up my pace; unfortunately, I could not stay on a straight path. I swam left, I swerved right. There was no straightness to my stroke. When swimming in open water, I'm like a child who cannot color in between the lines.
Worship music filled my head. Then I tried to change it up by singing
Fake It by Seether. Just as I started getting tired, the kayaker directing the swimmers told me it was time to turn in for the last 100 yards of the swim. I swerved back and forth all the way to the water's edge. As others walked out of the water, I jogged out until I met my transition area. I was completely dehydrated and disoriented. Knowing I wouldn't be able to stay upright on my bike, I stopped and took a second to drink half of one of my four water bottles. I realized somewhere in my confusion, I had lost my goggles from Josh and my Avia Wildflower swim cap, but I couldn't waste time to go back for them. Amanda's bike was gone, but Leslie's was still on the rack. I had no time to waste. I chugged some more water and slid my bike from its post. Knowing I needed some sort of carbohydrate, I tucked a couple of Hammer Gels in my pockets, but didn't want to stop and refuel pre-bike ride like I should have. As I neared the spot where I could get on my bike, someone cheered me on. His friend yelled, "Don't forget your sunglasses!"
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| Transition area |
"Oh, thanks!" I exclaimed, grabbing them from the top of my helmet and clumsily jumping on the bike to face Lynch Hill. Shoot! I forgot my race number, but there was no turning around. Slowly but surely I climbed Lynch Hill, passing several men and women, but barely ever being passed. Halfway up, I realized I had not paced myself and had given too much effort too early. My breathing became hard and rapid, like a morbidly obese man trying to walk up a set of stairs because the elevator was broken. The only thing that kept me from giving up entirely was the thought of my 12:15 cycle class and how they would be disappointed in me if I didn't climb this hill.
Once I hit the top of the hill, I grabbed some water filled with Cytomax out of my bottle; it was refreshing. As I got down low to stay aerodynamic, I watched the oncoming male cyclists come toward me and tried to pick Josh's face out of the crowd. There he was, scaling up the hill, a huge smile plastered on his face. He was riding with the elite and collegiate cyclists. "Dang, what a stud," I thought to myself. "Wait, did he get aerobars?! I can't believe he's already finishing the bike. What a champ."
I passed Amanda on the next hill. Secretly, I was patting myself on the back. One more down, who knows how many to go. We started uphill again and my legs were getting weak. These two college boys were cheering people on at the top. "Just think," one yelled. "You'll be going downhill next time you pass us!" I smiled at him with the biggest grin I could muster. Then I passed a heavy woman clad in lime green from San Francisco. Every time the path rolled downhill though, she would fly past me again, only to be passed as soon as the road levelled out. We got to the turn around and I passed her for the last time.
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| my bike and race number |
As I looked forward at the false flat, I realized I could ride harder, so I picked it up a notch. I also realized I could make this race a better experience for everyone. This may be a competition, but some people were experiencing their first triathlon and needed some encouragement. "On your left," I would cry out, following it with encouraging phrases, such as, "Stay strong" and "You got it".
The road made a sharp descent and my bike glided down the path. Wind pushed against me and I saw a spider dangling from my handlebars, only connected by his web. I tried to swat him off, but nothing worked, he stayed clinging for dear life. As the hill got steeper, my bike went faster and I just prayed he would eventually be blown off. Deciding to ignore him, I finished the hill in time for the hill to make a sharp increase. I felt pretty good climbing up the hill and I was passing some strong women. Nine-tenths of the way up, the spider appeared on my leg, right beneath the hem of my Zoot suit. I tried swatting it, but got so preoccupied that when I looked up, I found myself dangerously close to the edge of the road. It was too late to correct my wheel and my bike went down in the dirt and rocks.
"Are you okay," one woman cried.
Another asked how my leg was. "There's not too much blood," she reassured me. Blood. I didn't even think about the fact that I may have been injured. She was right though; the bleeding wasn't too bad and my leg didn't hurt. I picked myself up and walked my bike up the rest of the hill, making friendly talk with one of the gentlemen climbing up. Once at the top, I hopped on and pedalled hard to make up for lost time.
I came upon the downhill section that takes the cyclists back towards the lake where the boys had cheered me on earlier. They were right, before I had been climbing, now it was time for a leg break. Every time I went downhill, I rested my legs, refusing to waste energy pedaling when it wouldn't do much to speed me up. It seemed like the course went on forever, but we finally made it back to Lynch and I bunkered down low to rest on my way downhill. I came into the transition area quickly, clips already unattached.
As I tried to get to my transition spot, several athletes got in my way. Some strolled side-by-side, talking and taking up space. Others stopped dead in their tracks in front of me, looking for their numbers. I had sighted out my spot, lining it up with an RV, so I knew where to go and these people were trying my patience while I tried to maneuver around them to get there.
I knew the Yankz on my Brooks PureCadence were laced to tightly, so I grabbed their original laces and shoved them in the hip pocket of my Zoot suit, should I need them. I ate a quarter of a protein bar and downed a water bottle. Exchanging my helmet for my hat, I slung on my racing belt and took one last look around to make certain I had everything I needed. Grabbing one more cup of water at the aid station, I crossed the line that marked the run start and took the stairs by the water's edge two at a time. "How does she look so strong," one onlooker questioned.
It wasn't long before I was passing every person I saw. I continued to yell out words of encouragement. "Keep going," I urged one walking man with the words "Joy and Happiness" written on the back of his shirt.
"Oh, honey," he said in a very feminine black woman sort of way. He had some attitude! "I'll keep on strutting my cat walk all the way to the finish line."
I laughed and kept running. The roads got steeper. I passed a sign that read 3. Three miles in 18 minutes? That can't be right! I'm not going
that quickly! It wasn't until I hit the sign reading 4 that I realized it was refering to kilometers. Aw man!
My feet were completely numb due to the fact that the shoes were cutting off all circulation of the blood. Maybe I should stop and switch laces. That would take too long. I didn't want to get passed. What if the people whom I had just finished motivating laughed at me? What if Amanda and/or Leslie passed me?
The hill just continued to get steeper and never seemed to smooth out. My feet were completely drained of blood. I decided to walk to try to regain feeling in my toes. It didn't help, so before the 5th kilometer, I stopped to loosen my laces.
"Are you okay?" a cute, athletic woman asked as she ran past. "Yeah, my Yankz are just too tight," I responded. "Oh I hate that," she replied. "Well, I'm glad it's just that and not your foot."
I took off my shoes and started running barefoot, only able to continue because of the signs posted with inspirational Bible verses, like Philipians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". I let God be my strength, but I still had to alternate between walking and running. Once the road changed to dirt, I had to put my shoes back on. Ahh! Time was ticking! The feeling in my feet still wasn't completely restored.
For a little while, I ran. A snake striped like a zebra slithered six feet in front of me. Not knowing what kind it was or if it was poisonous, I decided to stop and wait for it to pass. I couldn't get my running legs back. A boy came toward me with a post in his hands and a sign that read "No Stopping". "C'mon," he demanded. "Get those bright shoes moving! Read the sign! No stopping!" I thanked him as I began trotting forward.
As I neared Lynch Hill, I picked up speed and took the beatings as I rolled downhill. When I reached the final stretch of the race, I picked up speed and passed the finish line with my hands held high. A 3:24 flashed on the clock. A medal was placed around my neck, my timing chip was removed and the only thing on my mind was water, finding Sloan and wheter or not Josh had seen me finish.
Josh finished with a 2:27.31, 52nd place overall.
Timmy finished with a 2:56.53, 140th place overall.
Ashlee (that's me!) finished with 3:24.29, 1041st place overall.
Sloan finished with a 3:26.25, 1082nd place overall.
Leslie finished with a 3:54:42, 1511th place overall.
Amanda finished with a 4:02.23, 1591st place overall.
Over 8,000 competed in our race alone. I beat over 7,000 people. That's actually kind of cool. Josh beat like everyone. He's amazing.
Now it's time to train for the Santa Barbara Triathlon!
