The human body is made up of approximately 70% water. Yesterday, mine was composed of 70% Lake Ponchatrain. As athletes we’re told to “leave it out on the course”. Today I did just that. Unfortunately I used up everything before I was finished swimming.

The swim
Massive waves dominated the lake. Visibility was difficult with the swells coming in quick intervals. Being a poor to fair swimmer already, my injury and subsequent lack of training, I was totally unprepared for the chop of the water.
The beach start was nice. The sand was soft but packed and there were no rocks to worry about in the water. Knowing my ability and training level, I started at the very back of my group. We all ran/walked as far as possible before putting our faces in the water. When I finally put my face in the water and started freestyle I was pleased to note that the water was a churlish brown and that I couldn’t see anything. Good news—I would not have panic attacks due to seeing something in the water.
After about a minute of attempting to swim freestyle I gave up. I switched to my comfort zone of side stroke but told myself that I would switch back once I cleared the massive head-on waves when we turned. I actually kept my word and did switch to freestyle—for about a minute. The waves overwhelmed me. The amount of effort I had to put out just to get a little distance was disheartening. I got my focus back and knew I could weather it and just keep going.
About half way through the swim my right calf started cramping. At first it was small cramps but then it turned to take-your-breath-away cramps. I flipped on my back and forced it to relax. I attempted to do a little more freestyle but discovered that the cramps were just as bad doing that. Because it was easier for me I kept up the side stroke, knowing it would tire out my legs but also knowing I didn’t have much of a choice anymore. My left leg joined the cramp party a few minutes later. I floundered out in the waves just telling myself I could see the next turn buoy.
Finally I reached the buoy and headed to shore. The minute my feet could touch bottom I started walking. I was exhausted. I started the wetsuit extraction process and was searching for a stripper. I was lucky to find a guy that had experience. I plopped my butt on the ground and he yanked it off perfectly. Wetsuit in hand, I trotted through the grass and sticker burrs to my bike.

The bike
I transitioned to the bike relatively fast (considering my energy level). I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything.
The minute I got on my bike I put something in my stomach to avoid bonking. After a mile or so I noticed that my energy level was still low and that pedaling was taking more effort than it should. I had to stay in my small chain ring but figured I would pay attention to my new obsession: the cadence.
Both calves were still very sore. The entire ride they threatened more cramps.
The bike course was mostly flat. There are two hills and both of them are in the first 5 miles of the ride. When doing an out-and-back course that means that there are two hills in the last five miles as well. Ugh.
All I can say for the bike is that it felt like there was headwind for most of a lot of the ride. We had several out-and-backs. I am not sure if it was a true headwind but it taxed my already over-taxed body. Pedaling was all I could do. I was very happy to pass a few people from my age group (having started at the very back it was nice to know I was no longer DFL).
I love my new bike. I really do. It is light and pretty and enjoyable to ride but I was in a state of bliss when I was able to rack that sucker and abandon it for the last discipline of the race.

The run
I transitioned relatively well. Again, I made sure I had everything I needed (and nothing I didn’t, like a helmet). The run out was quite a distance away from the bikes so I got in practice jog to see how my legs would tolerate me. They complained but didn’t give out. The run is my favorite because you can actually stop running and walk—whenever you want. I took advantage of that for most of the course.
My legs (calves and quads) were exhausted still. Since I’m still having trouble w/my legs I’m not able to properly use my glutes and hamstrings. I really did try to force them into service but I was now mentally whipped as well so it was too hard. I managed to keep a good pace when I was running but my body was winning the battle over my brain. I would say I walked ¼ of each mile (minimum).
About mile 6 I started to feel nauseas. Some of the Gatorade was mixed rather strongly and that first sip had been a surprise and I thought it upset my stomach. The heat (82+) was also a factor. There wasn’t much shade on the course. Also, there was the fact that I was carrying most of Lake Ponchatrain in my stomach. Whatever the cause, I ended up stopping at mile 7 to completely lose my lunch. I was considerate enough to remove myself from the course (away from everyone else). I don’t know how but that took even more energy from me. I consciously drank and ate more so I could get as much energy as possible.
The last few miles were down Esplanade. About mile 10 there was a surprise. A parade was coming towards us. Really—a parade. Part of our exorbitant registration fee was for street closures and cop protection. Somehow this parade managed to get by all of that. There were floats and about 5 cars with people (a small parade) with a few hundred people following. The crowd decided to be on our side of the street. Dodging drunken people intent of following their parade is not easy. They took up the entire street and we (the tired runners) were left to attempt to make our way through them. The police stood there and watched with expressions of “what do you want me to do?” The bright side: it was loud, there was music and it completely distracted me from how tired I was and how much my body hurt.
Our final stretch was into the quarter. We turned on Decatur for the last stretch. The smell of the French Quarter hit me before I could process why I smelled it. It was nice to be cheered on by a bunch of drunk people (in the middle of the afternoon) as I struggled the last half mile.

Due to so many injuries of late, I wasn’t remotely prepared for this race. I knew this going in and I am not surprised by my time (I’m actually a little pleased it wasn’t worse). All in all am proud of this race. I took it seriously this time—no swim rescues this time and no pity for a new friend having a bad run. It was just me this time. It may be my slowest time but I did it.