The One Swim-Bike-Run

Gasping for air, I lifted my face from the water to scan for the buoy I was swimming toward and could have sworn it was drifting farther away!

Pushing onward (and trying to figure out how the hell to swim in a straight line) I noticed the lead swimmer shoot past me in the opposite direction at what seemed like an impossible pace. Great, I thought to myself, I’m not even halfway and that psycho is almost out of the water! Another 200 excruciating meters later and my feet touched the mushy bottom of Lake Hayes. Throwing a quick look over my shoulder I wasn’t surprised to see only a handful of women still swimming behind me. I had my work cut out for me for the next two legs of my first triathlon (since my glory days as a six-year-old CARD triathlete superstar in Bidwell Park).

Half stumbling, half jogging, I made my way up the hill to the staging area where my bike (a roadie rental from work) was waiting for me. While tying my shoes, I noticed how few bikes were still in the staging area and silently cursed myself for not training more in the water. The irritation fueled my adrenaline, and as I ran through the grass toward the road with my bike- I began my attack. Picking off two competitors before leaping onto my bike, I then put it in high gear and charged past several more women on the gravel, my thin wheels precariously balancing over the ruts.

Once on the road, I came around a corner and noticed the dozens of women ahead of me, all pedaling vigorously through the rolling hills. Soon an unplanned group of cars turning were slowing down a group of fellow riders and myself. After about 10 seconds of impatient waiting, I looked over my shoulder to the car behind me, threw my arm out to signal I was merging, and riding out into the oncoming lane, I furiously peddled past the traffic whilst passing another three or four competitors. Over the next few miles I set my sights on the woman in front of me until she was behind and continued to push my pace through the beautiful New Zealand countryside. Thankful for my summer evenings spent climbing up steep mountains in search of downhill rides, I took advantage of a number of big climbs on the way back to overtake several groups.

In the final leg of the ride, I finally met my match in the form of a small woman in blue trainers. We used a bit of teamwork to draft off one another (a helpful break from arduous solo pedaling) until we arrived back at the staging area. Shouting a few words of encouragement at one another, we ran to drop off our bikes before losing each other in the mayhem of runners, bikers, and supporters.

With legs of jello I jogged back out toward the trail, listening to friends cheering and re-adjusting my mop of hair as I ran. Knowing running was one of my strong suits, I mentally had a laugh at all the impressive swimmers and continued my attack. Tired and feeling energy slip away with each step, I didn’t know if I would be able to catch anyone else. Luckily, everyone else was drained too, and I’d like to think my rugby mentality of “all out, all 80-minutes” helped me push through the fatigue. Gaining on and overtaking one exhausted woman after another, I forced myself up what seemed like vertical mountains before letting my momentum build and sprinting down the other sides.

A good second-wind allowed me to muster up a quicker pace as I noticed bigger gaps between runners. Finally, realizing I had less than a mile to go and no one close enough to catch-up to, I let up on my “race” mentality and enjoyed the sun, the stunning lake view, and the elation of competing again. A smile broke on my face as my feet hit the grass and the finish line was in sight.

Just over an hour of swimming, biking and running had passed and I felt the exhaustion melt away into euphoria and satisfaction as I crossed the finish line already thinking about entering my next race.

-Ashley

Fun Fact: Two 12-year-old girls competed in the race, one of them completing the course ahead of over half the field!