Ah, Kansas

I heard that nearly 30% of the entrants in the Kansas 70.3 race on Sunday DNFed. I was, unfortunately, one of them.

I hate DNFs. I'm not used to them, and they feel really crappy. My one consolation is that I didn't finish the race, not because I gave up, but because I just ran out of time.

Pre-race posing.

I had spent three fairly sleepless weeks debating about doing that race. My swim performance at the KC Tri was less than desirable and most definitely a confidence bomb. Xanax wasn't helping (and it might have even hindered) and my shiny new Medium-Large wetsuit didn't seem to be doing the trick either. It still seemed to constrictive in the torso, in spite of the larger size. Luckily, one of my friends had an XL and wasn't doing the race, so I thought I'd try hers.That seemed to do the trick! No more struggling to expand my chest! No tendency to hyperventilate. The only drawback was that it was a full sleeve model. I was a little concerned that it would feel suffocating. It didn't!

So, fast forward to last weekend. I had done several 2,000+ yard swims in the borrowed suit and was feeling cautiously optimistic about the race. The weather forecast all along had been promising really hot and typically humid conditions. However, when I checked in my bike on Saturday, the wind was blowing so hard, the lake had whitecaps and literally looked like it had a current. The question of whether it would be wetsuit-legal was still up in the air. On Saturday, the lake was 77 degrees. Would it cool off during the night to drop it .9 degrees? Would the wind die down by morning?

No to both of those questions. The water was 76.8 degrees, .7 degrees hotter than allowed. And while it wasn't as bad as on Saturday, the wind was still significant. I knew from the beginning that I would wear a wetsuit regardless of the temperature. The race officials deemed that the wetsuit racers would start in the last wave. Yes! I don't really like swimmers coming up on me. What I didn't realize was that by being in the last wave, I only had an hour and ten minutes to complete the swim. Whoops. If I'd gone in my regular heat, I would have had an additional 30 minutes, but had I gone with my wave without a suit, I would have been pulled out of the water much, much sooner.

The deep water start was not the issue that I thought it might be.  I floated like a cork in the suit. The horn sounded and we all took off. The water was extremely choppy. I would swim 8-9 strokes and get a snootful of water.  I would then stop and bob while I cleared the water from my nose and wait for the next 2-3 waves pass by. And, so this pattern continued, slowly. The current-like waves kept blowing me away from the course, which was another slight problem as I lost time making course corrections. After 50 minutes, I had not made it quite to first turn buoy and the swim captain deemed it was  time for me to get out of the water. To be totally honest, I was a bit relieved. I would have kept plugging along, but the chop was really getting on my nerves. Stopping and bobbing around in the water certainly eats up a lot of time!

So, my race ended almost before it began. I was disappointed, as I had trained pretty hard for this event. My main goal was to get out of the water in regulation. The heat and the wind were good conditions to test nutrition for Louisville, needless to say the confidence builder it would have also provided. In spite of that minor sting, I was in pretty good spirits. I joined the Reds cheering squad and watched my teammates come into the finish on a record-breaking hot and miserable day.

Sunday wasn't my day. This did and still does to some degree cause me to stop and think about this sport. The swimming aspect has caused me no end of stress as I look back over the past seven triathlons started in the past two seasons. Two resulted in DNFs, and in three more, I've had some kind of problem, all related to the swim. I can look back at one open water race where I had no excuses. It hasn't been for lack of trying as I've never put so much work into a discipline and not reap the benefits of it on race day.

However, I have to say that my coach's fiance did bring it home in a somewhat profound way when he wrote in an email (paraphrased): the victory is so much sweeter, when adversity is overcome to achieve the goal. I haven't had to work that hard at my successes in running. I had some natural ability, seem to be biomechanically built for running and my good peasant stock gives me the general toughness to go long distances. I've come a long way in this whole swimming arena, and I need to remember where I was this time last year. No, the Kansas 70.3 doesn't need to be viewed as a failure, but another opportunity to gain valuable experience. The fact that I was never scared or panicky is a victory in of itself. Kansas 70.3, we just may have a date in 2013.