Six full water bottles

...do not necessarily mean there's something for you to drink.

That is just one of the lessons I learned today. Another one would be that using the bathroom before you struggle into your wetsuit is a really good idea.

For those of you who have been reading my blog for at least a year, I'm sure you know what I'm about to tell you.  Classes have ended, spring is in the air, I've been running, biking, and swimming like there's no tomorrow; yes, it's time for the first triathlon of the season.

This year, since I really didn't have enough on my plate already with a 7/6 teaching load, I decided to sign up for an Olympic distance event. Just in case you're really don't feel like clicking on the link, and to further underline the insanity of this event, an Olympic (or international) triathlon entails a 0.93 mi swim, a 25 mi bike, and a 6.2 mi run. Carried out consecutively, by the same person, on the same day, and within four hours.

To further complicate things, this event was not only held two hours away from our home, which meant we had to drive up the night before and get a hotel, but the location was also north of us, entailing cold lake water and the necessity of wetsuits. And I learned lots of new things.

One of them was the fact that when you know you're about to exercise for at least three hours, you have a carefully thought out hydration plan. Your bottles contain heed, recoverite, water, perpetuem, and are all mixed to your preferred ratio. So when it's forty minutes before race time, and you're thirsty, you know better than to mess with those carefully prepared bottles, and you suddenly become very grateful for the half-full week-old zephyrhills bottle in your husband's car.

Traveling to triathlons is possibly the most complicated thing one can do. Husband-dear and I had almost as much luggage as a friend who traveled with four kids including two newborns. You not only need your bikes, you need your wetsuits, your transition bags, your PJs, your clothes for after the race, your breakfast, your post-race snacks, your toolbox, bicycle pump, and whatever back up material your lovely wife feels you simply must take.

Another lesson I learned is that whenever the water is wetsuit legal (tri-speak for Really Cold), I better race with husband-dear or have him with me, as I there is no way I can get into the suit properly without his "caboose lift", aka a tri-sanctified wedgie. And that no matter how hard you try to remain standing when you're pulling off your wetsuit, it's just not going to happen, and you will end up on your butt in the grass.

Possible the most important lesson, however, was that it's really not very smart to schedule a major race such as this one a week after commencement. My swim was slightly erratic (although this could be attributed to low visibility and the optimist decision on my part to wear my shaded goggles); 8 miles in to the bike my behind felt as though it was on fire, and the only reason I PR-ed on the run was because Shelly ran it with me.

But I made it. And well within my personally imposed time limit. In spite of that, though, I know I could have done better. So you all know what that means...yes, I'm going to have to do it again.
Well, dang. I really should take up crocheting instead.