There are some events where the main goal is to go faster, and there are other races where you push yourself to go farther.
The Annie Oakley Triathlon was an example of the latter.
The Road to an Olympic Triathlon
I ran my first triathlon I 2023, a sprint distance event, and repeated the race the following summer. This year, I pushed myself to try the longer Olympic race. I mean, why not? I had already notched a half marathon and a 25k under my belt, so a 10k was no problem. During the warm months, I log 80-100 miles a week on my bike, so a 25-mile bike ride is merely a Tuesday morning for me. The only thing I had to do was train my body to swim 1500 meters; my longest, contiguous swim before that point was a 750-meter swim. I knew my body could handle it, but that kind of swim is primarily a mental challenge.
So, I got up early on dark winter mornings to swim dozens of laps in my local YMCA’s pool. Once the weather crept above freezing, I disciplined myself to bike to the pool to acclimate myself to stringing those legs together. Eventually, our wet winter yielded to crisp spring days, and I could log some training miles on the bike. By early March, I began my brick workouts, gradually increasing my volume week after week.
Triathlon training is, at minimum, a 10-hour weekly part-time job. Each trip to the pool, including the commute, was 75 minutes. Each 20-mile training spin was 75 minutes. My shortest brick workout took 45 minutes, and my longest brick took nearly 2 hours. I also completed three hours of cross-training a week.
This training all happened while managing a piano studio of 50 students, hosting an annual studio recital, preparing my full-length spring recital, and serving as a bass section leader for the Episcopal cathedral. Yes, I provided the soundtrack for the Passion and Resurrection of our Lord and Savior one week before running this blessed triathlon.
My social life is the gym, the bike, the pool, and the rehearsal space.
Finally, Race Day Eve was upon me, and I trekked up to Shelby Forest to grab my race pack and prepare for that brutal four AM alarm.
Race Day Play by Play
0400, the alarm goes off. Pointless, since I slept like shit the night before. I grabbed my overnight oats and protein waffle mix out of the fridge while the kettle was heating water for coffee. My cantankerous cat clearly communicated that she expected to be fed as well, as long as we’re up.
0500, I load my bike on the bike rack and put my race day duffle bag into the car. I turn up the race day hype playlist - Lady Gaga, Beyonce, various ska bands - and drive to Shelby Forest State Park.
0535, I park and unload my gear. I hop on my bike to ride the last mile to the transition area. The referee checked my bike, and I set out all my materials. The sun rises over the lake, and I begin to limber. I jump in the water for a 50m warm-up swim; it’s a refreshing 74º, perfect for swimming.
0655, the MC calls over all the athletes to the dock and announces the order of waves. Olympic Division women first, then Olympic Men second, individual entrance. I check - and re-check - my swim cap and goggles. My heart rate is slightly elevated because I am eager to get this show on the road. Stay steady, and enjoy the day. Except…
0710, the MC announces a race delay because the ambulance is not onsite. They went to the wrong visitor center of the state park. “It should be only a 5-minute delay; they’re on their way!” The MC is annoyed. The race director is annoyed. I’m annoyed. Every athlete and their mother is annoyed. It took 20 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. What can you do?
0730, the gun goes off, and we’re in the water. I should back up a second to say, it’s intimidating to see a 1500m swim course laid out on the open water. When you’re used to swimming 25m laps in the pool, 1500 meters feels much more manageable, but on the open water, 1500 meters is a long ass haul. Make like Dory and just keep swimming.
The hardest part of open water swimming is sighting your buoys to keep on track, especially when swimming right into the rising sun. I couldn’t see anything for a 500-meter stretch of water, so I just tracked with a swimmer slightly ahead of me. I figured if he were off track, then we’d get lost together. Eventually, I reached the terminus of the swim course and turned around to head back to the dock. With the sun behind me, I could keep a more steady pulse. I finished my swim in 32 minutes and returned to the transition area.
0808, I mounted my bike to begin the 25.7-mile bike course, two 12+ mile loops on the beautiful roads of hilly Shelby Forest. I spend my summers biking these roads, so I am intimately familiar with every turn, incline, and dip of the course. It was not my fastest bike leg by a long shot, but I reminded myself that this is a “go farther” race, not a “go faster” race.
On the second lap of the course, in the middle of a tree-covered road, I said aloud to no one in particular, “What a gift to have a body that’s strong enough to do this.” The lengths I competed on this race were the same lengths Olympic triathletes did in the Paris Olympics. How cool is that?
As a word of advice for anyone considering their first triathlon, I hydrate and fuel up on the bike leg. The hardest part of the race is the last portion, and you can’t fuel up in the first leg (please do not drink the lake water). The bike leg is the best time to recuperate spent energy on the swim while also preparing the hard effort of the run.
The final stretch of the bike course was a steady descent into the transition area, so I stopped pedaling for the last 800 meters and coasted to the bike corrals. While returning to home base, I watched the Sprint division athletes walk their bikes to their cars; they were finished for the morning.
0938, I quickly switched from my cleats to my running shoes and grabbed half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich and my third bike bottle. I walked out of the transition area while eating my snack, watching my heart rate drop to a manageable number. Here's a lesson I learned the hard way from my first triathlon: walking the first little bit of the run leg is okay. I know it's a race, but I strongly recommend walking so your body can reset for the last push. I finished my sammich, took a swig of sports drink, and settled into a trot for the long 10k run.
If you’ve lost track, I have been racing for 2 hours by now, and I have about one hour of physical activity left.
The most amazing thing happened, though - I felt no pain during the run. I was able to complete this entire race without feeling any pain at all. Oh sure, in the final half mile, I got a wee bit tight in my right quad, but I set that tightness aside by turning on the jets to finish strong.
Instead of suffering, I chatted with the other athletes on our run. I set pace with a realtor from Jackson, TN, who was training for an Ironman 70.3 in Chattanooga later this month. I cheered on athletes as we ran past each other on the course. The high school volunteers working the Gatorade tables were such a vibe; one girl said, “My pleasure” as she handed me my Gatorade, and I hope she enjoys her new nickname, “Chik-fil-a.”
1035, I crossed the finish line with a smile on my face. I hit all of my goals for the day.
1500m Swim:
Goal: Finish in 35 minutes AKA just happy to be here
Official result: 34:36.3 (caveat: my watch said I finished in 32:02, with a longer transition time)
25 Mile Bike:
Goal: 17 MPH Pace
Official result: 1:27:37.3 (17.7 MPH pace)
10K Run:
Goal: 9:30 pace, or sub one hour 10K.
Official Result: 58:34.7 (9:37/mi. Slightly slower than I wanted, but still hit a sub-hour 10k)
When I printed my official results out, I saw my efforts earned me a podium spot: 1st place in my age group (40-44, male). Somewhere, some time, 16 year old Jimmy is proud and still confused that he grew up to be this endurance athlete who likes putting his body through hard races.
This was a great race, and I look forward to running it again next year.
