By Triathlon spectator – Lynne Evans

Recently I was asked if I would like to enter the Husky Tri.

A great deal of enthusiasm was expressed about the Enticer Tri. After the question was asked I said: “No.”

You may ask “Why not?”

I can swim, I could manage a short run and I can ride a bike. Those 3 things are not the reason for saying “No”. There is nothing wrong with swimming, cycling or running because cross training is a very good approach to fitness. However, for me, doing these activities on different days is far more appealing!

I was keen to go as a supporter. I listened and heard the plans. This person was going in that car but the bike was in another car; this person was taking the car and now they are not; this one needs a lift. Another wanted to shop for a bike rack to go on the car tow bar, even though there was no tow bar fitted to the car!

As these permutations were shuffled around, my brain was starting to go on a private journey. A list of reasons for not competing began forming in my mind and I knew for sure that a Tri was not on my bucket list.

This is the list:

1. SO. You start to pack your swimming costume, goggles, towel and the cap (if you have it). You question yourself and others as to the benefits of wearing a wet suit. After multiple different versions of the pros and cons you decide that you will not wear a wet suit.
2. SO. You pack your bike, helmet and cycling shoes. You decide on a kit to wear if you don’t wear what you swam in; your water bottle (or bottles), check the computer is working; you question whether to have a tool kit, a pump and spare tubes. You decide that if you get a puncture the day will finish early and you don’t want the extra weight to slow you down. You think about what you will need to eat after the swim and wonder will you need sunglasses or not also how will you display your number. Decisions, decisions.
3. SO. You pack your running gear. Decide what shoes to wear and whether you will need socks; then there is the number to think about again. What do I need to eat, to drink. Do I wear a cap?
4. Weeks back when you decided to enter and register you noticed the bank balance went down; but that is okay because you will get a gift. You realise that if you were to be in a Tri where you spent much longer in the water, longer cycling and longer running your bank balance would be in a poorer state. A friend tells you an Iron Man can cost $1,000. This time that is not your concern.
5. On the day, hoping you have packed all that is needed you head to registration and wonder where to leave your valuable bike and other gear. You get your gift, your number and then work out how to get the bike, the bags and the gift up to wherever you wait for transition to open. Thankfully a smiling face you recognise offers to assist you with your bike and baggage.
6. Finally you hear that transition has opened. You line up as the bike and helmet are checked. You once again hope you have remembered everything you will need because when transition closes it is closed.
7. You hang your much loved bike on a rack next to someone else’s much loved bike and put your gear in the space allocated to you which is the size of a small fruit box.
8. NOW. It is time to assemble for the swim. Cap on, goggles in hand and if you had changed your mind about the wet suit you get friends or a stranger to help you get inside and try, then, to resume normal breathing after holding in the tummy or anything else that
   needs to be reduced in size.
9. You are standing on the shore. You are cold and the water looks even colder. You wonder, again, if you should have worn a wet suit. Too late now.
10. You are now standing in the water. You hope the whistle or gun goes off soon as you feel quite nervous. You remind yourself that you have prepared well – it should be okay.
11.  Now you are swimming. Heading for the first buoy and hoping the person in front doesn’t kick you in the face for a third time. A mouthful of salty water doesn’t interrupt your stroke. You swim on.
12. As you head for the last buoy you think about getting up those steep stairs to he
    ad for the bike. Things to do in transition run through your mind. As you leave the water and start the climb you are grateful that you didn’t wear a wet suit as you notice the contortions that others are going through trying to find the zipper of their suits.
13. Eventually you find your bike. Okay you went up the wrong aisle twice and wonder if you will
    find your bike. You think “No one needs to know this”.
14. You get ready for the ride remembering to put your helmet on before taking the bike off the rack. You suck on a gel, check fluids you need for the bike leg. Put on your cycling shoes….OR NOT.
15. You run barefoot with your bike not noticing the sticks and gum nuts under your feet IF you have shoes clicked onto your pedals OR you hobble with your cleats if you are not doing the cool Tri thing of getting into your shoes as you ride.
16. SO. You reach the mounting line. You do okay and breathe a grateful sigh of relief that you manage to do that quite well: Too many on-lookers to muff the start. Now you put your very wet bum on your bike seat which soon becomes wet and a bit slimy.
17. On this particular day the rain starts and gets heavier further into the ride. No need to worry about the wet seat as everything is getting wet.  The road is wet and you hope all goes well under the current conditions. You slow down and hope this isn’t something you will later regret – a medal is a possibility.
18. You are warned down the road that the finish is just ahead. You are heading for the dismount line a little faster than you hope. The person in front slips and can’t get their leg over the water bottles sitting behind the bike seat. You think to yourself “I hope I’m more graceful than that – here goes”. Gratefully, you dismount with finesse. Now you run or hobble to rack the bike. Your brain goes into overdrive; bike up first, helmet off second. Everything is wet as transition isn’t covered. Ah well!
19. SO. Now the run begins. Your legs feel weird after the ride. You slow down until you feel your legs attempt to remember what they have been trained to do in all those ‘brick’ sessions. The sweet gel taste is in your mouth. A quick sip of water helps remove the yucky taste.
20. It is raining heavily. You can’t help thinking “what makes me want to do this to myself. All I really want is a cup of coffee and something other than a b…gel to eat”. There is thunder and lightning as you approach the last 2 kilometres. Now you are approaching all those supporters that have waited for you. They yell “sprint to the finish” and “go, go go”, it’s okey for them to say sprint to the finish! Anyway I put on my happy face until I pass them, and soon the finish line is there and I cross it. I’m done. I’m over the line.
21. Later, still very wet, you collect your bike and other bits and pieces. The bike is filthy from the debris on the wet roads and you know it is another job to do when you get home – clean the bike.
22. You wonder did you win a medal or how you did in your age group. Then before you know it you are asked “are you doing the Batemans Bay Tri?”

After a noisy lunch with other competitors, supporters and multiple analyses of the event; and wishing you had done better in the swim, hadn’t ridden so slow, or had run faster or slower, you head for home and a shower and dry clothes. You are really looking forward to a cup of coffee or tea, or a G&T, or a glass of Champagne or Shiraz or water.

For me, I have 22 reasons why when I’m next asked: “Do you want to enter a Tri?” I can, with certainty, say: “NO – thank you.”

For those of you that do compete though, hats off to you all and well done!