I’d like to thank all of the people who provided images for this movie. I’d give you credit but honestly, I don’t remember all of the sources who provided pictures (and no, I didn’t necessarily ask permission) so I won’t try to name some at the risk of leaving out others. If you see a picture that is yours and really wish I hadn’t done that please let me know – I can edit this any time. On the flip side, there are surely many more photos that could have gone in to this and I would be happy to edit and extend it over time.

As I was making it, at first it seemed too long and then too short and it was never just right because there is no way to convey the experience of attending and competing in Wildflower with a large community other than to be there.

Wildflower 2008 – Be There!

I was trying to raise my arms over my head and look triumphant but I just look knackered – and I was.

Wildflower – The Movie! will be along shortly but I need some more photos. I picked from everything that I’ve found on-line via Kahuna and blogs that I read but if you have some good shots please send them my way!

Thanks.

I don’t have a whole lot more to say about the race. Anyone who has been reading these Wildflower stories over the last couple days probably gets that the courses be they long course or short course are tough. The environment is tough. You take about 8500 athletes, cram them and their friends and families into a hot, dry dip between a bunch of big hills, provide them with next to nothing in terms of amenities and then send them off to swim in cold choppy water, bike over high hill and rolling dale and run up dusty, dirty trails under the blazing hot sun. It’s awesome! If nothing else you know you are alive when you’re done because what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger and if you get to the end and you’re not dead you have a great sense of vitality.

When I finally found my way out of Lake San Antonio I ran to my transition area which was not too too far from the swim out. I had still not conquered the art of getting my wet suit off and it took me quite a long time. I almost called over to some guys for assistance but I’m glad I didn’t because I do believe they were DQing people for that. I finally got the damned thing off, dried my feet, put on my bike shoes and ran about a mile to the bike out area. Seriously – we were way far away from that. T1: 7:12 (!!!!!)

My ride was good. I had plenty of water and I drank some Gatorade endurance here and there. I had Nuun but never drank it (big mistake). I also had Cliff Bloks in my Bento Box and managed to eat 2 or 3 (which doesn’t even come close to how many calories I needed).

I loved the ride, though. I thought Lynch Hill would kill me but it didn’t. None of the other hills killed me, either. I just spun up and pounded down and had a great old time. When I got back to T2 in 2:06 (by my Garmin) I was happy. Not everyone would be happy with 25 miles in 2:06 but I thought it would take me longer because I’m not a really strong rider. So happy, happy, joy, joy – its time to run.

Of course I discovered that my running shoes were still tied. I guess I was nervous when I set up – doh! I didn’t realize how bad off I was until I took off without my Gu that I had carefully decanted into a gel flask. I had grabbed a protein bar and downed a couple of Sports Legs caps, though. I ran toward the mats and noticed my HR was at 146 and I thought that was high to start a run so I stopped, still in the transition area, and drank water. I just wanted it to come down to 125. I waited. I was panting. I was hot. I kind of knew I was in trouble. Finally I crossed the mats – T2: 7:22 (!!!!) So about 15 minutes of my total time was just in transition. Total rookie maneuver – live and learn!

I started running but that didn’t last long. It was hot and my heart rate kept jumping back up. I walked. I got to the mile1 aid station and drank water and got hosed down. I tried to eat some protein bar but I couldn’t swallow it. My stomach started going south. I tried to run. I walked. I tried to run… and on it went until I pretty much gave it up and just walked. I was so sick by mile 3 I couldn’t drink water any more. I just kept moving. Mile 4 – yeah! Mile 5 Hooray! Downhill soon! I got to the top of the hill and started running down. I ran, I walked, I just wanted to make sure I could run the chute. And then there it was – the chute! I ran and they called my name and I ran and I knew no one would be left in the stands for me because I took so long getting in. I was a little sad but what could anyone do? There were a lot of long drives to be taken.

Total stats (and I won’t be 53 until 12/29 but USAT uses your age as of 12/31)

I was so happy to be done. I got my medal and my washcloth and went down by the water. I was going to get in but I didn’t want to walk barefoot back to my stuff so I skipped it. Then I had to take my stuff and bike and face a steep set of stairs. This was my undoing. I got up the stairs and my heart rate was through the roof (at some point it went to 217) and I was so sick – so incredibly sick. I stopped, leaned over and put my head on my saddle and scared a lot of people. A really nice man stopped and asked if I was okay and I said “yes – I just need a minute”. He offered to get me over to the medical tent but I demurred because it was too far to walk. A couple minutes and a few feet later I put my bike on a rack, put my bag on the ground, l and laid down with my head on my pack which scared some more people but I just needed to lie down.

I finally managed to get back to my tent and the campsite that had been packed the night before was empty. Someone had taken the stakes out of my tent, presumably as a nice gesture and it was. I decided I would just lie in the tent for a little bit until I felt strong enough to pack up the car. Not too long after that a stiff wind came up and blew the tent over, door side down – with me in it. WHOA! I had to jump up and save myself from being blown away! I scrambled out and quickly took the tent down and realized that I felt fine – I was ready to pack up and go.

Driving home I felt shamed and humiliated and hateful and loathsome of my participation in endurance sports. I was sure I would never try anything like Wildflower again. I’m all better now. It does take courage to attempt a triathlon of any distance and Wildflower is an especially demanding event. I signed up, showed up and I finished and of that I am really proud. I’m already looking for my next Oly and thinking about how I want to do Wildflower next year. I got the fevah baby and I need more cowbell. More triathlon cowbell.

Stay tuned for “Wildflower – the Movie” coming to a blog near you early next week.

My swim at Wildflower was wild – really wild. It was confusing and confounding and a whole lot longer than it should have been and I didn’t understand why until Monday, long after the race was over.

I may have mentioned once or twice that I have the world’s worst sense of direction and that I can get lost in a walk-in closet. I actually did get lost in a walk-in closet when I was a kid. It was a very large house and the closet had doors to several rooms but still. I was totally lost. Another thing I do is glance at directions or just not even bother with that, say to myself, “oh yeah, yeah – I know how to get there” and then head out, without any directions at all. I go entirely the wrong way and spend a lot of time turning around, scratching my head and making my trip take longer than it should. I do this repeatedly because I seem to forget about my little handicap with alarming regularity. Lucky for me, right before I started the swim Bold told me that on the way in all I had to do was site the big balloon arch and head that way. I was good to go.

Now, you may recall from my brief report of Sunday night that my goggles fogged up the second I put them on my face and hit the water and that I swam most of the course blind – really blind. I knew there were swimmers around me but I couldn’t see the buoys. Turns out that wasn’t just because of my fogged up goggles.

I started the race in the middle of the pack although it had been my intention to be to the right and toward the back. Much of our wave sort of coalesced around me after I picked my spot. The horn went off and I ran down the ramp like very one else and hit the water. I was smack dab in the middle of the washing machine but it was okay – except I couldn’t see. I just kept swimming.

I swam and swam and swam and swam and wondered where was the damned buoy and then BONK – I hit a kayak. I looked up, squinted through the fog, located some splash and headed that way. I could sort of see a buoy by now. For those of you who have never done a triathlon we’re not talking about those little things that mark a channel – these are huge, inflatable, bright orange buoys.

At this point I am totally disoriented – I have no idea where I am in the water relative to the course and then I hear a guy shouting ‘RIGHT! RIGHT!” so I head right. I must have been near a buoy at that point and I actually think that after I headed right I ended up almost inside the perimeter but there was another boat so I swung wide and just kept swimming.

I swam and swam and swam and I still couldn’t see and I guess I drew someone off with me because I was not alone. Then the colors of the caps started changing (again, for you non-triathletes they put each wave in the same colored cap). I was a blue cap and I found myself amid green and yellow and white and I realized that I was passing really slow swimmers from earlier waves and being passed by fast swimmers from a later wave. It didn’t matter, though because I still couldn’t get a bead on where I was. I just kept swimming.

And then – rising from the water like the promised land was a buoy – huzzah! I swam to that buoy and got right up close to it, swung around the corner and headed out like a bat out of hell. I was squinting and looking for the balloon arch and I couldn’t see it and I thought ‘WHERE THE HELL ARE THOSE BALLOONS???!!” and then BONK! I hit another boat. At that point I grabbed it and pulled my goggles up and saw that I was way, way off course. I was almost to the other boat launch – so close, in fact that I could smell the gas in the water.

“What the hell!!??? Why are you so far out??!!!!” I yelled at the poor kid. He smiled and said, “yeah – there aren’t enough of us out here. Just head over there and join the other swimmers”. Now I was so, so confused. Why were they way over there? And where were the damned balloons?? I zig zagged my way over there and I finally caught them and started heading in the right direction and then I saw the balloons. I was home free! I just kept swimming and headed for shore.

So what happened Monday? I looked at the course maps one more time. I had looked at these maps many, many, many times. Let me share:

See how the long course map is in the shape of a rectangle and the short course map is in the shape of a triangle? I had somehow gotten it into my head that the short course was just like the long course only they brought the buoys in closer. While I was swimming I was not only blind, I had the wrong shape of the route in my head. I was thinking the swim was long up the first side, straight out from shore, turn 90 degrees and go perpendicular for a short bit and then turn another 90 degrees and head straight back to shore, see the balloons and swim in. But no – that’s not the way it was at all and hence, my swim looked like this:

Triathlon imitates life, once again. Lesson learned – before I take off I need to make sure I know where I’m going and that I can see. Not as amusing or adventuresome as just swimming along bumping into things until I get where I’m trying to go but way more efficient.
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Next up – The Wildflower movie and stories of the rest of the experience.