Well, I did it. I survived an Olympic-length triathlon. It wasn’t pretty, I didn’t feel great and there was an awkward moment when race officials thought I was a man, but on balance, I’m proud of my effort. Here are the highlights.
I went into to this challenge hoping to finish with a respectable time and in a respectable manner, meaning under three hours and free of vomit. I ended up one minute over my goal, but considering I had to run off course to a port-a-let after the bike portion, I’m counting my time as a win. And though toward the end I began to overheat and wobble a bit, I kept my stomach contents intact. Praise be.
What I didn’t realize until I was in my car heading home was that my supposedly waterproof black eye makeup (which I am never without in public except for Meijer, where I don’t give a poop) had completely smeared across most of the right side of my face, probably while on the swim leg, the first of the three parts. I’d basically been channeling Kiss for the entire morning, including the awards ceremony. I definitely did not make it look good.
Speaking of awards, out of two people in my age group, I placed second! For men. “Daniel Wilson? Is Daniel still here?” Umm, they fixed the mistake eventually, but not before the female winners were announced. So, several clearly confused ladies were called back up to exchange their plaques for lower-placed ones since I, or rather Gene Simmons, had actually beaten a few racers. Can y’all say un-comfortable?
Not ideal, but I survived.