A Runner's Guide to Triathlons - by Bill PenningtonWith the Jacksonville Sprint Triathlon Series coming again to our island June 19, July 17 and Aug. 7, it got me thinking about triathlons and running events.
Let's just put aside the fact that sprint triathlons are challenging endurance competitions that test one’s ability in three sports. I’m convinced that it's the pre-race rituals that give them an interesting taste for a runner’s palate.
A running event is a Hershey bar. Tear the wrapper off, and go at it. It's simple and straightforward. A triathlon's a hot-fudge sundae. You’ve got the basics, but it also features dabs of this-and-that, and a couple of nutty twists.
• Your triathlon experience starts with registration. As in running events, competitors are divided into age groups and genders. But there are also special "tire divisions" of the triathlons. One is fat tire, for riders without a fancy road racing bike. And for triathletes who are doughnut (or spare tire) challenged, there are special divisions called Athena and Clydesdale. They are reserved for women who weigh 150+, and men over 200 pounds. Yep, a triathlon’s the one place where women strain to put on those extra three pounds to get the scales to tip at 150. As for the fat tire division, think of it as running the Gate River Run in blue jeans and docksiders.
• The pre-race triathlon pageantry continues on race morning when you stuff your bike into your car, along with changes of outfits and shoes for transitioning from swimming to biking to running. And, don't forget your slick racing gloves. You’ve gotta sport cool racing gloves for the 10-mile bike ride.
• When you arrive at the tri site, the first thing you'll notice (at least I do) is that you've got women walking around in bikinis, skin-hugging racing swim suits, and Spandex-clinging biker shorts… take away the registration signs and bikes, it's South Beach.
• Then you have the triathlon rules, such as signs that announce “Athletes Only” in the transition area. No caddies allowed, players only. There are more signs that show how your bike must be positioned in the transition area, information on how to neatly fold your transition outfit, water bucket and towel behind your bike.
Any violation will be dealt with accordingly.
“We have ways of dealing with your types,” the guard’s – huh – official’s eyes announce with body-piercing steely glares as you walk your wheeled vehicle to an open spot. Additional minutes will be added to your time for any rules transgression.
And these guys are serious – eyeballing your bike like a suspicious duffle bag in an airport security line.
In one event last summer, I had a missing rubber plug at the end of my right handlebar. As the official slammed a new one into the vacant hole he announced with authority, “That could have been grounds for disqualification.” Boy, I hope my Nike water bottle is regulation, I mumbled sarcastically. Kidding aside, I should have thanked him for the 25-cent wedge. It was the first upgrade in 15 years to my department store Schwinn mountain bike.
• Don't forget your driver's license or ID on the day-of-race. Just announcing your name to a race official to get your registration bag/race number is not enough. To be an official triathlon entrant, you must flash a picture ID or an official triathlete card. No ID, no service. It’s a college bar minus the beer.
The ID rule seems strange to me. I can’t imagine impersonating someone for the purpose of swimming, biking and running for a couple of hours. A free beer bash, all-you-can-eat buffet, yeah, maybe you might try to slip in under a alias, but a triathlon, I don’t think so.
• The next step is another rite of passage for triathletes – the line-up for the war paint, a favorite ritual of mine.
Each racer stands at attention while an official stencils your race number to your thigh and forearm. You can almost hear Johnny Rivers crooning in the background, ‘Giving you a number and taking away your name… secret agent man.’
Actually, the effect is like the swath of black goo under an NFL linebacker’s eyes, Braveheart’s pre-battle facial paint, or a street tough getting his first tattoo. The body number announces that you have arrived, you’re an official triathlete, and you’re going into battle today. Grunts, growls, and/or strong throat clearing “huh” seem instinctually appropriate at this point.
• Once pre-race is completed, and you line up for the 1/4-mile ocean swim, the tone is similar to a running event. You look around, size up your competition, listen to some pre-race instructions.
And then go at it.
