You see, in short - this was the race director:
And this was Toronto:
But I'm sure you begrudgingly clicked on this page because you want the full story so let's start at the beginning.
My hyperactive mother met my borderline-mullet-haired father in September of 1981 at a Lutheran boarding school in Camrose, Alberta.
Wait a second you dingus, when I said beginning I meant beginning of my adventure time in Toronto, no one cares about how I came to exist!
Oh, well that's a pity because the story of how I came to exist is far more interesting than Toronto. But I see your point. Okay, Toronto - here goes!
On Thursday, July 18th at approximately 2:55pm at gate 54...
Good lord crazy human! Is this your first day on the job? SUMMARIZE! No one has time for every little detail, this ain't no Nathaniel Hawthorne novel!
Oh dear. Okay, I'll start at the beginning and try to keep things in summary form.
This year, no doubt due to someone calling a favor in for their uncle's step-brother's niece's sister-in-law's ex-husband's wife's boyfriend's daughter, the TTF was granted the privilege to host Nationals on July 21st so on July 18th I boarded a horizontal rocket ship with wings owned by West Jet and departed for the land of crack-smoking mayors.
The flight was lovely for several reasons.
1) West Jet charges $40.00 less to fly with a bike than Air Canada (round trip)
2) The flight attendants are goofs. One danced while doing the safety demonstration and another kept sneaking me extra food because she thought I looked hungry while she simultaneously told me how amazing Las Vegas was because she got designer shoes at only $12.50 per foot!
3) I had an aisle seat next to two old ladies whose introduction to me included the fact that they had just put on their Depends and wouldn't be bothering me to use the bathroom - they then proceeded to compliment me the whole flight on how fit I look and how proud my parents must be of me
4) No one brought snakes on the plane
Upon landing, it was 9pm, and still 32 degrees and 40 degrees with the humidity. It was as if a football team of elephants had charged me brandishing wet towels while forcing me into a sauna. Suffice to say, I discovered quickly upon landing that I had sweat pores in body parts I didn't even know existed. Also, you can sweat through pants apparently.
Most of my time in Toronto leading up to the race was spent trying to familiarize ourselves with the course, doing some pre-race activity, sleeping, and eating as much as possible. Especially cinnamon buns. My team-mate and I were far too close to a Cinnabon. It was bad news. We destroyed those things. I think I spent more money on cinnamon buns than I did on regular food. It was like biting into divine slices of heaven seasoned with sunbeams while getting a lap dance from Megan Fox. Yum!
We also made silly faces.
And were far too excited when entering a room with air conditioning.
I grew up in the country. I like wide open spaces, solitude, and nature all around me.
Toronto is none of those things.
Its big, its wall-to-wall concrete with very little of anything natural, everything is crowded, and the traffic is more grid-locked than the American congress. To say I was uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century. I was home sick for Edmonton within hours of landing. Homesick! For Edmonton! The land locked city on the Canadian Prairies! It was the first time in my life I've actually missed my home city while away. After visiting Toronto, I definitely appreciate my city more - namely the fact it boasts the largest in-city nature reserve in North America.
An accurate description of how I felt in Toronto would be if you imagined yourself covered in ants, confined to a concrete elevator full of people, and one of them is constantly farting. I was almost going crazy by race day.
Okay, now prepare yourself for an uncharacteristic burst of blunt honesty:
It was in the race briefing that I realized the festival organizers had either never hosted a major triathlon before, were simply in it to make money, or were being run by a pack of incompetent zebras that kept getting distracted by shiny objects. To give them the benefit of the doubt, I'm going with the latter.
The zebras decided it was absolutely brilliant to do the swim in a marina while weaving around boats. This lead to a very windy swim course - which they likely wanted in order to avoid all the alligators they were assuming would be lurking in the water due to their experience on the African plains. They also decided it was a simply fantastic idea to send the Junior Elite men out at 9:25am, the Junior Elite girls at 9:30am, the Para-Triathletes at 9:32am, and my wave at 9:36am. Despite raising my concerns on this before the race, the zebras failed to understand that Junior Elites are supposed to have a closed course and that Age Groupers would be swimming right over some of the para-triathletes and biking past Junior Elite draft packs.
After a delightful swim course that I am sure resulted in many hoof-high-fives for their brilliance, the striped creatures then decided to throw away the rule book and have a bike course where draft packs were mixed into non-drafting races. However, they decided this wasn't nearly dangerous enough - so for part of the course they made two way bike traffic on a side walk. Yes, you heard correctly - draft packs were incoming on a SIDEWALK while athletes were outgoing on the same sidewalk. How we all survived is beyond me. Someone needs a spanking. Bad zebras.
Okay, the rant of blunt honesty is over. Now time to tell the story of how I swam, biked, and ran my way to secure a spot on Team Canada Age Group Worlds team for the third year in a row.
I decided to swim the swim as it is generally much faster than floating. The sharp turns in the course, including the nearly 180 degree turn 50 meters into the swim, resulted in a large pack of people forced into a small space before anyone had a chance to fan out. This meant a lot of people got shoved under water around the buoys - including myself. I came to a dead stop several times, and had a depressingly slow swim. Fortunately for me, it was the worst part of the race and things were only going to get better.
In transition I removed the wetsuit, because while I have biked in a wetsuit before, its generally not recommended.
With my bike in hand and helmet on head (safety first, kidlets!) I left transition trying desperately to make up the ground I'd lost in the swim.
The bike course, aside from the dangerous stretches I've already ranted about, was decent - except for this killer head wind. It was a simply out-and-back style of race, so the entire way out I had to bike into what felt like an enraged heard of angry wind rhinos. It wore me down significantly.
Then this amazing thing happened, I reached the turn-around and suddenly I was flying! I was barely pedaling and holding 50km/hr on the flat stretches and nearly 60km/hr on the slight down hills. The wind had gone from angry rhinos to a magical rocket of pure awesome strapped to the back side of my bike. It was exhilarating!
Unfortunately all good things come to an end, and the exhilarating rocket of awesome that was my tail wind soon led me back to transition and it was time for the run.
Now runs in triathlons hurt. For anyone who has ever done a running race, you will know the burn and pain of the last km or two. Your legs hurt, you're full of lactic acid, and you aren't entirely sure if you can finish the race because suddenly its like you're hauling two sacks of bricks across the ground. In a triathlon, you feel that way as soon as you step off the bike - and it never gets better. The whole run is fighting through that pain most people equate to the last stretch of a cross country running race. Its taken me a long time to tolerate that pain, and this is the first race where I think I am starting to succeed. I never slowed down, I picked up speed during the run. I had the 12th fastest run out of the 39 people in my age group - and normally I am mid-pack at best. I also made up ground running and passed several people - neither of which I have ever done during a race before. The highlight of my race in Toronto was that run.
Finally, the finish chute appeared. Some bloke in pink was chasing me down and trying to pass me, and went into a sprint.
I was like "Oh no you don't!" and took off with every ounce of speed I had left and put 50m on him in the last 400m of the race.
One of the best things about racing in Toronto was seeing my Uncle and Cousin whom I have not seen since my age was still in the single digits. It was great to see old faces, catch up, and have a little cheering section. I do feel sorry for not enjoying their home city more - but we all have different places we like to call home.
Before I knew it I was back on a West Jet flight to my home sweet home, spending the entire flight next to a lady so obsessed with the Toronto Blue Jays she wore Blue Jays everything, only watched and talked baseball, and loudly chewed gum.
And that, my friends, was my race experience in Toronto.
PS - In all seriousness, this race is an okay one for Age Groupers but set up poorly for Junior Elites. It shouldn't be granted Nationals as a result, but if you just want to do a triathlon in downtown Toronto you probably won't mind it.
Cheers!
Bry-Bry
Ahhhh one of your best posts yet!
ReplyDeleteSo stoked to hear you made Team Canada AGAIN!
Moving from XC to Tris CLEARLY worked out for you - well done and well deserved!