My 1st Triathlon
by Amy E. Lemen

I didn’t know it at the time, but the journey to my first triathlon started when I was 10. It was my first group swim meet at the Ravine Club in New Jersey. I’ll never forget the crowds of people, my family watching, the early hour, the sparkling water — and me freezing when the start gun sounded, standing there motionless while the other little swimmers dived into the water. I can’t remember if I ever got into the water that day. But today, after braving The Danskin — my first triathlon — the feelings of battling, and surviving, the cold water are now with me for good.
After eight weeks of training with a local Team Danskin training group, I finished the Danskin Women’s Triathlon. No, my time wasn’t the winning time (way to go, Sabine!) but I definitely felt like a winner. You see, it wasn’t just a race, though I’ve been competitive all my life. (Yes, I ended up rallying after that first swim meet years ago.) It was much more than that.

Competitive Spirit — And Baby Blues
I’ve raced on the road in at least 100 running events, and on the field in hundreds more soccer games. Each was a competition for me, and I was usually disappointed with what I perceived to be a “bad” finish time or if I didn’t score a goal. You might even say my sense of competition was a little warped. I was out there to have fun, sure, but that competitive spirit took over once on the course or on the field — and fun ended up taking a backseat.
Turn the clock back to 2001, when I discovered I was pregnant with our first child. I embraced yoga and seeking stillness and even headed back to school to finish a master’s degree before the baby was born. That’s me, supermom-in-training. My pregnancy was great; delivery in January 2002 was another story. After an emergency C-section that left me exhausted, and a pregnancy weight gain of 20 extra pounds (chocolate oranges from World Market notwithstanding), I was — for all intents and purposes — out of shape.
But I did have a beautiful baby girl and a supportive husband — neither of whom seemed to notice that my old, chic pants weren’t fitting on my new, pudgy shape. The turning point came around March 2002. Audrey was two months old, and Mommy was ready to shed the flab. I tried to start running again — my surefire way of getting back in shape — but it was tougher than I expected because of my extra weight. My joints hurt and my frustration mounted.

Volunteering – And Fighting Back
A group of friends from my soccer team were doing The Danskin that year, so I thought I’d make that my goal, too, and join them. Alas, I did my first “brick” (run/bike work out) and knew it wasn’t going to happen for me that year. I just wasn’t there yet — not to my satisfaction, anyway.
My sister, Becky, had been training hard for The Danskin, so I decided to volunteer with some friends and support her on race day. We asked to be stationed on “a big hill,” and we were. There’s a point in the course where cyclists come straight down a hill, then make a hard (and I do mean hard) right turn and go uphill — definitely a good place to offer moral support.
I yelled for all the cyclists, including my sister, as she whizzed by in her yellow swimsuit (Go Becky!), several women I used to work with, a few soccer friends and even people I’d seen at the gym but never caught their names. We helped women put chains back on when they hadn’t downshifted after that hard right to make the uphill, then helped them back on their bikes and told them they were doing great.
At the end, we saw the last rider with Sally Edwards, Ironman champ and triathlete inspiration to many. Sally finishes last at every Danskin race — so no one else has to. She doesn’t just swim, bike or run in silence, though. She’s there to inspire, encourage, coax and smile — and that’s just what she was doing when we saw her.
Later, after we’d finished our volunteer duties on the bike course, we headed to the finish line to watch women of all shapes, sizes and colors run to the finish line. Sure, not all of them were runners, but most were running with joy and excitement by the time their feet hit the last mat. I cried for these women, so excited for them and their victories, and I cried for myself, disappointed that I didn’t feel in shape to be out there. Next year, I vowed, I would be.

Time To Get Serious
I’d heard about the Team Danskin program back in March, when I was writing for austin FiT magazine about the many triathlon training programs that had seemed to multiply like bunnies in the Austin area. I was impressed by the contagious enthusiasm of Tracy Nelson, one of the lead coaches and a board member of Austin Triathletes. She was such a happy interview, so I figured the program might be like that, too. And I needed happy.
I’d been working out regularly since last year’s Danskin and had managed to lose more than 20 pounds. No more dark chocolate oranges for Amy — not all those sections, anyway. I’d even started running again; my first race “back” was the Willie 10K with my husband, Greg, and our 6-month-old, Audrey. Since then, I’d done a few more, including the 3M Half-Marathon. I was ready to try a tri.
Our workouts began April 16 — a nice day to start, right after our taxes were mailed. I was looking forward to a good workout to blow off some steam. And though we did work out, the first day was more about heart rates. I joined more than 100 women at a park near the hike-and-bike trail. We filled out paperwork and signed up for the heart rate monitors we’d borrow for the next two weeks. Then it was off to get tested. We ran, stepped and tested ourselves, then recorded our heart rates. Our head coach, Gina Lardon, said we needed a base from which to begin. So true.
I got home that night and dug out the heart rate monitor I’d bought a few years ago for cycling classes. It became my new best friend over the next six weeks. I wore it everywhere — when I worked out, and when I didn’t. I read my numbers in the morning and before I went to bed. Obsessive? Maybe a little. But understanding the way my body works — and how to manage it — was key.

Swim, Bike, Run — All The Time
We got workout plans e-mailed every week: week one had three rest days; by week five, there weren’t any on the schedule. If I wasn’t swimming, I was biking or taking a Spin class. If I wasn’t riding, I was running. And if I wasn’t doing any of that, I was strength training or doing yoga.
And I loved it. I loved working out seven days a week. It was tougher on my life, however, as a mom, as a freelance writer on deadline, as a wife, as a lover, and as a friend and colleague. I didn’t have extra time for anyone but me. And that gets a little selfish when you have other people in your life who depend on you. But it was going to be okay; it was only eight weeks.
I was a member of the Blazin’ Blue Angels. There were so many of us that we divided into color groups for our workouts. We met for TD (Team Danskin) workouts on Wednesday evenings from 6:30 to around 9, and Saturday mornings from 7:30 to 9:30. The first week was all about learning to gauge our intensity level via our heart rates. Sounds like a bunch of mumbo, but it’s not. I’d never really pushed myself in the past. Sure, I’d worked hard, but knowing I had the capacity to work harder was huge. So I did.
The TD workouts were incredibly helpful. We learned swim techniques, including valuable drills that were great at honing breathing, stroke mechanics and overall form for a better swim. My favorite, although the hardest part for me, was swimming first on the left side, then on the right. It forced me to breathe bilaterally, which helped save a lot of much-needed energy.
Week six was our first open-water swim, out at the Decker Lake course. It was an out-and-back, about one fourth the distance of the race. But I was nervous and had trouble catching my breath when we started. What would that mean for race day? We did it again, and I felt a little better, though still nervous. I knew how to swim. I was even a lifeguard in college. Why was I so damned nervous? It was only water, after all.
We biked hills on Southwest Parkway, did time trials at the Veloway and on MoPac near the Wildflower Center and worked on endurance. We also biked the course a few times — that was a blast. It was tough, but not as bad as I imagined — and I remembered when to downshift from my volunteering experience.
Finally, we ran hills as part of the Chuy’s 5K and did several speed workouts on the track at Anderson High School. The speed workouts were another favorite. We’d do fast 400s, then slow down. It was tough to maintain speed for that long, but it felt good to try. We even did our share of brick workouts, but this time, I was ready. We’d ride for six or eight miles, then get off the bike and start running. I discovered that my legs took about eight to 10 minutes to shake that heavy feeling, then I was okay. That was valuable information I would use during the race.
And the TD coaches were inspiring. All had done triathlons before, but not all were elite triathletes. Rather, these were women with a passion for life and fitness and a willingness to teach others. It was a great group from which to learn.
At the end of our training, we did a minitriathlon to help us practice our transitions — from swim to bike and bike to run — and it could not have been more valuable. Ideally, your transitions shouldn’t take longer than two minutes, so what you wear is important. I had a long swim top that was supportive enough to run in, as well as good bike shorts I could pull on over my swim bottoms. I thought I was set.

Race Day
Like many first-timers, I had a mountain bike as my training partner. As tough as it was to coax any speed whatsoever out of those fat knobby tires, I’ve discovered that I really enjoy being on my bike.
But for race day, my wonderful husband, who used to work in a bike shop, switched my fat tires for slicks — smooth tires that would help me go faster. Luckily we did this a week before the race — the back tire blew up twice because of a bad seal — so I had time to take my bike to a shop and get it fixed.
I’d checked my bike in the day before the race and discovered my start time was at 7:30 a.m. I was in Wave 10 of 24. I ate a hearty pasta dinner and went to bed early. The alarm went off at 5 a.m., and I was out the door at 5:30. Everyone had said to get there early to set up my transition area, as there’d be tons of bikes there, so I did.
I found my bike, which was near the front, and laid down my towel. On top were my bike shorts, jersey, sunglasses and helmet. Next to that were my running shoes and socks, a very battered banana and an energy bar. I taped two energy gels to my bike — figured I’d need them. I stripped down to my swimsuit, grabbed my goggles and powder-blue swim cap (the color for my wave) and headed to the swim start.
I waited with my sister and watched as the waves before me headed out into open water. I was very nervous and felt like I could cry right then, but I didn’t. Then, it was my turn. I walked down the boat ramp into the water — it was very slick but there were “swim angels” everywhere to help. I was shocked at how warm the water was — I felt my nervousness melt away. Then I saw Sally Edwards, right there at the start. She told us that she knew we were nervous (everyone is nervous at the swim; if they’re not, they’re lying), but she wanted us to repeat to ourselves: “I am the best swimmer.” This made me smile. Then she smiled, blew the whistle and we were off — a sea of powder-blue swim caps bobbing along.
I breaststroked my way out of the fray, then started swimming freestyle. If I got tired, I returned to the breaststroke, then switched back. And I kept going until I saw my sister waving from the shore. Woo-hoo! I was almost there. The most fearful part of the whole race for me was over! I nearly jumped out of the water — the race could have been over then and it would have been just fine. I laughed the whole way as I ran up the hill to my bike. It wasn’t about competition then — it was about having fun.
I found my bike, dried off a bit, put on my gear and ran for the bike start, hopped on my bike smiling and started the course. About two miles into the 12-mile course, I thought my back tire was a little low, so I went far slower than I wanted to. A few miles later, I found volunteers with tools who took a few minutes to let me know everything was just fine. I sped off, taking on the hills with a vengeance. It was more fun than I’d had in a long time — going uuupppp then dooooowwwnnnn. I was whooping and hollering the whole way — other women probably thought I was nuts, but I was just enjoying the ride.
It was over too soon, and I went to rerack my bike so I could start the run. I transitioned to the run stage in less than two minutes and was off. I’d always thought this part would be my strong point — after all, it was just a 5K. But it was on grass and sticks, and that threw off my pace. Who cared? I was having fun. I stopped to walk so I could talk to a lady about her grandbaby, then I chatted with someone else about the swim course. (It seemed long to both of us.) I would never have done that in any other race or competition — unless I was still running. But this seemed different.
I crossed the finish line in 1:54:01. Winner Sabine Bildstein finished in 1:05:53. She won the entire race, beating more than 2,400 other women. But I won something, too. I learned about myself, what I’m capable of and what I can give. And that’s really a lot better than my 1:54:01 time could possibly show.
The Danskin was the first time I trained for something I’d never done before — and the first time I focused more on having fun than on having the best time. And that was more rewarding to me than any ranking. Will I do another triathlon? Absolutely. I’m looking into buying a road bike. And I’m thinking of tackling the Dilloman this month. And there’s a couples triathlon in August. I think Greg would be an awesome partner.