Humbly submitted by Brian Guillen following the Issaquah Triathlon: 5/30/2009As I sit here reading a Triathlete Magazine article entitled, “Overcoming Mental Obstacles in Training” I cannot help but feel cheated. So I turn the page with my bandaged hands, wincing in pain as I toss the magazine to the floor. Over the years, I have read many articles about overcoming nearly every obstacle, both physical and mental, facing the triathlete. But never have I come across an ounce of helpful advice about dodging the dreaded Safety Cone on the race course.
Yesterday morning, I pulled on my wetsuit and waded knee deep into the lake and waited for the horn to sound announcing the start of the Issaquah triathlon. I entered the race with the sole goal of beating John Curley for the chance to win a donation to the charity of my choice. Believe me! I had no other aspirations other than surviving the race in full health so I could resume my training for later-season races.
But the gun sounded and suddenly I felt I had to do everything within my power to be the first one to the finish line. The short quarter-mile swim seemed to be over before it began and I found myself starting the bike leg in fifth position. After a few miles into the 15-mile bike course I passed two people and it appeared that I was beginning to pull back leaders. The legs felt good and I was settling into a nice, comfortable groove. At a hill at mile 6, I opened it up a little and quickly ascended at which point I noticed I was still gaining on the leaders. I crested the hill and put my head down to get the full benefit of aerodynamics as I descended the hill at 30 mph. I was in a full aero tuck, looking at the white line upon which I followed closely. I looked up to see further up the road and suddenly noticed a row of orange safety cones lined up on the white line immediately in front of me! Having no time to react, I waited for the inevitable to unfold.
There are a few occasions that occur in a man’s life which enable him to defy the very laws of time itself. This peculiar phenomenon of which I speak manifests itself in the apparent near-stopping of time so as to allow for full and complete absorption of all the sensory information that is so rapidly being presented to his brain. This can make a 5-second event from another’s perspective seem like hours to his. For a man, this phenomenon is typically experienced either during sexual intercourse or in those instances where he has nearly kissed death. I was unfortunately experiencing the latter.
I hit the first cone. The bike bounced to the left but kept me on track for the rest. I hit the second and third cones. The bike came out from under me and I was suddenly airborne. I landed hands-first and began the last leg of “ The Brian Guillen: Swim-Bike-Skid-On-My-Arse Triathlon.” And, oh, did I skid! At one point during the skid I thought I was nearly done, but I just got tossed over to the other side of my body and kept going still surprised by my ground speed. I came to a stop roughly 15-20 yards later and remained on my back doing mental diagnostics of the damage. I crawled over to the ditch to get off the course while the race volunteer called for an ambulance.
Luckily, I was out of the hospital in two hours with only bandages around the appendages. So I walked back over to the triathlon and came across John Curley. I showed him my wounds and joked with him that this mess was all his fault. Very kindly, he expressed his condolences and handed me a “I beat John Curley” shirt. Very nice gentleman, that man is. But one thing is for certain: it’s harder than you think beating John Curley!
Saving the best and most important news for last: the bike is perfectly fine! In fact, in looking at the bike you wouldn’t believe I crashed. It appears to have slid entirely on the non-drive train side, preserving the derailleurs. Unfathomable!
Yesterday morning, I pulled on my wetsuit and waded knee deep into the lake and waited for the horn to sound announcing the start of the Issaquah triathlon. I entered the race with the sole goal of beating John Curley for the chance to win a donation to the charity of my choice. Believe me! I had no other aspirations other than surviving the race in full health so I could resume my training for later-season races.
But the gun sounded and suddenly I felt I had to do everything within my power to be the first one to the finish line. The short quarter-mile swim seemed to be over before it began and I found myself starting the bike leg in fifth position. After a few miles into the 15-mile bike course I passed two people and it appeared that I was beginning to pull back leaders. The legs felt good and I was settling into a nice, comfortable groove. At a hill at mile 6, I opened it up a little and quickly ascended at which point I noticed I was still gaining on the leaders. I crested the hill and put my head down to get the full benefit of aerodynamics as I descended the hill at 30 mph. I was in a full aero tuck, looking at the white line upon which I followed closely. I looked up to see further up the road and suddenly noticed a row of orange safety cones lined up on the white line immediately in front of me! Having no time to react, I waited for the inevitable to unfold.
There are a few occasions that occur in a man’s life which enable him to defy the very laws of time itself. This peculiar phenomenon of which I speak manifests itself in the apparent near-stopping of time so as to allow for full and complete absorption of all the sensory information that is so rapidly being presented to his brain. This can make a 5-second event from another’s perspective seem like hours to his. For a man, this phenomenon is typically experienced either during sexual intercourse or in those instances where he has nearly kissed death. I was unfortunately experiencing the latter.
I hit the first cone. The bike bounced to the left but kept me on track for the rest. I hit the second and third cones. The bike came out from under me and I was suddenly airborne. I landed hands-first and began the last leg of “ The Brian Guillen: Swim-Bike-Skid-On-My-Arse Triathlon.” And, oh, did I skid! At one point during the skid I thought I was nearly done, but I just got tossed over to the other side of my body and kept going still surprised by my ground speed. I came to a stop roughly 15-20 yards later and remained on my back doing mental diagnostics of the damage. I crawled over to the ditch to get off the course while the race volunteer called for an ambulance.
Luckily, I was out of the hospital in two hours with only bandages around the appendages. So I walked back over to the triathlon and came across John Curley. I showed him my wounds and joked with him that this mess was all his fault. Very kindly, he expressed his condolences and handed me a “I beat John Curley” shirt. Very nice gentleman, that man is. But one thing is for certain: it’s harder than you think beating John Curley!Saving the best and most important news for last: the bike is perfectly fine! In fact, in looking at the bike you wouldn’t believe I crashed. It appears to have slid entirely on the non-drive train side, preserving the derailleurs. Unfathomable!
No comments:
Post a Comment