No friends on the start line: Iron Horse Triathlon

Because I live in such a small state, I'm sensitive to seeing the familiar combination of brown and gold, and the bucking horse with rider logo. Meaning, I get kind of fired up seeing the imprint of my employer extend beyond the state's borders. I'll strike up a conversation with anyone wearing Wyoming colors, because there usually is a cool story with how the person acquired the article of clothing.

Before Saturday's Iron Horse Triathlon in North Platte, Neb., Ryan from Gothenburg, Neb., strolled up and chatted with me. He was wearing a UW sweatshirt while I wore my UW baseball cap. He graduated from UW about the same time I graduated from Syracuse, and was doing his first triathlon that day. He's a swim coach at the high school there, so I knew I'd have my work cut out for me in that respect, and as our heat (the swim took place in a pool, with racers separated into heats based on predicted swim times) approached, we joked about how the swim meet was about to start.

In the days leading up to the event I looked at previous years' results. Based on the splits I saw the thought of winning the event overall entered my mind, though I quickly chased them away. You can't think about stuff like that, even if no one shows up. Facts are facts, though, and I could see myself bringing home some more hardware.

The race director gave a little spiel about how proud she was of anyone showing up that day, which led me to believe the race was more about getting people out and active than lauding the winners, which I think is awesome. They still allow smoking hotel rooms in North Platte, and my dinner the night before was laden with grease despite my best efforts, which tells me all I need to know about the local culture; kudos to Trudy and her crew for putting together not only this race but the other eight events (!!!) in the series.

Participatory the event might be, I was still ready for some action. In my heat each swimmer had his own lane and it looked like the best swimmers were older dudes like me; no high schoolers fresh off state club meets or anything. When the whistle blew I saw him to my right going out really quickly. No problem, there are two more disciplines, I thought. I hit every flip turn, which is not always a given in a pool swim triathlon, not sure why that is. And I felt like I was making pretty good progress, thanks no doubt to my freshly shorn legs; go on and laugh, but when you're a former competitive swimmer going without a wetsuit for any reason, you'll take any advantage you can get.

I hit my watch when I got out of the water, and it read 7:45. For 500 meters that's pretty damned good for someone without much in the way of speed. I caught Ryan in transition and led him out. Literally. For the first 10 miles of the 15-mile ride, we took turns being in front — he stayed within a couple of wheel lengths while I'd retreat pretty far when it was his turn to pull. In triathlon, drafting is illegal as the individual nature of the sport mandates that each competitor do his or her own work. But Ryan seemed like a nice enough guy, and it was his first triathlon, and this race wasn't officiated by USA Triathlon, the governing body for the sport. So there was no chance of anyone getting DQed and certainly need to turn around and tell him to get off my fucking wheel. Or some such. Besides, the one hill on the course broke us up, and I figured I'd put some time into him over the last five miles of the ride.

No such luck. Ryan came into transition a couple of seconds behind me, and with fresher legs thanks to his strategy and my stubborn individuality. I strode out of transition after a 41:50 bike (22 mph?) feeling all right, not great but not bad either. Thanks to doing no runs of less than six miles for the past two weeks I had no idea what kind of speed I'd have, and that's what it would take to get ahead here. I led the first mile-and-a-half before Ryan threw in a surge for which I had no answer at all. He maintained a lead of about 20-25 seconds the rest of the way, and though I thought I saw his stride slacken ahead of me, no amount of surging of my own closed the gap. I increased turnover, lengthened my stride, did both at once, took no more than a splash of water, but to no avail. I saw him after the finish and we thanked each other for the push.

If he wanted to be real good at this sport, he could, but I imagine the three kids who jumped all over him just beyond the finish line — and the wife holding an infant who sicced them on him — probably would object to the amount of training time required. Good on you, mate. Don't ever draft me again.

So I finished in 1:27:11, 27 seconds behind Ryan in the men's 30-39 division, fifth overall. I hit my watch when I started the run and my watch said 35:19 for the five-mile run, but the results say 36:54. Oddly, my watch and the results agree on the overall time. My theory is the timing system added my transitions to my swim and run while giving me an "honest" bike split. I do like the idea of running 7:04 miles, though.

Better still, I competed. There's an ongoing debate in the sport, especially at the iron and half-iron distances, of "competing" vs. "completing." If it weren't for recreational athletes, this sport wouldn't exist, so I feel the sport requires all kinds. On Saturday they had "competitive" and "fitness" divisions within a sprint and a super-sprint (200m/9mi/2mi), but when you think about it, every race has those divisions within it — some people are there to race and to see what their bodies are capable of, others just to get from the start to the finish. Again, it takes all kinds and I've certainly been in both spots (like Ironman Wisconsin 2005, when a fourth of the field bailed on a brutally hot day and I pressed on because DNFing was not an option as long as I was upright).

Saturday, I had a guy who pushed me from the starting whistle (not a gun). For a little less than 90 minutes I wanted more than anything to beat him with my slowtwitch-dominated body, but he had a little burst that I didn't. Still, I'm glad he was there, and I've got the first round if I'm ever in Gothenburg, Neb.