#Dadblog: I did it!

Mike Caterini

#Dadblog: I did it!

I’ve just left the beach running and am a couple minutes into my swim on this Father’s Day Triathlon. Thrashing away in a semi-chaotic mass of age 50+ swimmers wearing green bathing caps, I’m struggling to get ahead of the pack and reach the first turn at the orange buoy about 300 meters dead ahead. I sense that a lot of swimmers are ahead of me and a few are just behind. Stroke, stroke, breathe, exhale and repeat. Relax.

I follow the feet of the guy just in front of me, hoping that he’s swimming straight to the buoy. Then, I settle into a steady rhythm, then WHAM! I get kicked in the head. Wisely I back off, lift my head every five or so strokes and sight the buoy. After what seems like an eternity, I take the first turn tightly. After about another 150 m I’m around the second buoy and into the home stretch heading straight to shore.

I’m swimming steadily at about the same speed as the swimmers around me. Some are doing the breast stroke, others are backstroking and a few have stopped and are treading water. I stay calm and pick up the pace, feeling relaxed and relieved that I haven’t cramped, panicked or drowned.

The Transition from Water to Wheels

After about 20 minutes from the start I emerge from the water and hit the beach, strip off the top of my wet suit and slowly wobble up the hill to the first transition. My son Anthony and daughter Jessica are running (actually brisk walking) beside me encouraging me to pick up the pace. I try my hardest, but the legs just won’t go. I amble over to the bike rack, plop myself on the ground, peel off my wet suit, throw on my shirt, helmet and shoes, grab my gloves and trot my bike to the bike start line after what I thought was a good transition. But now there is a problem. My gloves are inside-out! After what seemed like forever I put my gloves on and was off pedaling furiously into a moderate head wind.

In the Pack

I’m near the back of the pack, but I feel that I can make up time on the bike. I start passing riders. I dig up the hills, pedal steadily on the flats in the big gear, coast to just above the bottom of the hills then accelerate again. After the bike turn-around at 9.5 km I’ve passed over 20 people and nobody has yet to pass me. I’m not that tired and feel that I’m smoking the course. Very encouraging indeed, until I hear someone yell from behind “ON YOUR LEFT! ON YOUR LEFT!” Whoosh! A much skinnier greybeard on a nicer bike blasts by me.

I imagine a future version of myself and wish him well as I press on towards the finish. In the distance I see a police officer and cruiser positioned at the intersection for the last turn before the home stretch. About a hundred meters before the turn a tough 65 year old in perfect aerodynamic form is passing me on what must be a $10,000 bike. I say “nice wheels”, but he doesn’t flinch, pedals on and blows straight through the intersection at 30 plus kph without slowing down and turning. The cop yells frantically “SIR! SIR!”, but he disappears down the road never to be seen again as he bikes off course.

I make it to the bike finish line having passed 41 riders while only once having been passed. I dismount, rack my bike, suck back some sweet gel goop, guzzle electrolyte mix and fumble with my shoe laces. After a few minutes I’m off to the races with only 5 km to go.

Time To Run

Did I say that I was feeling not that tired and smoking the course? Well I spoke too soon. As I slowly struggle up the first hill my legs feel like two lead weights. The heat is blistering, my head is pounding and the course is now smoking me. A volunteer mercifully hoses me down as I limp into the first watering station. I down a couple cups of Gatorade and push on. Four km still to go and I’m already wearing the mask of pain. Not another hill! Doubt begins to creep in. Will my finishing time suck? Will I even finish? Will I get heat stroke? Suddenly behind me a calm voice says “Come on Michael. You can do it”. Who is this person? Then to my right emerges a ramrod straight gentleman running with perfect form.

This fellow seems to be a bit older than me but is hardly breathing. As he passes me I introduce myself and express my gratitude for his encouragement and my admiration of his fitness. Smiling, he tells me his name is Charlie and will be 80 next month! At that instant time seemed to stop, all pain and doubt disappeared and I gazed in wonder at this amazing human being who is likely fitter than 98% of the adult male population.

Charlie pulled ahead of me and promised to talk with me after the race. I forged ahead with new found purpose. At least 20 people passed me before I lost count but I kept moving. About 30 m from the finish line I heard cheers erupt for Charlie as he crossed the finish line. A few seconds later I stumbled over the finish line in a time 1:47:42 and collapsed under the shade of a tree.

Finishing With A Smile

My wife Judy promptly snapped a few pictures with me and the kids. I managed to smile as best I could. The kids look both happy and relieved that I’m still standing. My time was slower than anticipated but I faced some adversity and made a few mistakes that I will fix the next time. Afterwards I got a picture with Charlie wearing the big gold medal he won for finishing first in his age class. Charlie started doing triathlons at age 62 and plans on competing in five triathlons this year, then follow up with the world championships in Rotterdam. He has my vote for athlete of the year.

Next Time

I plan to compete again in July and August with the aim to beat today’s time and strive for a 1:40 finish. If I don’t make it, I’ll still persevere. I’ll discuss lessons learned and avenues for improvement in the next dadblog. After all, if I’m persistent, train regularly, eat right and luck is on my side, in 25 years I may become as accomplished as Charlie.

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