DNF--everyone knows what that is, but DNB? Did Not Bike. How is that possible--how can you just not complete the bike portion oustide of being the leadoff and anchor of a relay team? Read on faitful followers of the smartass, read on indeed...
In what has been a very difficult 2006, there have been some strokes of good luck--three of which have been that each of the Tri for Fun races have lined up reasonably well with my wife's chemotherapy cycles and I've been able to sneak in some sprint triathlons in an otherwise lost season.
The Tri for Fun series is a fantastic, low-pressure set of three triathlons out in Pleasa
nton, CA. On Your Mark Events does a great and the races attract a great crowd of first-timers and non-textbook-triathletes. The races are each a 400 yd swim, 11 mile bike and 3 mile run. With the lack of training I've got in me this season, they are the perfect distance to enable me to participate in a triathlon without dying on course and swering off the sport.
I'd raced the two previous events (in June and July) and had, remarkably, posted better times than any of the previous years I'd done the race (even in my Half Vineman lead up) so perhaps they shortened the bike course or something. Based on these results, I had hoped to again raise the bar by lowering my time on this course to give me some sense of achievement and a possible springboard into the fall and the off-season.
As I've not been participating in triathlons as much this season as other years, my gear is spread out in odd places. I spent the week leading up to the race getting ready so that Friday night, the only thing I had to do was double check my list, make sure the bike was in order and pack up the car for the early morning roll to the East Bay.
That's when the chain of events started. The event, or non-event I suppose you could say, was the missing pfffffffffttttttt puff of compressed air when I realeased the pump head off of my rear tire. At the time I thought it quite odd, but after 15 minutes the tire was holding air and I convinced myself that there was no big deal.
Race morning, up and rolling. Into the chaos that is this "fun" event. 1500 folks, a third of which have never done one of these things--that's a lot of lost souls trying to make sense of the pre-race maddess that makes even the most seasoned triathlete antsy on race morning. Top off the tires again, and no pfffffffffttttt from the old rear wheel. But come on, the thing held air all night, it's fine for today but we might want to hit the LBS and pick up a new tube on the way home. Find a spot to set up my gear (there are woefully few racks here so you either find a tree or a patch of ground to stake out for your transition area), body marked, squeeze my cancer-caring-no-training body into the wetsuit bought when I was in shape and we're off to the races.
With so many first timers in this race, it never starts on time. You have to get there early to even get a space on the ground for your bike and gear, but once you do that, it's a whole lot of waiting around. So once suited up, it was time to spend a the usual 20 minutes floating about in the lake listening to Terry of OYM give his patented speech on the race, etc. (for those of you who're in the area, you, like me, know every line..."we've put 80 pounds of flour on the run course and have a dozen volunteers. But, if you do get lost, run around for a half hour and then come on back." Part of the charm.) Finally it's time to get started.
As there are not "results" or awards for this series, the waves are self-seeded and more a suggestion than a hard rule. I went off in the second wave which loosely is my age group and is right after the gnarly swimmer types who go off first. My swim was as bad normal--more on that at a later date. I beat the hell out of the water for about 8 or so minutes, got in my fill of contact sports for a while and wearily drug myself out of the lake. Unzip, peel, goggles up and cap off--feeling pretty good. Find my bike. Stumble to get dry shoes on wet and dirty feet. Helmet on. Buckle d...buckle do...buckle done. Pick up the bike and...the rear tire is flat.
OK, this had to happen to me sometime. Dozens of races and I've never had a mechanical, not even a flat. No presssure, low key race. Off with the tire, out with the tube, check for debris. New tube in, tire back on, wheel back on. CO2 in place and...it doesn't "grab" the stem. 8 minutes of wrestling with it before I give up and head to the LBS providing support. Try to use a shop/floor pump but don't want to look like the idiot I'm now realizing I am. 5 minutes more and I'm off back into transition. Long story short, I had recently changed saddles on my bike and had not re-installed my XLab system. I grabbed the seatbag off my road bike which had a great tube in it--a great tube if you have box rims--the stem was not long enough for the deep section rims on my tri bike.
As this race is low key with no results, I was afforded--after much cursing and self loathing--an interesting choice. Pack it in and waste all the preparation, the early morning start and commute or mill around until I could blend in with runners that would not pass me like I was standing still. So I leisurely packed up my bike mess, washed off my feet in the lake (while swimmers still exited--I'm sure they thought me crazy) and on with the running shoes, cap and number. Hanging out, drinking some water, fully relaxed. The transition area is amazing when you're not freaking out--great people watching. Then, I'm fed up, I take off for the run.
Run was great, not fast, but great. I was clearly glad to have stuck it out to get my run in early.
It was an odd day for two reasons. First and foremost, you're rarely going to be able to pull of a DNB without feeling you've sacrificed an official finish time--I got to do it today. Second, I never freaked out, never thought about the fact that I was "missing" the race. I certainly wanted to be out riding the course but I just chalked it all up to good timing--if I'm going to take a mechanical it might as well be this season and it might as well be in a Tri for Fun.
After a stop at Starbucks and then the LBS to stock up on long-stem tubes, it was home to MrsJones who was more bummed than I was about the mechanical but thought I was a hero anyway.
Few things make MrsJones happier than a "piece of smartassjones" but tonight was one of those nights she was happier with a piece of different kind. Actually 7 pieces--a seven piece sushi combo.
And right then it hits me--that's the second time I've heard that term, "grown-ass man". Brian Cox (er, excuse me B.Cox), former NFL linebacker with possibly the only mouth on record to rival Porter's, used to use the term in his (thank goodness) short-lived stint as a sports talk host.
