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5AM. On a weekend. Am I nuts? It’s a good thing I packed most of my stuff last night. Load the bike in the car, make a quick peanut butter sandwich, and head out to Camp Far West. 20 minutes later, I pull into the parking lot, register, and start setting up my transition area. Hang the bike, towel on the ground, gloves and sunglasses inside my bike helmet, bike shoes, running shoes, socks, Power Gel. Put my numbers on – the bike, helmet, and jersey. Get my body markings. 1019. We have a quick athlete’s meeting to go over the rules and course directions.

The wetsuit is on, and I head down to the water. I get in to try to calm down and warm up a little. The water is actually pretty warm, thankfully. I swim out towards the first buoy and nearly get tangled in a bush. Ah, the joys of open water swimming. “30 seconds!” Crud. I flail my way back to the start line and wait with the 20 or so other triathletes. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1…” and the airhorn goes off. I’m sure the campers loved hearing that at 7AM. I make my way out into the water, taking my time because I have no delusions of keeping up with most of the others. I put my face in the water and start swimming. Too fast. Not getting enough air on my breaths. It’s weird swimming in the lake. All you can see is your arms moving through the water, and maybe the rocks or bushes. I try to calm down, but have to pop up to catch my breath. I knew this would happen. It happened the day before, on my first open water swim. The open water and compression of the wetsuit make me panic a little. So I roll over onto my back and start doing the backstroke. At least I can breathe and hyperventilate to my heart’s delight. Brian is in a kayak next to me, telling me to just relax and calm down. I’m not doing any worse than his first open water swim. Just gotta relax. I can do this. I try swimming again, and am able to better, breathing every other stroke instead of every 3rd. This feels a little better, and I’m making more progress. Brian stays with me almost until the turnaround point, where there’s another guy, Tim, in a kayak. Eventually, I finish the swim and make it up to the transition area.

Cap and goggles off. Wetsuit off. Throw the wetsuit over the bar to dry. Bike shoes on. Helmet and sunglasses on. Gloves on. Make my way out of the transition area and off I go. I’m riding along, trying to keep my cadence up as I go up and down the rolling hills. I feel a little sore at first, but it goes away as my muscles warm up. Hmm.. I should probably eat some Power Gel. Wait. Oh CRAP. I left it at the transition. Luckily, this is a “short” ride. Ride, ride, ride. Push, push, push. Not a soul in front of me, or behind me. I keep an eye on my heart rate to make sure I’m not riding too hard, while not going too easy, either. Finally, I make it back to the entrance. The last leg of the bike ride. I look down at my computer and I’m going 23 miles an hour. Up hill! It’s amazing what adrenaline can do.

I hop off my bike and run into the transition area, hang up the bike, take off my helmet, shoes, and gloves. As I put on my running shoes, the timekeeper tells me I’ve made up some time on the bike. Cool. Throw the Power Gels in my pocket. Eat one as I take off on the run, and grab a Gu packet from a woman holding one out for me. Off down the running trail I go. I check my heart rate and notice it’s a little high so I slow down a bit. Down a hill. Up a hill. Down a hill. Ah, a port-a-potty. I make a quick pit stop and I’m once again on my way. I see some other competitors coming back along the out-and-back portion of the run. Maybe I’m not that far behind. I keep plodding along. Not a whole lot to say about the run, other than it was hot and sunny. Thankfully there were two water stations and we passed each one twice.

Oh yeah – note to self for the run – BodyGlide. Armpits.

And after 3 hours 25 minutes, and 55 seconds, I had finished my first Olympic Distance Triathlon. 1.5km swim, 40km bike, and 10km run.

5 AM. Another early morning. This is the weekend, right? Fred, Lisa, and I get ready, head down to the start of the ride to pick up our packets. I check my tires, and – surprise – the rear tire is low. And the stem is broken. I try to pump it up anyway. I really don’t feel like changing a flat right now. Nope. Not gonna work. So I change the flat, and make my way up to pick up my ride packet – t-shirt, map, other swag. Did I mention it’s cold and windy? Anyway, as luck would have it, I run in to Kyle and Ryan. Fred and Lisa are probably long gone by this time. The three of us get our stuff, drop it off at our cars, and are ready to head out. Wait. Kyle’s having problems with the cleats on his shoes. “Anyone have a philip’s screwdriver?”. Luckily, I have one in my car. Alright, ready to go? Yeah. ...Wait. Now the other shoe is having problems. Argh.

Finally, we’re on our way. Again, starting off easy to warm up the legs. It also helps that it’s slightly downhill. We make the turn North on Hwy 89, and are greeted by a headwind. We begin the climb up to Emerald Bay and stop to take off our shells and snap a couple photos. Climb, climb, climb. What’s this? An ambulance passes us, and a short time later, a fire engine too. We later find out that someone wiped out on one of the hills. I pause near the top of the climb to take a couple more photos before I shoot down the hill to the Vikingsholm rest stop. Luckily this spot is pretty well sheltered from the wind. Wheee! I hit about 42 mph, passing people, hitting the turns just right. I think I even crossed into the other lane a couple times because people were riding slow out in the middle of the lane. I stop at Vikingsholm and wait for Ryan and Kyle, and do the usual rest stop routine. Food, drink, pee. Of course this one is a little different. This is also my breakfast. And my genius self left my gatorade bottles in the fridge back at the condo. Thank goodness they gave us water bottles with our ride swag. I fill that up with gatorade before I leave.

Back on the road and up to D.L. Bliss State Park, and then rocketing downhill once again. There’s a woman with a bullhorn warning us that we’re coming up to the spot where an accident occurred earlier. Okay. I’ll be careful, but I still rocket down the hill. And then I see how the accident may have happened. I’m coming down, and catch a crosswind gust… not a great feeling when you’re going 40+mph. It pushes me sideways a bit, but I manage to keep the rubber on the bottom.

I pass a Team in Training rider from Illinois and chat with her a bit as we ride to the Homewood rest stop. Apparently there were 120 riders from Chicago who raised $720,000. Team in Training raised a total of $7,000,000 across the country from this ride. All along the route there are people along the sides of the road cheering on all the Team in Training riders, and, all the riders, actually. I meet up with Kyle and Ryan again at the Homewood rest stop, grab some food, and we make our way back out. As we approach Tahoe City, things get a little slow and nerve-racking. The riders are all single-file, going slow. There are cars to our left, going slow (we’re approaching the point where the 72-mile and 100-mile routes diverge. Being the genius that I am, I try passing some people, nearly lose my shoulder to a rear-view mirror, and decide to get back in line. I see Kyle pulled off to the side, so Ryan and I pull over. The two of them are going for the full century. Being a mere mortal (and having ridden 65 or so the previous day), I stick with the shorter course.

I continue straight up to Tahoe City and hang a right. It’s mostly a gentle climb with a couple short descents to King’s Beach, where we have a lunch rest stop. It’s still breezy and chilly, so I grab some food, eat, pee, take in the view for a bit, and get back on the road. About a mile or two up the road, I see someone pulled over in a driveway, working on her bike. I ask if she’s got what she needs, and she says she could use some help. Being a professional tire-changer now, I help her get her tire back on correctly and filled up. Back on my merry way up the hill. A few minutes later, she catches me, thanks me again, and cruises on up the hill. 30 seconds later, I shift to a lower gear and my chain drops off. Crap. I get the chain back on and continue spinning up the hill.

The climb to Spooner Junction is a very long, gradual climb. I pause to scarf down a caffeinated power gel, and find myself riding in a line of 3 cute women. I tell them I’m just going to let them pull me up the hill. “That’s fine, you’re pushing us up the hill!”. Sure. But I have a better view. :-)

Ah. Spooner Junction, mile 60. I thank the women I was riding with as they continue on past the rest stop. I can finally wash the chain grease off my hands. And eat. I see flat-tire girl is here too. The bike mechanic is working on her bike – I guess she had a cracked tire. Good thing she’s getting it fixed before the descent. I get back out and start down the hill. Lisa warned me about this part. She said it was windy last year, and holy cow, was it windy now. Headwinds and crosswinds. I should’ve been able to go 30 or 35 mph down this hill without even trying, but my speedometer was only reading about 25. 25mph ground speed, probably close to 45 air speed.

Continuing down the hill and back towards State Line, I pass a few people, and then another woman passes me. So I decide to play some catch-up, pass her, and continue cruising. She passes me a few minutes later and I play catch-up some more as get closer to the finish. Just as we make the final turn, I pull up next to her and we cross the finish line together. There were dozens of people standing there, cheering as we roll in.

I park my bike and walk around a bit. I find a massage booth. A dollar a minute “donation”. I’m in. The woman works on my shoulders and upper back for ten minutes, digging in with the points on her elbows to loosen all the knots. It’s magical. Don’t get me wrong – it hurts, but it feels so good to feel the knots just melt away. Back at the condo, I find my gatorade, re-heat last night’s spaghetti and garlic bread, and go to town. After showering, it’s time for an afternoon of sitting, eating, rehydrating, and napping.

yawn 4 AM. Time to get my butt out of bed, throw on my cycling clothes and make my way out to Plymouth. On the road at 4:30. In Plymouth by 5:30. Find Dave and Mo. Pick up my registration packet, eat some food, and wait for Jim.

Dave and Mo take off on the metric century at 6 AM with Dave’s brother-in-law. I stick around and wait for Jim, who gets there right when we planned on meeting up: 6:30. We’re on the road by 7 AM. It’s a little chilly, but sunny. The first few miles are a gentle downhill with some small rolling hills, so we take our time and spin as we warm up our legs. The hills get a little bigger as we make our way to Ione, but still not too hard.

Ione – the first rest stop. I run into a couple fellow Tri-Sierra riders, chat for a bit, hit the port-a-potty, and grab some food. They had fruit, fuit bars, cookies, soda. Pretty well-stocked. The sheer number of bikes here is amazing. I wish I’d taken a picture. Every inch of fencing had a bike on it, and the entire lot was strewn with bicycles. This would be a recurring theme for the rest of the weekend.

We leave Ione and start making our way to Sutter Creek. There’s a pretty nice climb on the way, at the top of which was a beautiful view of the foothills and the descent. At the bottom of the descent I meet back up with Jim and we ride through Sutter Creek and start the climb up to Volcano. The road here follows a creek, so it’s pretty shaded and cool. As we climb, the creek (of course) is further and further down, and the view is incredible. Jim continues to spin his way up the hill, but I stay at my own comfortable pace. At one point, I hear a woman behind me, “Thanks for pulling me up the hill. My husband left me behind.” She stays on my rear wheel until I realize I have a flat. Great. So I stop. She nearly runs me over, apologizes, and continues on her way. I take off my rear wheel and get to work. About every third person who passes by asks if I have what I need. “Yep. I got it.” Okay. new tube is in, tire is back on, let’s start pumping. Alright. Good to go. Wait. What’s this? Did I snap the stem off the valve? Crap. Well there’s enough air in the tire. I’ll survive. I get back on the bike, and what do you know?

A quarter mile later I get to the Volcano rest stop. Ah well. Once again, I grab some food, hit the port-a-potty, and revel in the sheer number of people and cycles here. This time, they have sandwiches, pretzels, and potatoes in addition to fruit and cookies. Now it’s time for the big hill – Ram’s Horn Grade. It’s just one long, steady climb. There’s a water stop part way up, and motivational signs all along the way. I saw some kids sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the road, watching the riders go by. One kid, who looked all of about 12, was holding a poster saying “Show me boobies”. sigh I remember being that way… wait… I still am! Finally! The top of Ram’s Horn. Now it’s mostly downhill all the way to Fiddletown. There are a few short, rolling, climbs, but it’s mostly a windy descent. I cruise down, enjoying the turns and the speed.

Fiddletown – my last rest stop. This is where the century and double-metric century riders split off, and we mere mortals continue on back to Plymouth. More food. More gatorade. Five or so minutes later, I’m back on my bike and on my way back to Plymouth. Nothing too exciting along the way, other than more gorgeous views and a ride through downtown Plymouth.