I didn’t even complete the event, so I’ll call it my first attempt. However, I think it’s worthy to write about my first experience in the tri world. It was the 2000 Yuba Triathlon and for me it was a total flop. My previous tri experience included watching the coverage of the 1999 Ironman World Championships on the television. Triathlon looked so easy from the comfort of my couch.

The biggest challenge I faced at the Yuba Triathlon was the swim. Unfortunately this hadn’t occurred to me until about 10 minutes before the race, when my feet were submerged in the frigid water of Yuba Lake. I had taken an introductory swimming course at the community college the semester prior to the race. This kept me swimming all winter long. I remember telling my swim instructor, Karen, of my objective to swim 1,500 meters in the open water. She had a look of concern in her eyes, but my optimistic nature made it easy to brush the stare aside.

Back to standing on the lake shore – I anxiously waited for the race to start with a few hundred other athletes. “What have I gotten myself into?” was the first thought that crossed my mind. My strategy changed from “swimming all out” to finishing. I was suddenly brought out of the clouds of race domination and began to fear the lake that lay before me.

When the gun finally went off and the athletes began the swim, I hesitantly walked my way into the water. Walking is much safer then jumping in, especially for a rookie like me. This would allow me to acclimatize myself to the chill and let me consider the task ahead. Eventually the bottom of the lake dropped from beneath me and I was forced to begin swimming.

I knew I was in trouble as soon as my face hit the water. My heart rate was going nuts and claustrophobia began to set in. Not once did I ever consider that I wouldn’t be able to see anything in front of me. Yuba Lake is murky and carries the winter chill into the month of May. Feeling the confinement of the lake was not something I expected. And then the water temperature – it didn’t cross my mind until I was swimming. I knew I had to do something differently to keep myself moving forward.

In a panicked state I flipped onto my back, hoping that I could calm down and eventually begin another attempt at freestyle. Breathing shouldn’t be a problem when on your back. You just float and suck in the air generously. Even floating on my back wasn’t that easy. The sky began to swirl above me. I felt like I had just gotten off of the Centennial Screamer at Lagoon. Round and round went the sky as I bobbed up and down in the water. This was not an amusement park ride and only made the situation worse.

I slowly crept towards a young lifeguard who was floating around on a surfboard, looking out for any suffering swimmers (me). We crossed paths and he let me hold onto his surfboard for a few minutes where I thought the situation through. Life or death? Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? This is how I felt in the moment, though. Eventually I decided I would call it quits. This is not a scenario I expected and my ego instantly felt the effects. Shame, stupidity, ignorance – you name it and I felt it. The lifeguard invited me up onto his board and I watched the swim portion with the best seat in the house. This was a good thing. I was able to see the different levels of swimmers, a good distraction from the pain I felt.

The toughest part of the day was when my feet hit land again. How could I face my family and friends? I had hyped up the triathlon to everyone I knew all winter long. It’s just a race, I know, but to find reasoning in the moment is awfully tough. No one really cared as much as I did and the situation only put fuel on my triathlon fire. Seven years later and I’m improving little-by-little.

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