Well about a month and a half ago I was running almost well again. A few things happened- mostly, buying a house. Athletics hit the bottom of the priority list, and I admit I could have done a little better. A lot better. I just didn't feel like skipping sleep for exercise or waking up at 4:00 am like some tattooed, earringed, Sportsbackers Training Team coach/duathlete/marathoners I know. But I had registered for the On-road Sport Duathlon in April, and when I woke up that Sunday, I decided I'd do it anyway.

I wasn't sure how packet pick-up worked, so I drove over the Lee Bridge (I basically lived on the race course) and figured it out. I found out that I needed to bring my bike to the transition area an hour before the race starts. I had stickers for numbers, for myself, my helmet, and my bike. (Thanks again to Elaine Casper for the bike!) The other duathletes were on the course, and I was watching them get off their bikes and take off for the run. This was confusing and happened very fast. So I went home; I had 3 hours to change my mind and my bike gear (upon realizing I would have to leave T1 and head immediately up a hill).

It was raining by 12:00 and I had no idea where to put my bike. I had also forgotten a hat to run in, and gloves for my bike. Luckily Sean Cusack was directing everyone where to put their belongings in the transition area. And also, when presented with my whining/eyelash batting of "I forgot my haaaaat," gave me a hat. Don't worry ladies, he was fine; I saw him three minutes later wearing another hat.

The run starts. I'm out of shape but stupidly excited and I pass as many people as I can on the partly-downhill first mile. 7:18. Ok pace for a normal 5K. Completely wrong for this situation, for me. It only gets worse. Those people all passed me again, especially when I camped out getting some water at the top of the hill on the way back. Two reasons- one, I knew this was it for water for me, and two, I knew once I got to my bike I would have to get on it. This thought made me nervous, especially because I hadn't been on the thing in at least a couple weeks.

I ran to the bike, which wasn't as hard to find as I had feared. I was terribly, terribly nervous and trying to grab all my stuff. I didn't want to forget the helmet and be the laughing stock of the baby race. I may have actually been shaking. I didn't realize how nervous I was until I felt a warm wetness in my shorts. Just a little warm wetness. Great, I wet my pants. I bent down to grab my bike shoes and put them on- whoosh. Wet them all the way. That's right folks. Wet my shorts during a race and lived to blog about it. So ten or twelve minutes later, or so it felt, I'm out of T1 and clipping in to my pedals, sliding around on my wet seat (just kidding, it wasn't that bad), climbing the first hill. It was so fun. I had a blast on the bike. I passed someone right away, but mostly just got passed the rest of the time, at least by a few people. Mostly I was by myself. Four laps of the Lee Bridge Course. On the third lap I had some problems and could no longer change the gear on my bike. That wasn't much fun and made the hill climb much slower. I still had a blast on the bike. Unfortunately I needed to run one more time.

This transition took me almost as long as the first one. I headed back down the hill, trying to tell myself I didn't have far to go this time. Not that I really did the first time either... Surprise! I saw some friends volunteering at the turnaround. Sarah offered me the exciting information that I was in the top 10 women. I think there may have only been fourteen entered. Bless her. I am only partly ashamed to admit that I walked a little during this less-than-two-mile jaunt. Eventually, looking like a total dork, I crossed the finish line at a jogging pace.

So I learned a few things. The on-road duathlon had an off-road run. Riding a bike is fun. Cyclists wear shorts with a chamois because extra padding is great... but in a pinch, they can double as a diaper.

More duathlon? Yes, I think so.

Chevy