My mother came to the rescue that Sunday and told me that she ran into a friend at church who is an avid triathlete and that she wanted to give me something for my bike. Since both me and my bike needed all the help we could get, we stopped by her house later that week.
She was in her 60’s and was the sweetest lady I’d ever met. I couldn’t believe she did triathlons. If she could do it, so could I! She gave me a little contraption for my bike. It hooked onto the handles and it was to lean on when I got tired. She said she would meet me the morning of the triathlon to help me set up my transition area. I don’t remember what else she said to me, but I remember feeling awesome and ready for my first triathlon. And my Wal-Mart bike never looked better now that it had a professional apparatus hooked to it.
I was still a bit nervous and I still had a few questions, so I decided to go to the pasta dinner that the YMCA was hosting the night before the triathlon. My grandpa was also a member of the Y and so I asked if he would come with me. Together we walked into the room of maybe 8-10 people. I thought there would be a lot more people there to ask my questions too. Looking on the bright side, more pasta for me! However, there wasn’t much room for pasta since I had so many butterflies in my stomach. We ended up sitting at a table with this one lady and I told her it was my first triathlon and asked if she had any advice. She told me to have fun and to eat toast with peanut butter for breakfast. That was it. Seriously?! Have fun and eat peanut butter? Sheesh. Guess I had to figure things out on my own. At least I had the eat peanut butter thing down. I was really good at that part.
On my way home, I stopped to get some power bars, goo and Gatorade. I didn’t even know what goo was, but I saw adds for it in all the thriathlon magazines, so I got some so that I looked like I knew what I was doing even though I had never tasted it before. I packed up the car that night with my bike, a towel, a borrowed wet suit that was 2 sizes too big, my sneakers, and my power bars, goo and Gatorade. Ready or not first triathlon, here I come.
Read on about my first triathlon: pre-race jitters