Scott Tinley's Adventures 2008

Society has a habit of picking on meteorologists. How many times have you heard someone complain about inaccurate weather forecasts? Personally, I believe our weather-folk generally get a bum-wrap in this regard, so I was happy that they got it right this past weekend when forecasting light rain for Saturday morning at Lopez Lake in California's Central Coast region. It may not have been the forecast I wanted, but at least I knew what was coming. The forecast mattered, because I was going to be competing in an international-distance triathlon that very same morning.

As predicted, I awoke before dawn to my watch alarm and the sound of light rain on my Explorer (where I was sleeping). Why can't the meteorologist be wrong when you want them to be? Steeling myself for the inevitable cold, dark wetness outside and with the usual pre-race jitters already taking over, I crawled out to shake off sleep. I told myself I was gonna be in the lake soon enough, so a little rain wasn't going to make much difference. I quickly pulled on race clothes, grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed down the hill from our campsite to the transition area at the marina. I wanted to get there early, because the transition area was completely "open" - no pre-assigned racks by group. With all the "good spots" (i.e. at the ends of racks) open to everyone, early arrival was the only way to stack the odds in your favor. Seems the rain had discouraged many competitors, so there were plenty of good spots available when I arrived. So far so good.

The rain was light, but steady. Within 10 minutes everything exposed was soaked, so I postponed laying all my gear out as long as possible. Luckily, the air was not especially cold. This proved to be a blessing on the bike, where 30+ mph winds can quickly make for hypothermic conditions on cold days, especially early in the ride when one is still very wet from the swim.

The lake was warm from a long summer of solar heating, so getting in was easy. The biggest challenge was that the course was essentially two laps around an odd dog-leg course that required us to actually get out of the water at the launching ramp where we started, run around one of the inflatable pillars of the starting gate and plung back in for lap two. In addition, waves were started only three minutes apart, so at any given time, we were swimming with competitors in several waves simultaneously. This made for a rather chaotic situation, to say the least. I'd recommend they change the course to be a single out-and-back configuration (like Wildflower) and space the waves further apart.

My first transition was quick (about a 1:30) and I was out on the rain-slick road before I knew it. I'd forgotten to take an energy gel before starting the swim (damn!), so I immediately downed the one I'd taped to my bike, so compensate. The bike course followed the road out of the recreation area, over the dam and down into the flats towards the town of Arroyo Grande. The rain was steady, but the air temperature warm and I found myself feeling lucky that it wasn't 80 degrees and climbing in bright sunshine. The course took us up a side valley with a few minor hills and breathtaking views of verdant fields and mountains draped in curtains of mist - really quite striking. It was a simple out-and-back affair and at the turn around point I knew I was going to have a strong bike finish.

With about 5 miles remaining on the bike, the first person I'd seen in my age group passed me. He was going considerably faster than I and I resisted the temptation to try to stay with him. I knew at least one person was ahead of me. I wondered how many others were. Transition #2 was a little slower, as I took time to eat another energy gel before heading out on my least favorite segment - the run. I'm not a great runner and have to rely on my generally fast biker performance to put some distance on the competition. The 10K run in these olympic-distance events is a challenge - especially when the course is hilly, as this one was. I'd not traversed it before hand, so all I could do was brace myself for the unknown ahead.

As it turns out, the run followed the swim theme - two laps of a 3 mile course. I have mixed feelings about this configuration. Once you've been around it once, you know exactly what to expect, which is both a blessing and a curse. Luckily, there was only one sizable hill with which to contend. I don't know my exact pace, but I knew it was fairly slow. By the time I got to the second hill, with only a mile or so to go, the second age group contender passed me. We grunted words of encouragement and I knew I was in at least third place - probably further back than that.

But it was half way up that last hill that I was truly inspired. Just ahead, an older gentleman was working hard, slow and steady against the incline. I glanced at his calf. It read 70. My personal struggle melted away. Suddenly the whole thing seemed just a little bit easier and I passed him with loud words of encouragement which, to my surprise, he returned with equal gusto. It was one of those fleeting moments many others have recounted from triathlon courses everywhere - a moment of brotherhood with a complete stranger. Two individuals bound together by design and by chance. I little prayer flitted across my mind - a familiar prayer I've said quietly to myself before: May I have the courage and stamina, the health and desire to race when I'm t70. Somewhere I found a bit more energy to power up that hill and open my stride wide on the final downhill and across the finish line.

Confident that only two had passed me during the race, I was keen to check the official results, so I waited in the finish area for the posting. To my pleasant surprise, I indeed finished third - only the second time in my career I'd finished in the medals! Only later it occurred to me I must have been first out of the water in my division.

With so many categories in two separate races, the awards ceremony was long. But despite this, and the intermittent rainfall that continued to dog the aoutdoor assembly, spirits were very high. The winners covered all ages and genders. It was clear that whole families of triathletes had competed - mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. There were women on the podium holding their infant children and even a few holding grandchildren. There were shy winners and flamboyant winners. There were elite athletes, trying to amass points in their quest for national standings, and there were first-time competitors thrilling to their first triumph over the course. Most were local to the communities of Central California, a few (like me) had come some distance. But what became increasing clear as the ceremony progressed through intermittent rain showers - more so than at any other event I've attended, was that all these people truly love triathlon. It's not just something they do, it's something they are. It is a very personal part of their lives.

By the time it was my turn to stand on the podium and shake Scott Tinley's hand (he shook every winner's hand!), I was aglow with a sense of privilege to share the experience with this particular crowd of athletes. Bravo, Scott, for creating and maintaining for thirteen years a very special event - in the growing crowd of triathlon events available today in California.

That night, we dined on grilled shrimp, a good bottle of wine and my wife's killer brownies. I setup my telescope and guided a few campers around the night sky. We caught glimpses of Jupiter, the Milky Way, the Summer Triangle and a beautiful crescent moon. It was a nice ending to another memorable and rewarding day. There's no doubt I'm returning to this event again next year.