This is my first post, so bare with me as I get up to speed with this.

First off, I live in Oregon and started doing triathlons about four years ago. My main reason for getting involved in Tri's was for my health. When my wife got pregnant with our son, I was thirty pounds overweight. I decided that I didn't want my son to grow seeing a lethargic parent who didn't do anything but eat cream puffs and watch TV. After talking to some friends, I suggested that we might try doing a triathlon. Every one got excited and agreed to train for one.

As a team, we signed up for a sprint tri just to see if we would like it. We liked it, and we quickly started planning for another. We decided to kick it up a bit and do a half ironman at the Pacific Crest in Sunriver, Oregon. I chose to do the swim. The night before the race, I threw my back out. For the rest of the day I wrapped my back in heat, laid on the floor, took aspirin, hot showers, and anything else I could think of. The next day my back had loosened up enough that I was able to do the swim in a respectable time.

For me that weekend solidified my interest in triathlons. More then the competing, it was being surrounded by 3,000 other athletes from all walks of life. And the amount of energy and comradely from everyone was infectious this was my first foray into this world and everyone their made me feel like home.

My training intensified, I started reading books and magazines on the sport; how to train, how to eat, and I was a sponge soaking it in. We set out sights on another sprint in September at the costal town of Lincoln City. But through my enthusiasm, I made my first major mistake. I overtrained. I feel that overtraining is the biggest and easiest trap to fall into. I was essentially doing hard brick workouts five days a week. I got sick and that threw my training off by a few weeks.

Finally, when the day came and we drove to Lincoln City got a hotel room, I made mistake number two. Being nervous and anxious I didn’t eat enough the night before the race.

When morning arrived we got to the race site surveyed the swim, got our transition area set up. Race time drew nearer, I got into my wet suit and walked down to the lake. There’s a part of you that screams in your head that no sane person should be standing in a lake at eight o’clock in the morning. That just isn’t NORMAL. Yet, here we are about a hundred of us standing knee deep in cold lake water.

The starter gave some last minute instructions and then the countdown began. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It’s usually at this point that everything you’ve read, and the training you worked so hard on leaves your head and goes somewhere, maybe a local bar, and laughs like mad at you.

Because no matter how much you read about the swim start of a race, nothing, I mean nothing, can prepare you for the actual thing. As a babe in the water, you are thrown into the sea of frothing water. Arms, legs, bodies are all around you. And all you start thinking about is breathing. I hadn’t gone more than 100 yards – which seemed like a mile – immediately I started to dought myself: could I do this? Where is the support boat? At that point, I broke into a breaststroke and clamed myself down. I watched as a huge group of swimmers moved off into the distance. Now, it became a matter of just getting though this swim. I started to eye the first buoy, and thought if I can just get there then I can get to the next buoy. That plan worked and I was able to pass the second buoy and get back into freestyle

I made back to shore, but as I crawled out of the water, mistake two reared its ugly head. As I peeled out of my wetsuit rushing to T1. Bending over to get the rest of my wetsuit off, everything started spinning. I stopped and grabbed the bike bar to steady myself. I held on to the bar for what seemed like minutes, just hoping that I wasn’t going to pass out. I tired to focus on getting my head to stop spinning. Finally, I began to feel somewhat normal again, and I got my bike gear on and got on my way. Always eat the night before, and the morning of a race.

I ended up finishing the race in about 1:40 minutes. The time I figure okay for my first tri. I had a great time, and the lessons I learned were as valuable as anything.

Since that time I’ve competed in about 10+ triathlons, mostly sprints, and some Olympic distances. Out of the three Olympic distances I’ve done I over mixed my Gatorade to point where I couldn’t drink it. So, for the bike, I didn’t drink enough liquid and I had to walk in 95+ degree weather for the run. Last year my rear derailleur snapped from my frame. I ended up having to get a ride to T2 from one of the race officials and finishing the run.

I just finished my first race of this season, a sprint on a fast course. My training has been going well and in the last few years I feel that I’ve gotten better about how my body works. And for this tri, I had my best time ever for a sprint, a 1:09:48. That put my eleven overall and second in my age group.

So for those you are in the midst of doing a first tri I hope that my experiences will help you realize that I lot of things can happen; however, all of this is part of sport and you must learn to take it in stride, or you’ll end up driving yourself mad.

Remember: The sport itself is perfect, but we’ll never be.