So the 4:30am alarm clock tone was the signal that day one had arrived, and I was on my way to a new challenge. On this particular Sunday, I ran and biked in my first ever Duathlon. It was a short distance race, but a great way for a fat, slow guy to start out. The race consisted of a 3 mile run, 16 mile bike, and another 2 mile run. During the first run, I tried to start out at a comfortable level that I could maintain for the entire run. About a mile and a half into the run, I thanked God for the untied shoelace that he gave me and stopped on the side of the road gasp for oxygen.
As I started back, I began to drop in the ranks. My pace slowed as I was passed by a thirteen year old girl in pigtails. Next was a soccer mom. Next was a guy who was much fatter than I and about ten years older. I pushed myself on and gasped just to make it into the transition area.
I got on the bike and began working the kinks out. It felt different and refreshing. My ankles and calves that had been begging for relief finally got it and gave me a chance to show off these monster quads I've been working on. I knew my cycling segment would be much better, as that's where most of my training time was spent, but I didn't realize how strong I had gotten in this respect. I began to pass the people that had blown me away on the run. I made up substantial ground before I had to dismount from the bike and embark on the second run. I had a few more pass me in this stage, but the second run was shorter and not quite as severe.
When it was all said and done, I finished a respectable 67th with a time of 1:33:22. This was quite a way off from the winning time of 54:29, but it just goes to show that I have tremendous opportunity to improve. It felt great to finish and have my wife, Alisha, there to support me. I counted the day a success, and for the first time ever, considered myself a competitive athlete.
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