Tri-bugs

Getting ready for a race just isn't what it used to be. When husband-dear and I just ran road races, all we did the night before was eat our tri-pasta (although back then it still went by the name of "pasta salad"), and go to bed on time. Once I (and later, we) started doing triathlons all that changed. Now we have journals, check lists, pre-race, post-race, and TA (transition area) bags, as well as a car full of supplies "just in case". I'm serious.

I mean, think about. A triathlon includes swimming, biking, and running, which means you not only need equipment for all three events, you also need enough fluids and nutrition to keep you going for the entire race. Last weekend, when both husband-dear and I raced, I counted the number of water bottles I ended up loading into the dishwasher afterwards: twelve. Yes, people, we went through six waterbottles each. Granted, that included pre-race hydration, post-race recovery drinks, the prerequisite water bottle to get the sand off your feet from the beach, as well as our race bottles, but still. Twelve bottles. Oh, and a camelbak. We were hydrated up the wazoo.

And although I won't bore you with my entire equipment checklist, let's just say that includes such items as: goggles (can't see without them), lube (to stop the wetsuit from chafing your skin, nothing kinky, get your mind out of the gutter), a spare everything, helmet, biking shoes, running shoes, a towel ( the only way to claim your little 1x1' area in the transition area), and a spray-on sunscreen. And as of this past Saturday, I'm going to have to add bugspray to that list.

Yes, bugspray.

Just when you thought you had seen it all as far as bugs went (cockroaches the size of your palm, termites dying to chew up your home, and ciccadas loud enough to wake the dead), there was yet another gigantic eeuw! to add to my list.

You see, this particular race required its participants to "pre-rack" their bicycles, i.e., put their bikes inside the transition area (on a, you guessed it, rack) the night before the race. And so husband-dear and I trekked out the event area, and dutifully numbered and racked our bikes the afternoon before the race. On a side note, as most tri-bikes cost the equivalent of a small car, I always find this an interesting practice. Even more so since no one ever complains. It helps, I suppose, that the event has a night guard on duty, and that no one, well except you all now, knows that the aggregate value of the six hundred or so bikes out there could really help the US get rid of some of its deficit.

And in case you wondered, no, husband-dear and I don't ride tri-bikes. I'm Dutch, after all.

Anyway, when we showed up the next morning, not only was I delighted to find my bicycle to still be there, I was also thrilled to find my bike covered in lines of tiny little ants. Yes, ants. A closer inspection revealed them to be the harmless black variety, which led to a minor celebration on my part, as I can't imagine riding a race on a bike covered in fire ants (actually I can. It would probably be my fastest race to date). After that small victory, however, I was left to wonder a) how these ants got here (we were next to a beach, after all, not the most logical site for ant hills), b) why they had crawled all over MY bike, ignoring the two $5k bikes next to mine, and c) if they would just stay on the bike while I rode it, crawling all over me as well. I could just imagine what the feel of tiny little ants crawling into my tri top and stampeding across my back would do to my time (or race pictures for that matter).

The ants appeared unperturbed as I inflated my tires, checked my brakes, and taped three gels to the seat post. They also didn't appear to care much about the two waterbottles that appeared out of nowhere either.

When husband-dear appeared to borrow the pump, he noticed the ants too, "Well," he said practically, "Looks like you'll have to add bug spray to your check list from now on."
"Apparently." I was not amused,
"Or get a termite protection plan for your bike."

Indeed.

The best part of the whole ant-experience (and yes, they did disappear once I started riding), was when we walked down to the beach for the start of the race and I caught the following conversation between a toddler and her mother:
"Mommy! There's ants in the sand! There's ants all over the sand!"
"It's OK, they're not going to hurt you."
"But I don't like ants! And there shouldn't be any ants on the beach!"
"Oh honey, this is Georgia, there are ants everywhere."

Very true.