Tri, tri, tri...

I debated how to start this post for a little while. I would have preferred to start with a sentence like "I am not one to brag", or "I don't like to pat myself on the back", but as right now this just isn't true, I won't. Since kicking off with something like, "well, it was about freaking time", or "Jeez, finally, already" seems just too un-Dutch for me, I'll just avoid the whole opening sentence drama altogether by blabbering on about how hard it has been to find an appropriate way to start this thing.

Right, noticed how well that worked? Anyway, now that we got that out of the way, I really can't wait to tell you that I finally shook the curse of the eternal fourth place, and placed second in my age category in yesterday's triathlon. Second! Not fourth, not third, but second. Not to be outdone, obviously, husband-dear decided to simply smash the competition and placed first in his age category.

For those of you who have been reading along for a while now, this particular triathlon should be familiar. It was the very first triathlon I ever competed in, back in 2009. Back when it took three bags and two trips to the car to ensure I had all of my gear. Back when the thought of swimming 750m, biking 15 miles, and running a 5k back to back absolutely freaked me out. It was the triathlon we almost didn't do in 2010, and the 2011 triathlon where an army of ants decided to play "occupy Trek" on my bike. In short, it's the triathlon husband-dear and I keep coming back to.

In a way, this triathlon has spoiled me for life. It is one of the largest in the region, a major qualifier, and as a result, it is organized to a t. There are people at every turn and corner in the bike course, enough food at the different aid stations to supply the local homeless shelter with enough food for a week, there are multi-colored buoys in the water to guide you along the way, and they play the best music before and during the race. Having to stop to ask for directions at the half ironman last April, or squint through the fog to find the next buoy (as was the case at the Olympic in May of last year) was something that would have definitely not have happened at "my" triathlon.

But in spite of my adoration for this particular tri, it also put me under the "fourth place forever" curse. This started back in 2010, when I was about two minutes away from ending up on the podium. That same year, the exact same thing happened at a sprint tri I did in August. In 2011, my fourth place felt even more ridiculous, as I was in third place until about thirty feet away from the finish line, when the eventual third place winner ran up beside me. We raced down the chute, and in a finish that would have made the Preakness proud, she won by literally one leg's length. It was awesome. In a very sucky way, but awesome nonetheless.

This year, we weren't going to do this particular triathlon anymore. Having completed a half iron only five weeks ago, and planning another one for the fall, competing in a sprint just didn't seem to fit our schedule or our budget. But then husband-dear bought a tri-bike. And as every one knows, new toys need to be tried tested out. And so we signed up for this triathlon about two weeks ago, and immediately realized that, uhm, yeah, it might be a good idea to dial back those 60 miles rides, and focus on "red lining it" more than pacing oneself.

Now the triathlon almost didn't happen (again). Last week, husband-dear threw his back out, and just when he thought he was all well, he pulled a DixieChick when getting on his new bike, and banged his leg against the sprocket in such a way, he was left with a bump the size of a goose egg on his ankle. But fortunately, husband-dear is made of strong, sinewy stuff (that cares a lot about wasting a $70 entry fee too), and so yesterday morning, we drug ourselves out of bed and got ready.

It was fun to see how I've moved from three bags and back-up shoes, socks, goggles, shirts, turkeypans, extra water bottles, and pants, to one bag and no back-ups. It was also strangely rewarding to see how my personal transition area was the tiniest on the entire rack (with some women bringing their bathmats to lay out their gear), with the least "extra" things on it (no sunscreen, extra handtowel or water bottle for me). And when I was warming up in the lake (the outside temperature was 65F, while the water temperature was 83F - go figure), and two women, their purple caps denoting them as "novices" asked me which buoys signaled the turn-around point again, I realized that no matter how I placed or how well I did, I at least appeared to know what I was doing. And that's worth something too.

But even though my time was exactly the same as it was last year (ten seconds off, I kid you not), I placed. Second. It was a-ma-zing. And sure, I can probably attribute it to the size of the field (there were fewer women than last year), just as I can blame my second place at the half iron in April on the fact that only two women in my age group finished the competition. Knowing me, that's exactly what I'll do come tomorrow. But right now, I'm going to bask in this victory, and go stare at my trophy some more.