Salem Spring Triathlon
June 7, 2008

I’ve reached the conclusion that I bring bad weather to triathlon venues. If I’m signed up for any event you’re planning to do, you might as well forget about it.

The latest weather related disaster occurred in Salem, UT. The sprint distance event (800m, 20k, 5k) fell mercy to rain and 40 degree temperatures. The transition area was better suited to kayaks than it was to bicycles.

Here’s the whole story:

The wife and I planned to do this one together. It would be my fifth triathlon, but only my second open water swim. It would be her first triathlon. I mapped out our estimated times, incorporated the difference between our start times, and calculated that I could finish the event before she arrived at T2. I was quite excited to cheer her on through T2 and then as she finished the run.

Friday we took a trip to the lake to help her ease some swim-related concerns. We had a great swim together (in spite of some chilly temps and wind), probably covering about 500 meters. She felt much better.

Saturday morning we made the trip from Draper to Salem (about 45 minutes), checked in, and found shelter. The rain kept on coming. It was pretty obvious that the bike leg wasn’t going to happen. I could see the race director was bargaining with the Utah County Search and Rescue officials (who were in charge of patrolling the lake) to retain the swim leg. It was touch and go for a while. I was worried the event was going to become a 5k community fun run. In the end a compromise was reached to do a shortened swim (500 meters) followed by a 5k run. Oh well. That’s much better than just the 5k.

I have received a lot of advice about hanging to the back on the swim start to avoid getting caught up in the washing machine. I’m not convinced that’s good advice. I tried it once and all I got was a bunch of feet in my face. So this time I moved to the front. As the horn sounded I lunged forward and looked for my rhythm. Knowing that the course was short and that I had a bunch of folks on my tail ready to swim over the top of me, I pushed pretty hard. The strategy worked well. I didn’t get kicked in the face even once. I came out of the water and crossed the timing mat in about nine and a half minutes (13th in my wave).

Transition was pretty clean. Going straight to the run is a little easier than trying to get ready for the bike. I was out in just over two minutes.

I figured this was my chance to see what I could do on a 5k, since my legs were pretty fresh. So I pushed pretty hard. I’m a slow runner, so pushing hard to me means keeping the pace around 7:30 min/mile. But, alas, I’ll likely never know how fast I was going because the timing system failed at the finish line. The results have me down with a big fat DNF. Bummer. I think I’ll start wearing a watch.

The strange thing was that right after I crossed the finish line I saw my wife walking toward me. Huh? Her wave started several minutes after mine. Dang! She really busted a move out there! No. Turns out she grabbed onto one of the floaties behind a jet ski to catch a breath and the official pulled her out. I was surprised by that. I always thought the swimmers could grab onto those things to regain themselves and then continue. I felt bad for her, but I was proud that she stuck it out through the cold and the rain. Next time.

In the end, less than half of the nearly 1,000 entrants actually participated. Many never showed up because of the rain. Many more left after seeing the wet conditions. I don’t blame them. I was bummed to lose the bike leg, which is my personal favorite. But I wanted some open water experience, and this was just perfect for that. I loved this swim and felt pretty good about my time.

Since the timing device failed at the finish line, I guess I get to make up my own time for the run. I’m thinking something like 18 minutes would be nice. :)