This morning was my first Olympic Distance Triathlon.

Today I had three primary objectives:
1.) Finish
2.) Finish the event in under 3 hours.
3.) Finish the swim in less than 45 minutes.

I accomplished all three. Remarkably, I was on track to place well within the 2:30 bracket. Then came fate.

At the end of the 1st loop of the bike course, I was cruising at 23 mph, descending onto a 90 degree turn, which had been fully saturated by an early morning thunderstorms' remains. Despite the pleadings of race official and authorities, I did not yield.

I turned, braked, and then hit the floor. I skidded across the street.

The initial impact was my right hip, then my right shoulder and then my right elbow. I suffered some sort of soft tissue injury on my right hip adductor, my right hip abductor, and earned road-rash on my right knee, right quad, right elbow, right shoulder, and right upper back.

I fixed the chain that de-railed, I corrected the tweaked brake clamp, and kept plugging away.

About 2 miles later, I began to climb, and realized a strong pain in my medial right thigh. Then I got off the bike, dismounted, and realize the pain was a lot worse than I anticipated.

So I started off the run, feeling strong, but certainly disabled. I kept moving, and then as I reached the 5k mark, I began to move. I am a cross country runner. I feel best when I run. My world is familiar, illuminated, and untouched by the savageness of the unwashed.

So I continued to move despite every negative message every synapse was firing into my muscoskeletal system. Passing one, passing two, passing three, like shooting fish in a barrel. Began to move at a sub 7:15 pace, more people picked off, more pain chemicals rushing to my hip. Wounds on back and arm are screaming for soothing cream or anything other than wind. I am at mile 6, and I am at 2:52: I need to break 3:00:00
Now I can play..

The last person I find, I can see is a very able-bodied triathlete. So I run silently, and then with 200 meters, I blow past her. I have learned to compete

I finish exhilarated. Then comes the great exodus of pain. Twenty minutes pass, and omnipresent agony returns.

It doesn't end there. I get bandaged by the paramedics, and I stretch. I down 800mg of ibuprofen instantly. Driving home, I got lost. I bought ice and coffee and Gatorade and a cookie. I felt handicapped.

I felt as if I had no sensual abilities. I couldn't focus on anything. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, I was a bit more cognitive.

Now I am covered in gauze, icy hot, and saturated with anti-inflamatories. I can put weight on my right hip, but not too much. Cannot really lift it vertically, but after a few strong attempts I can. I really have no inclination to do anything physical, anything combative, or anything stressful.

I asserted before today, that thereafter, I need to get away. Yet today renewed an enthusiasm for the sport that I had long ago discarded. But when you reach this distance, you recall how grueling our sport is. How much it demands of the human body. How far it takes the human spirit, and how it sharpens even the most lethal of competitors.

I now must curl up, lick my wounds, and look ahead to my next season.

You ALL are amazing people. Keep it up!