Who Says You Can’t Go Home

On June 24, I competed in the Dutchman Triathlon in my hometown of Pella, IA. It was pretty cool for a few reasons—1) It was in my hometown, which gave me an excuse to go back and visit for the first time in about 3 years; 2) Vardo also did the race, so we got to spend some time together both before/after the race and, to a lesser extent, during the race; and 3) My parents and some family friends were there to cheer us on. Both Vardo and I stayed with my high school band director and his wife (family friends who were our backyard neighbors before my parents moved)—it was great to catch up with them as I hadn’t seen them for several years.

Driving into town on a road I’ve been on about a million times in my life, I suddenly realized how hilly the area around Pella really is…which wasn’t making me too happy with the possibility of a hilly bike route. It was also very odd driving into town for the sole purpose of competing in a triathlon—the last time I was in Pella, I had just started WW and still weighed over 250 lb, so the contrast was pretty wild for me mentally.

On race day, Vardo and I got up rather early (at least for me) and headed to Lake Red Rock to get ready. The day was almost perfect—the water temp was still wetsuit-legal (yippee), and the weather was beautiful—not a lot of wind and relatively moderate temperature. As this was the first Olympic distance race for both Vardo and me, I think we were both a little apprehensive—especially when we started seeing all of the other triathletes getting set-up. In sprint races, odds are there are at least a few first-timers and/or mountain bike riders—not so much with this crowd and their really nice tri bikes, very serious expressions, and obviously routine pre-race rituals. It was a tad nerve-wracking, but I figured the distance was more a matter of managing my pacing than anything else.

The swim was pretty uneventful—I felt pretty good through the whole thing and didn’t try to push it too hard. I actually beat Vardo out of the water, which surprised me, but she beat me out of T1. I got her on the bike again, though—and proceeded to have a strong bike leg. Turns out hill training in Wisconsin paid out dividends for me on the Pella course as I picked a lot of people off on the climbs and averaged 21.8 mph for the ride—a darn good speed for me. My parents and the Blairs made it out to one of the cross streets to cheer me on, which was very cool and equally unexpected, and then made it back to Red Rock again in time to see me pull in for T2. I took off on the run—way way too fast, I might add—and about dropped a load on the course when I checked my watch at mile 1 and realized I was running about 7:30 miles…faster than my 5K tri times and certainly way faster than I wanted to run my 10K. Stupidly, I didn’t really slow down and convinced myself the mile marker was off…until I hit the mile 2 aid station about 14:30 into my run and feeling like I wanted to keel over. Mile 3 involves a pretty good hill—not steep, but a gradual climb—and with the pace I was going, I had no choice but to walk up most of it. I saw Vardo headed up it when I was finally on the downhill and warned her that it wasn’t so fun. I survived the rest of the run with a couple more walking breaks—ended up with an 8:25 pace, which was tolerable but certainly could’ve been better had I paced a little more consistently. Overall, though, I was really pleased with my race—which was good enough to take the Athena win.

After hanging out for the awards ceremony (and running into one of the kids I used to babysit for (now married and all grown up)), Vardo headed to a wedding in Des Moines and my parents and I headed into Pella to bum around for a little while—I picked up some of my favorite Pella food treats and did some other random shopping before we headed back to Ames. All in all—great race, great day, and I’ll definitely keep that tri on my calendar for future years.