Over the weekend we found ourselves at a little tri-clinic with about a dozen to fifteen others getting pep-talked, drilled and advised by pros.
(Now before you read any further, the events described here did really happen and my thoughts on the whole thing, while accurately reflected here are largely intended to be somewhat humorous and tongue-in-cheek description of the day…)
Cliche as it is, most of the guys, being triathletes and, well, boys, spent much of their day trying to feel each other out, impress (someone? each other?) and out-do each other to find their place in the sausage-y totem pole. Who’s faster? Who can run further? Who’s done the most races? Who’s got the sleekest, most tricked-out tri bike? Who’s going to cry “uncle” during the workouts first and perhaps most importantly, who’s going to WIN?
Naturally, part of the day included swim drills so we divided up into 2 lanes according to speed / ability and did sculling drills, catch-up drills, drills to help with rotation and position, drafting drills and mass starts. It was all fine and good until the mass starts… we had to jockey for position and then swim out about 200 or so. In 1 lane. In a 25 yard pool. There were 6 or 7 of us in each lane. Seems like a good idea, right?
Being the smallest in the lane and also the only female in the fast lane, I let the hot headed dudes sort themselves out, not wanting to be on the wrong end of a testosterone fueled elbow or fist. Generally in these kinds of situations, including triathlon starts, that is how I roll. I’m usually faster than the average person and underestimated as well. Let others throw elbows in the pack, I’ll draft up the chain and pass later. No biggie. Better that than needing stitches.
But at the clinic, holding back meant I sacrificed my position further up in the line for the entire drill. With just 25 yards to work with and 6+ people to the lane, there was almost always other people coming straight at you at high speeds and with not enough room to go 3-wide in the lane, you were basically were stuck in line until at least halfway down the lane when the oncoming traffic cleared. Then you had 10 yards or so to make a break for it, pass the other person and get back onto the right side of the lane before you got plowed over by oncoming traffic.
Sure enough, after just 25 yards I found myself behind a dude whose weiner, ahem – I mean ego, wouldn’t get out of my way. Every time I made a break for it, I’d pass him and hit the wall first – me on the left and him on a right. I’d push off strong with every intention of escaping quickly and unscathed and most importantly in front of him so I could swim at my own pace and not his snail pace. But being a dude, he couldn’t take getting beat by a girl so he’d push off to the right and crash into me, run me over and I’d find myself getting ramrodded into the laneline and stuck behind him again. (As obnoxious as this was, I can only assume he identified this as his last-ditch option to prevent a girl from passing him as he didn’t appear to be able to outswim me…) And then, just a few yards into the lane, I’m smacking the bottom of his feet, his ankle, even the back of his calf with every stroke, having to pull back and breaststroke even (the slowest of all swimming), waiting for my opening to make a break for it again. It got old real fast. But I did get some good drafting practice in, so at least there’s that.
Look, I’m as competitive as anyone. But seriously dudes? We all know you’re all big and tough. Strong and fast. The best and the baddest, right? The supercoolest. We know. Your egos are fragile and getting passed by a girl is only the worse thing that can happen. But please move out of my way. You’re embarrassing yourself and I’m embarrassed for you. Isn’t it worse to have a girl have to slow down and clearly cut back to 50% effort than to just let me go by? I’m promise I’ll be discreet – no one will even see it…