Just enough Glide to slip onto the podium

This weekend was the 2nd annual Sleepy Hollow Sprint triathlon. My buddy Eugene was working the setup for the course and adviced me to race this tri to get quick USAT points as no-one would show up to challenge me. Apparently others got the same word and the competition showed up.

For the past year I have wanted to race a triathlon in the retro style of Speedo only, like they use to race back in the 80′s. Now everyone is fully covered in skin suits and compression socks, so I thought it would be funny to be just about naked. I just had to find the right race to perform this feat. Sleepy Hollow Sprint seemed like the right distance, USAT rules, not WTC rules (which state you have to wear a shirt), and supposedly no one would be there.

So when I get to the transition, I realize there are some of the local “fast guys”. I’m already rocking the Speedos, so I can’t turn back now.

Side note – I had purposely wearing cycle shorts and cycle shirts to give me the proper amount of tan lines to contrast against my glowing paleness that was well seen in a Speedo.

The swim goes off well, it seems long, but I don’t mind. Within seconds I was leading the pack for my wave. A few minutes in and I pass the wave in front of me. A few more minutes and I’m between numerous waves with people flailing all around me and I have to weave in and out of nervouse swimmers doing various swim strokes, some strokes which can’t even be categorized with any type of recognition.

Out of the water and sprint to the bike, here we go!! I feel naked with just a race number covering my Speedo ass. I get going on the bike and realize just how naked I feel. Apparently, the rest of Sleepy Hollow wasn’t quite ready to see my paleness streaking down the road. Or maybe they were staring at my bike. Even with “shrinkage”, I don’t think this is what Washington Irving was writing about when he came up with the Headless Horseman, but I’m sure the residents were reminded of the childhood story when they saw me.

Sprinting off the bike into transition again, I grab my shoes and go out for the run. I look at my watch and realize I’m running a 6 pace, which is good for me off a bike. The next thing I notice is that tri shorts hold your thighs from slapping together, but Speedos don’t. With every stride I take, my thighs are rubbing and making a smaking sound. I had been warned ahead of time and used Glide, a Crisco greasy concotion, between the thighs. However, the Glide seems to have dried up. At the first water station I grab a cup and throw it at my crotch to cool things down. It worked, the Glide was re-activated and the smacking sound is gone and my thighs are not on fire anymore.

I now get my mind off the pain and realize I’m scaring little kids, young girls, the locals, the policemen, and the Sleepy Hollow High School Football team. Everyone is either looking away from me or laughing, well not the Football team, they look ready to kick my Speedo butt.

I get to the turn around which is the halfway point and realize 2 things, 1) I haven’t gotten passed and I know I was the first out of the water for my Wave, 2) my competition started 6 minutes ahead of me and I’m about a half mile behind him. But I look at my watch and don’t think my time is right and there is no way to win this race. I kick it up a notch and sprint into the finish line where all my competition is waiting to see who is coming in and from which Wave. They ask me what Wave I was in and when I reply the 6th Wave, they groan and state that I just won. Of course I don’t believe them and wander around for a bit talking ot other volunteers and racers. The race announcer lets everyone know that the results are being posted. Like moths to a flame, everyone is pulled into the gravition of the race results. The guy posting them let’s everyone know that the winning time is 1:04:XX and the winner is some guy named Zach Pratt. So naturally, from the back of the gathering I shout out “That guy cheated, I saw him”. The group turns around and gives me a disgusted look until one of them asks me if I’m Zach Pratt. I sheepishly confirm this and slink away.

I stick around for the awards ceremony and take off to go home.

First time on the podium feels nice.