Blue Lake

Well I hear the whistle but I can’t go

I’m gonna take her down to Mexico

She said oh no

Guadalajara won’t do

                                     My Old School

                                     Steely Dan

Some people have their superstitions. I put a lot of faith in positive things

occurring when good music is playing on the radio.

As I exited off I-84 onto Fairview my spirits lifted as Steely Dan filled the car with

one of my favorite songs. I thought to myself, this is going to be a very good day.

Spirits lifted or not, I was a wreck. This was going to be my first open water swim

and I was nervous as hell. I picked the Blue Lake Triathlon in Portland as my

first open water swim for several reasons. First and foremost, this race offered a

triathlon for beginners that featured an open water swim of just a quarter mile in

length. I felt this would be my best shot at easing myself into an open water

swim. Since I had done the bike and run I wasn’t as worried about those pieces

but the open water swim was a different matter.

I arrived early at Blue Lake, paid my entrance fee into the park, parked the car,

and made my way to the transition area. I picked up my packet and found where

to rack my bike. I discovered that each participant got a wheel bag – sweet! Of

course at this time I only had the wheels on my current bike, but it was sweet just

the same!

I got my wetsuit on without too much trauma, either to myself, or to innocent

bystanders. I kept my eye on the clock. I wanted to have time to get in the water

before my heat started. I could begin to feel the nerves tensing up as the start

time drew near. Right before I made my way to the lake an announcement was

made that the start would be delayed for an hour due to a backup of athletes

trying to get into the park. I texted Jaime, my coach, and he encouraged me to

relax, sit for 30 minutes, and then begin the warm-up process again. I joked to

him that the Deschutes Brewery tent was looking good. I received a reply with a

smile that said simply ‘take a deep breath and step away’.

I took Jaime’s suggestion to heart and found a place by the lake, sat down, and

tried to relax. After 30 minutes I walked down to the lake and began to practice a

few swim strokes with some other swimmers. Eventually it was time to assemble

for the swim. My swim group was herded into a staging area and counted. One

of the officials told us that this was to make sure they had the same number

coming out of lake that went in the lake. I can’t say I necessarily found comfort in

those words. I gathered with the rest of the group about ankle deep in the cold

water. I didn’t feel like I’d be one of the fastest swimmers so I positioned myself

toward the far side of the group.

With a “ready, set, go!” our group was in the water – a churning mass of arms,

legs, and oxygen bubbles. I figured that the first 25 yards would be the worst and

then everyone would spread out and things wouldn’t be so rough. What I did not

plan on was a moving swimming scrum throughout the entire race. Within yards

of the start some racers who went out too fast or were too freaked out were

already flipping over on their backs struggling to relax. Others were treading

water or resorting to the breaststroke. My strategy of hanging back to avoid the

melee simply meant that I had to pick my way through the neoprene carnage.

I turned at the first buoy and began to find my rhythm. I started sighting on every

tenth stroke and headed toward the next buoy. About halfway to the next buoy

another interesting thing occurred – I began swimming into the back end of the

group that went before my group. I weaved my way through the group and

rounded the last buoy. That is where things really got interesting. It was at this

point where the short course and long course swimmers all came together in a

final thrashing sprint to the shore. My one memory of that portion of the swim

was of a guy swimming perpendicularly through the rest of the group oblivious to

the fact that he was completely off-course.

I approached the shore and felt the lakebed beneath my feet. I struggled to lift

my body out of the water and run up the ramp. I was wobbly and felt like

perhaps some stout vodka had been added to the lake water. I made my way in

zigzag fashion to the transition area and slowly extracted myself from my wetsuit.

After what seemed like an eternity I found myself steering my bike out onto the

racecourse. I can’t say that I remember much about the rest of the race. The

course for the bike and the run was mostly flat and I remember passing others

and feeling like I was in a good zone. As I came around a bend in the run I saw

the finish line and a guy in my age group just ahead. I turned on the after

burners, passed the guy, crossed the finish line, and got a nice shiny medal.

Better still, my finish entitled me to a nice frosty beer! I savored the taste of the

brew, listened to the music from a good local band, and awaited my results.

Rather than putting the results on a board the results were placed on a table,

which was immediately surrounded by a throng of finishers. After several

minutes without the throng dissipating I chose to start packing up my things. My

wife and kids were back at the motel waiting for me and I figured I’d just check

the results later online.

The rest of the day was spent in Portland walking around with my family and

savoring my first open water race. I got back to the motel that evening and

decided to pull up the results. After a bit of navigating I was able to find my age

group. Lo and behold I discovered I finished first in my age division! I had a

chance to podium and didn’t even realize it or get the chance to experience the

thrill. I chuckled to myself, thought back on a day well spent with my family, and

hoped that I’d get that podium opportunity another time. As the presence of

Steely Dan foretold, it had in fact been a very good day.