Swim, Bike, Run... Skate?

I showed up at the expo for the Alexian Brothers Fitness for America Sports Festival on Friday with a 1 year-old, a 2 year-old, a 5 year-old… and 8 year-old “fitness” skates, all of which elicited smiles from the vendors. “Can I race with these things?” I asked, trying to figure out why a few of the wheels wouldn’t spin too well. Thirty-five dollars later, I had new bearings in my beat-up blades, and I was off-to-the-races, so to speak.

I felt like a guy who brings his mountain bike to a triathlon, but takes the basket and bike-rack off the back for speed! I've never done anything like this before.

Saturday was the bike time-trial, which was a disaster as my training partner, Jerome, was misdirected and never did find the finish line. And I ended up riding one out-and-back section twice. Oh well. The guys from Floyd Landis’ “Team OUCH” would have to wait until next year for their schooling. (grin) I still ended up 6^th.

So now it’s Sunday, the inline half-marathon. And I’m nervous. The pro skaters at Friday’s expo sprint race were skating on the flats at over 35 mph! What have I gotten myself into? The gun goes off, and as expected, my tiny-wheeled fitness skates and I are quickly dropped. I’ll just skate at my own pace and see how things play out.

Then I feel something touch my butt. I quickly grab it, thinking my water flask is falling out… and I grab a woman’s hand. “Ahh! How’d that get there? Paula, I swear, I never even kissed her!”

“Sorry,” she says.

“No, I’m sorry.” I say, as I realize that’s what skaters, do. They’re always touching each other as they try to keep their distance in a pace line. I didn’t even realize I was leading a pace line. And I’m thinking I’ve really got to learn to skate backwards. (grin)

After a few minutes, someone in my pack decides to try to bridge up to the front group. I jump on and we leave most of pack 2 behind.

Drafting in pack 1 was like an Ironman start. Getting dragged along by the draft, I hardly had to skate. So I decide to take a turn at the front. Problem is, I don’t know how to end that turn. I ease up, thinking someone will come around me, but no one does. I move to the side. Everyone moves with me. “Go ahead,” I say. And I’m relegated to the back of this 9-person group.

I do most of the pulling for the first loop, so I’m starting to get the feeling like I’m either the strongest one here or the dumbest. And since I have no idea what I’m doing, I figure it’s the latter.

About 8-10 miles into it, I punch it up a hill, and get a 20 meter gap. Soon the group catches me again, but no one comes around. So I push it up the next hill, which dislodges a skater or two. I may be the dumbest, but I’m going to have some fun with this! I wait for one of the stronger guys to take a pull. Then I hammer up the next hill, and I’m gone. I find myself in a headwind on the long gradual hill. Over my shoulder, I can see the pack is splintering and chasing hard. This is so much fun! I feel like a break-away rider in the tour… waiting to see if Mark Cavendish is here to wind up his sprint.

My back is about to give out, and my quads are full of lactate, but I suck it up. Yes! I’m going to win this thing!

Then I make a wrong turn.

Of course I do. Second time in two days! It’s a good thing I’ve got a helmet on, or I’d bash myself in the head! Why have I been cursed with this pathetic sense of direction? And why don’t they have someone directing us at this intersection?

By the time I get back on the course, I don’t know where the group is. Skaters from three races are all mixed together. So I keep skating hard and have to wait until the awards ceremony to find out that triathlon, coupled with a decade of youth hockey, is a recipe for winning this kind of thing. Looks like this offseason, I’m going to have to get some racing skates.

Dean