New York Triathlon was my first big event, more than a year in the making. I had my sights set on the event in Spring 2017 but the limited spots made getting an entry slot not possible.So much of a big deal, I actually missed MY (then) BFS SISTERS BIG FAT FRANCE WEDDING. This also meant that my #1 support crew boyfriend wasn’t in New York to cheer me on. Se la vie.

But I found a new crew a couple weeks before the race thanks to the Lululemon Triathlon Club. I trained with them for 3 weeks before the race. We ran our last shake out run the Saturday before the Sunday event. We then headed to expo. I took the previous day from work off, so I already went through the routine of mandatory orientation and browsing the 15 or so booths. The expo was a lot smaller than I expected. Other than the participant’s swag of a bunch of flyers, Pair of Thieve socks, a bag of chips, and a bar, my haul was a handful of RX bars, 1 SIS gel, and an energy drink.

I headed home to gather my stuff and made my way to mandatory bike drop off. A birds eye view of my bike path was a horizontal line across a map of Manhattan island. The police barricades for the race were sprouting up along 72nd St. I balanced the oversized clear plastic drawstring bag filled with all my gear on my back as pedaled and scanned the route I would be running on. All the way west, I hopped off my bike near ELIZABETH Statue where the Riverside Park’s network of biking and running paths begin. My cleats did not help on the sleet asphalt walk way down towards the transition zone. To get all the way to the edge of the water, there is a steep hill. It would’ve been awful if I slipped.

The transition zone had rows and rows of racks. Participants milled around with a clear plastic bag holding their belongings, as everything had to be visible for security concerns. Near the entrance were individual bike stands for the championship athletes. This area was just 1 of 2 holding pens securing some of the 5,000 bikes. In my transition zone, a long line formed outside of the mechanics tent. Neon orange floor pump were stuck in between bike racks. I pumped my tires and dropped my stuff off at my position, keeping everything inside the clear plastic bags. I went through the transition walk through, feeling the relentless sun on this 90 degree day.

I felt strong, nervous, and anxious for the heat. I completely underestimated the weather and it doesn’t help I chronically under hydrate

A bus across town brought me home to race number tattoo up, eat, and get ready for bed before it was even dark outside. 3 am wake up time are always fun. In the morning, I woke up, made myself blueberry nut butter oatmeal, went to the bathroom, then called a Lyft.

My morning Lyft popped me out into a stream of athletes. Dim street lamps lit the pedestrian walk way as the athletes filed down. Large generator lamps illuminating the transition area cut through the darkness. All the athletes found their spots and quietly went through the motions for set up. I made small talk with the girls around me, giving the tips for the first timers and also helping a girl who has never used a floor pump before. Wilded.

Once I was happy with my setup. I took my wetsuit and swim cap and walked almost 2 miles to the swim start. Straight north on the West Side highway, everything around me was still dark. It was a peaceful warm up, but really I was already sweating in the 80 degrees.

I drop a pair of flipflops at swim exit for the 1 mile run to transition then continued north. At swim start there were trucks to drop off your stuff and also an aid station. Volunteers were still trying to clear the debris from the pathway, so athletes would have less chance of stepping on a rock or shard. I looped around a couple times completely barefoot trying to find the correct barricade for my group.

It would be a little while before athletes started to go into corrals. I recognized some faces and attempted to scope out my competition. My group was far away from the first wave. To wetsuit or not; that was the question. I figured getting more sweaty would make it even more difficult to put on my wetsuit, so I slipped into the long sleeves. It was already in the 80s and I was beading sweat in all this neoprene.

We watched the pros go off, signaling the start of the race. My 20-24 female herd inched forward, slowing making our way to the barge for takeoff. When we got under the sprinkler right before the platform, I was seconds away from entering the Hudson. I know, everything every New Yorker has ever wanted. Jumping into the one waste-bath of a river, as if city toxins weren’t enough. Single file line, I was in the second row, furthest from the mainland. Before I knew it, I was butt on the barge, feet dangling, then head first into the water (I was supposed to go feet first, but who wants all this brown water rushing up your nose).

Brown, dirty, salty water streamed across my face. I was thrashing around, super thankful for the downstream current. I could vaguely make out some athletes I was trying to overtake and lifeguard boards I was trying to avoid. The lifeguard crew created a human barricade for the athletes that ventured off course and also acted as on-demand buoys for struggling swimmers. If the lifeguards got flagged down, the boards would go to the swimmer disregarding all other swimmers at risk of collision because the board were intercepting the swimmers path. I’m still salty about the board the cut me off in my swim. Upon exit, volunteers pull you up a barge ramp. First order of business was getting the Hudson grime off your face. I scanned the pathway for the first pair of shoes I dropped of. I couldn’t find them, so I keep running without shoes on the asphalt.

I blazed into transition, said a quick hello to a teammate, and ran out with my bike. First couple meters after the mount line was tight and some people were getting on their bikes, some were riding off. The other side were athletes coming into transition from swim exit. Once I rode a small distance on the pathway, there was a incline and potholes on the road before merging onto the highway.

Onto the closed highway and now having more room, I dialed into my position and started pounding asphalt. Wind in my hair on rolling hill reps, I felt good. I also found a 40-year-old fo play bike tag with. She definitely kept me honest.

The bike route was perfect distance and dialed in power. Only small issue were my aero bars started moving in the y-axis halfway through the ride. After the last turn around on 58th street, I whipped back into transition. The slow last bit through the park walkway was excruciating as I was stuck in single file. I got into transition, overshot my rack position, and got back to see I was the first bike to rack. Right back out onto 72nd street.

My legs were rolling; this was assuring, as I made my way on the completely closed road. My coworker, cheering me on intercepted me at the entrance to Central Park. There was also a November Project person handing out chips for salt.

My mouth was feeling dry, a sign of dehydrating. I was hoping I would hit an aid station early. The heat and humidity was building up and I felt a reoccurring blister start to aggravate the sole of my foot. At the first aid station, I downed water. It was too little, too late as I felt progressively worse. I was struggling to keep up with all the girls that were catching up to me, too proud to back down.

My core temp was too hot and my body couldn’t retain the water. The gatorade and water just passed through my system, meaning I peed myself twice on the run. TMI but this is how not to do hydration for hot and humidity. The 6 miles around central park was grueling, my spirits were also down as multiple girls passed me and I knew in this state I couldn’t keep up.

I barely made it across the finish line where I was immediately booked into the med tent. The world was spinning around me and I couldn’t walk straight. I was beaming red, my heart rate was sky rocketing, and pain reverberated throughout my body. The paramedics and volunteers placed ice on my head, under my armpits, and along my legs. I was plugged up to a heart rate monitor to check my vitals. My feet were damped from river, sweat, and moisture. A hot spot revealed a 2 inch long blister on the bottom of my left arch. After many salt solutions and eating a bagel I didn’t want, my body slowly recovered from heat exhaustion. I limped out praying my friends and team weren’t worried sick.

Seeing my two friends coworkers bright faces at the athlete exit was heartwarming. I lamented about my heat exhaustion experience and gushed how I was so appreciative to see both of them. One of them checked their tracker and mentioned I actually placed 3rd in my age group. I actually didn’t believed them. I knew I had to clear transition first and my friends got first hand reactions to how massive transition was. We then went to Lululemon UWS to have pizza, drinks, and drop off my stuff, before being half and hour late to awards. Thank gawd, we took our time because award ceremony was a disaster. It took another 30 minutes before I went up to accept my award. Bringing home the Bacon for BLT aka Brian Levine Triathlon!!