September 3rd was fabulous!  Thanks to all the volunteers, patiently doling out water and treats, dodging the empty cups hurtling towards them, cheering whether we smiled or not. Thanks to my friends for boosting me with their fabulous banner ("That's for me!", I wanted to shout), and to my brilliant family and better half for cheering me on like motivational speakers: "You are strong!", they called in spite of their usual British reserve. I actually laughed during the race - the big race that I had been so worked up about! Thanks to those who inspired my participation, especially Mark for the plan, the training tips, not to mention letting me worry out loud.
   The race day:
   I was so thoroughly craving the race. Having moved during the summer, I had restricted myself to only one other triathlon all summer long. It was a beautiful morning and I was feeling quite cheery...
   The swim: Two small panics; first of all, there were all those nasty arms pushing me down - I was burning loads of energy just to stay afloat. But that episode passed and I forgot about it.... And then, just as I was looking forward to wrapping up the swim, I saw a school of triathletes turning around at the buoys! Gasp - another loop? I thought that was for the full Iron competitors... Ah, just a short turn back to the beach. Don't panic. In the end, I came out feeling very positive, which set the tone for the remainder of the race. (note to self: next time, read the map three times).
   The bike (my weakest) may not have been fast compared to the "Trirudy-ites", but it felt wonderful to me with all those cheering people. Admittedly, I was in severe pain by the end, and counting down those laps. (Note to self: sort out pain points). It really helped to think of my amazing sister, who I had visited the day before in hospital. She had just completed her own double-Iron-equivalent: a day and a half of intense and difficult child birth. "This is nothing in comparison," I told myself, "just keep going." And I did.
   After the bike, I dawdled a little in transition, talking to some folks by the bike racks, wondering how on Earth they could have finished so fast - Ah, a relay team. They fell silent so I could "concentrate". (Most thoughtful, thanks... I must have been stalling on that final leg).
   The final leg: I started out strong... well, actually, that was what those sweet volunteers said, so there's no telling how I really started. I was tired, I won't deny it. I felt thirsty and slow, and hungry and full all at once, and I kept contemplating those little yellow huts along the way... (Note to self: Go, or forget it, as they say). I pushed along slowly, knowing I was close. "Just keep going, don't let yourself stop" I thought. Who knows what happens to your legs if you stop. Soon, I was pulling into the finish line, with just enough steam to pass the woman in front, whether she was in my race or not.
   I crossed the finish line. Delighted and reaching my "stretch target". Some poor fellow had to pull the race chip from my ankle. Too tired to thank him.
   I soon discovered my parents waiting for me, impressed as anything, they said. My motivational speakers arrived, a bottle of bubbly and flowers in hand to top off a wonderful day.
   What a superb experience I had for my first Half. All that's missing now is the next one.

 

And here's Louise R's (6:30am Earlybirds) volunteer report:

   "They can't hear your soft voice," my fellow water table volunteer told me, as runners bypassed my "Coke, Gatorade and water!"
   As much as my triathlon skills are in need of honing, my volunteer skills are even worse.
   Because I spent the first half century of my life with no competitive sports involvement whatsoever, when I say "looking good" or "nice pace", I feel as if I'm speaking a foreign language.
   Sometimes as I struggle to find the right words to cheer someone on, particularly those I know and care about, they are long gone down the path by the time I manage to open my mouth.
   And everyone is so nice to my friend Kristin and me as we jostle for first and second place in our age category. (In every triathlon we've done this season, we've been the only ones in our age category.) As my husband says, "Doesn't that tell you something?"
   Nevertheless, even though the races are over, I want to say to the competitors,"You are amazing! Go iron people and half iron people! Your skill and good humour in the sun and rain really are an inspiration!"
   It's wonderful to have an iron distance race in Ottawa, and I hope more spectators come out next time.
   Congratulations on a superb accomplishment. In future, I'll yell louder.