Before I could get into the pool, I had to wait for another competitor to finish his swim. His wife was his counter, meaning she was counting the amount of laps he had completed. The second he finished his 18th lap, he sprung out of the pool, ripped off his goggles, threw them at his wife, and ran to the transition area.
With that, I lowered myself into the pool and put my goggles on. I was ready.
One of my concerns coming into this race was knowing what to wear. I looked around and saw a bunch of people in ridiculous looking triathlon gear. Which was much smarter than what I had decided to wear. I was wearing soccer shorts into the pool and that’s what I planned on wearing the entire race.
I quickly realized this was probably not the best idea.
As I pushed off the ledge of the pool to start my first lap, my soccer shorts were pulled down from my pelvic area. I was sure I was mooning everyone who had come to watch the swimmers swim. Nothing like showing some ass crack to a group of strangers. But, I continued on anways.
Every few laps or so I found myself, pulling up my shorts, but other than that, everything was going smoothly. I was keeping a strong steady pace and in comparison to the other competitor in my lane I was flying. I was completing two laps for every one that she was completing.
The swim felt good and, as my counter, my Dad was yelling out the lap numbers as I completed them, always telling me to pace myself. I must have been hauling then, considering he was contuinually telling me to slow down, but I felt good.
I heard my Dad yell “18” as I reached the edge of the pool. For the last lap, I gave it all I had and pushed for my last lap in the pool. I had plenty of energy and completed my swim powerfully. I hoisted myself out of the pool threw off my goggles and ran to the transition zone, ready to hop on my bike.
