Half Ironmans Are Like Going Into Labor.

You may be wondering, "Jaquelin has never gone into labor (that's what you think), what's behind the title?" Or, "I'm a guy, I have no idea what going into labor is like...and also women rock and are better than men because they DO that....so I can't relate to that." Well, let me tell you, while talking about the half-ironman that I keep mentioning IS death, my mom compared it to going into labor. The ACTUAL experience is painful and you can't imagine WHY you're doing it, and then it's over and you love it and can't wait to do it again. Hm. Well, whatever, if you get that, great. If not, it's cool. I DID just try and explain the comparison between triathlons and having babies.

So the Mooseman Half-Ironman is what I've been preparing for since January, with my trusty friend/coach Dan Graovac (who is the founder of GForce Multisport, if you're ever looking for a great endurance race coach....). I put in a ton of time and effort and early mornings to get ready for this crazy event. And I was excited about it from day 1. Well anyway, Phebe, Ruby, and my parents all stayed in an AMAZING cabin on Newfound Lake and it was gorgeous and cute and I hope we go back.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. We got up at 4:45, documented the early hour with a picture, and were on our way. And being "on our way" to a triathlon is no party; it is BUSINESS. There are a TON of things needed for triathlons. From bike shoes and knee braces to Clif shots and a wetsuit...so many things. We always test each other sport by sport and list the things we need for each one. It's quite the process.

We got there, set up our spots, used the bathroom, documented some more, sunscreened, and okay fine, I try not to, but I get intimidated by the pros around me. The longer the course is, the more athletic and triathlonic the people are. Their bikes are the special bikes, their wheels are the thick ones that cost thousands of dollars, their helmets are funnier looking, their legs are tanner and calves more defined. And they are all skinny. Ugh. Skinny. Whatev. Please, the bike course was the hilliest course I've ever been on and my weight was DEFINITELY helpful when going downhill. All I'm saying is there's some sort of formula I learned in high school which I should still know but don't, and there's something about weight making one go faster. Just go with it.

So the swim is first. I joined the others in wave 4 with our show-everything wetsuits and cute matching red swim caps. THIS was the one sport that I felt was normal compared to my other triathlons. You can't make a swim hilly. I'm sure the Mooseman would do this if it were possible, because I've decided the director is mean, but she didn't. No actually I met her in a restaurant a couple of weeks ago and she seemed rather nice, kind. Can't imagine she would do this to me.

Anyway, there were times when other swimmers hit me and one swimmer did grab my ankle but I was never pulled under like the horror stories I heard. My coach once got a jellyfish in his mouth. Thankfully nothing like that happened. Well, it being in the lake and all. It was a smooth swim and I felt good coming out. Little did I know the death that awaited me and would take over my life for the next 6 hours. Muahahahahahhh....

So my transition was not pretty. They had people there with the sole job to help athletes get their wetsuits off quickly. I've always been successful doing this by myself, but everyone else was doing it so I fell for the peer pressure. I hopped around while looking for a free volunteer but they were all busy so after wasting a precious 12 seconds waiting, said "what the heck I'm better than this crazy 'help'" and went to do it myself. I'm pretty sure I showed my gut to all because my suit was all askew but whatever, all the skinnies were intimidated by it, I'm sure. I put on all my bike stuff and ran my bike to what I thought was the mounting station. As I began to get on, my sungless were all foggy and I felt lame. The crowd yelled that the mounting place was ahead so I had to sheepishly get off my bike and run further, meanwhile could not see. Yeah. Real smooth, Jaq. See, I think I look the part (well kind of, body size and the lack of all the "cool" triathlon gear aside) until I do something like that. THEN the secret is out. I only have a little smidgeon of an idea of what I'm doing. Ha.

So the bike. How do I explain it. I know I've said "death", and I guess that covers it. I wanted to stop about 5 minutes in. I've never felt that way. It was 2 loops of the same gruesome course. I decided to start practicing with the "small wheel" otherwise known to the pros as the "granny wheel" because it's a wussy wheel. It makes going up hills a little easier. Please. Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to say that the granny wheel makes it feel like I'm lying horizontal on the shores of a deserted island while somehow still being served Pina Coladas. It's not. But anyway, things went wrong right away, my chain got all messed up and I had to jump off to the side and fix it. After about 2 minutes of being panicky and using up mental energy, I got back on, switched gears again, and the chain messed up again. Ugh. Shampoo, rinse, and repeat. Same thing again, then I was on the bike for the rest of the time. There were uphills, there were downhills, there were good times ( just a few) and bad (all the rest). There were many tall and lanky and fit athletes with their defined calves and thick wheels and crazy looking helmets passing me constantly. Felt out of my league for sure. But whatever, I'm used to it.

I prided myself in never getting off my bike to walk up some of the more intense hills. ESPECIALLY because some of those walkers had the crazy helmets on! Man, if you want to wear those crazy helmets, you got to PROVE you can wear a crazy helmet. I'm just saying. So that was encouraging. So the downhills--since what goes up must come down--were intense. I reached speeds on my bike I've never reached before. There were a couple of times when I noticed 40 mph on my calculator, when I built up enough courage to do anything other than stare at the road and focus on how tightly I needed to hold on to the handle bars. Because I'm not a HUGE fan of going at death-defying speeds on something so very unsafe (seriously, one wrong move and I was dead) I put the brakes on every now and then. And THEN I freaked out because I smelled burnt rubber, from what I thought were my brake pads rubbing my tires. So I decided to brake less and be even more of a man. I put on the brakes less often and that's when I reached a million mph. When I was at these speeds, I literally said aloud, "Jesus I'm in your hands; Jesus I'm in your hands". Amazing how much more at peace I felt then. So shout out to Him, for holding tight to me. I mean, I could only hold my handlebars so tight myself....

So bike, bike, bike, hills, anger, fatigue, "OMG how much longer", oh right I only just completed the first loop I have another one, more hills, "Jesus I'm in your hands", lots of Clif shots and they are delicious like fruit snacks, hills, defined calves, self talk: "DO NOT get off and walk"...and then 56 miles were over and done with. Whew.

And then the run. The transition was much smoother and "cooler" because I had less to take off and put on. My dad always refers to one of his favorite witnessings, when he saw a guy go on his run with his helmet on. He realized later it was on and did his whole run while wearing his helmet. Obviously he'd be the safest of all in case something happened...like falling off his bike-..I mean his own 2 feet.

And okay, while the transition went well, the first few steps were a glimpse into how I'd feel for the next 13.1 miles. I kept thinking about how I recently told a friend that the run is my favorite part of the triathlon. I couldn't believe I had said that. In the moment, I hated it. I stopped and walked 12-15 times. I. Was. Exhausted. The course was down back, down back, so it was nice to see my sister 3-4 times as well as some fun kids from her Team in Training Vermont team. That, along with the excitement of a new Clif Shot (remember, the things that taste like fruit snacks, yet lucky for me, stand in as nutrition and electrolytes) every 10ish minutes kept me going...

I don't have much to say about the run other than how much I wanted to die. And how much I loved my Clif Shots. And ooh how when Phebe and I passed each other we slapped each other's butts. Probably the highlight of the run. Except for the finish. The finish was GRRRAND, because, well, I was finished. My parents and Ruby and coach and other athlete friends were there to see me in and the announcer dude announced my running in since there was no one around me. He said something about Jaquelin Hubbard from Beverly, MA, but all I heard was, "Jaquelin Hubbard go get yo water and medal and the prize of Cheetos and Oreos and ice cream with your next meal...without a care in the world". It was so good to be done.

I have officially defied death. There is thought and talk about a full ironman (aka defying death a second time...I might be like a cat). I don't even know. Omigosh.

So maybe you had a hard time with the title before reading my novel. Perhaps you have a better understanding? I don't know. Ask my mom. She's been through labor and she came up with the saying. She's your gal.