Hey Les, didn't you do a triathlon last week?

I'm sure you're all dying to know how my triathlon went last week. And probably thinking, "That's odd, she usually stuffs her tri reports right in with all her greatness and superhuman capes and stuff. Wonder why she hasn't written about it yet?" Well, uh, because I didn't do it. But you know I've got a story behind it. So, here we go.

First I have to explain that JulzHOLLA! up and left me and went out of town for menial priorities like "visiting family" and "awesome romantic 10 year anniversary trip with Sven to NYC" but whatever. So, I signed up for this triathlon to fill the void of her absence. I should have known better.

I rode down to the Cornhusker State Tri Games Triathlon with my pal Kathy. Kathy - as I stand corrected - is 2 minutes from being an Elite Triathlete. To give you some estimation on where we are comparatively - I'm about an hour and a half from being an Elite Triathlete. It's an honor and a lifetime I'm not willing to strive for. So, Kathy picks me up. Loads my bike. I'm waiting for her little limo hat. Maybe I should tip her. And the whole Driving Miss Leslie crew heads down to Lincoln. Mind you, it's raining like mad out. The sky is dark, and it's not from being so early in the morning. It's been raining so much here lately that that stupid Annie song is all wrong. Nope, sun's not coming out tomorrow, or the day after that, or really ever as far as I can see.

Had it just been me, I would have woken up, looked at the forecast and gone back to bed. But my driver was picking me up. And silly petty things like the lightning show, the thunder concert, and rain don't really bother her. She has way more accessories than me. So, I went with it, figuring Kathy would take good care of me. I don't know exactly what I assume she's going to do...what, like carry me the whole way? Maybe drive me through in a Pope-mobile? I don't know, but I'm feeling confident because I'm with Kathy.

We get there, walk our bikes about 1 1/2 miles to the triathlon area and then sign in and get marked. We park our bikes. All of this is in the rain. I choose not to set out all of my transition stuff out in the rain. I figure they're gonna call this mayhem off, and I'll be able to grab my bag and be the first one in line for pancakes that they are serving. How's that for transition?

The race was delayed for a while. So, I stood around and talked about things like the wet roads. And that the bike was three loops around. And when roads are wet, and you're riding your road race bike, it's slick. And your brakes don't work. I'm starting to get an image of Tour De France and the douche bag who crashes and takes out like 15 others. And I'm envisioning the odds of taking out the elites because they will lap me...twice. God. Then I remember I'll be clipped in - attached to the bike. And then I remember I haven't ridden the darned bike since the last triathlon. What puts me over the top is I remember, I'm insured. The bike is not. I wreck this bike, and my mediocre tri career hobby is over. I resolve that they are probably going to cancel this whole thing. I've been checking out the weather on my phone and there's just no clearing for the entire day. This will be easy. I don't even have to bail out. It'll just be canceled.

And then they announce that there's a clearing. No there's not. And they are going to try to get the tri started so everyone needs to get ready and get in their waves. What the hell? I'm walking to get my goggles and swim cap, and calculating that I could just do the swim, I suppose. Because I've already decided I'm so not doing that bike, for the sake of the other 500 people's safety. Wait, was that lightning? They keep saying that we need to get started before the lightning and storms start back up - that there's this slight window of opportunity. Perhaps I am superhuman with my vision, or maybe just closer to the sky or something. But lo, I see lightning. I walk to my wave group and see everyone with their swim caps on, goggles adjusted. I am paralyzed though. I'm staring at my cap trying to will it on my head, but just can't do it. I'm the only one who thinks this is a bad idea. I've mentally quit the bike, and now I'm quitting the swim. This is crazy. I start walking back to my bag and the announcer guy finally makes sense and tells everyone that they just saw lightning and can't delay the race any more. So, they are switching to a duathlon. It's a run-bike-run. The split up run isn't worth even lacing up for me, and I just don't do it.

When it's all said and done, I got some great pictures of Kathy and a few others. Lucy's Kindergarten teacher crossed the finish line. I congratulated him and he said, "I can't believe you really didn't do it." Great, now I've let my kid's teacher down. Nice. Still, I feel like I made the right call for me. I watched 4 people fall off their bikes just coming out of transition. And Kathy mentioned she saw at least ten crashes on the course. The last of the ten was being treated by medics. I made a good choice. I'm okay with me.

What I should have done was ride my bike more instead of going to spinning class. It's very different. Lesson learned. I have one or maybe two more sprint triathlons, and then the big olympic distance. Oh God. I better get on it.

So, this wasn't exactly the most inspirational supermom post about a triathlon. However, the aftermath was a very good kick in my butt to train more, and that I can't just focus on running, I have to find that balance for all three legs of a triathlon. It's why I started doing them anyway. I learned all that and also a valuable lesson that $40 is a bit steep for pancakes and standing in the rain taking pictures.

I've also learned a valuable lesson that I just shouldn't do a triathlon without JulzHOLLA there. Clearly, that was the whole "something ain't right" vibe I was getting. Well, that and the lightning and rain.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Umbrella by Rihanna featuring Jay-Z