Rumpus in Bumpass Race Report: A Tale of Survival

Oh, Rumpus in Bumpass...where to begin?

Side note: if you are offended by use of profanity, you may want to avoid this post. Thanks!

I was pretty excited for this triathlon even though all week the weather was calling for thunderstorms, heavy rains, and wind. Either way I kept a positive attitude about it because everyone was going to be dealing with the same elements. I also had some pretty high hopes for time since my training has been on point for the last several weeks.

Phil and I were all set up and ready to go by 9:30 for the 10 am start time. We said our goodbyes, good lucks and I love yous as we parted ways to race.

The Swim:

This was my first open water swim but I was confident in my swimming and I told myself to just remain calm. My plan was to go out strong, settle into the middle of the pack, follow someones feet if I could find them, and just do the damn thing. When the horn blew for my age group to start I started out swimming hard until everyone separated a little and I had my own space. And then I found feet! YES! The water was murky but clear enough to see my hand infront of me and the feet of another girl. I was remaining calm and counting my stokes and sighting the yellow buoy and feeling awesome....and that is when it all started to go down hill.

I turned my head to breathe and as I put my head back into the water one of the feet I was following so lovingly made direct contact to my face. Pow- right in the kisser (or should I say smeller?). Direct heel to nose uppercut. God damn it hurt but I kept swimming.

I stopped at the yellow buoy to calm down after the hit and as I am bobbing up and down in the water the kayaer says "whoa! You're bleeding!". I am!? I touch my hand to my face and sure enough my nose was gushing blood. She paddles towards me and I hang on to her buoy and she asks me if I am ok and touches my face to make sure my nose isn't broken. Its not. She asks me if I want to go back to shore on the boat. "Do I have to?" I say. She tells me she will give me 10 minutes for my nose to stop bleeding before she makes me get on the boat. After about 8 or so minutes my nose stops bleeding, I thank her for her help and I continue swimming, stopping every minute or so to touch my hand to my face to check for blood. Needless to say, my swim time was not ideal.

I put the shitty swim experience behind me and moved onto the bike...where things only got worse.

The Bike:

It was rainy and windy- not very wonderful bike conditions. I kept a pace I was happy with and tried to mentally reset from the swim. I sung to myself and started feeling better. I passed a guy on a Cervelo and he said "Did I seriously just get passed by a girl on a hot pink bike!?"....yes, sir you did. That was my high point on the bike. Minutes later came my lowest point of the whole race (yes, lower then the nose bleed).

I got off my aero bars and onto my brakes getting ready for the sharp left hand turn coming up. I swung out wide to avoid crossing the yellow line and to give myself plenty of space. I was not trying to be a hero by taking fast sharp turns on a windy and rainy day. As I am turning, a guy passes me to the left and *almost* crosses my front wheel. I panic and lose control of my bike. Me and Pink Lady (my bike) take a powerful fall into a mud pit on the side of the road. Did I seriously just fucking wreck my new bike at the first tri of the season? Lucky both her and I were ok except for a few scratches, bruises, cuts, scrapes and serious embarassment.

Phil happened to be right behind me and see the whole thing. He stopped to make sure I was ok. I kept telling him to go and I didnt want to mess up his race but since he is the best boyfriend in the whole entire universe, he said some sweet words just as I was starting to cry and made sure that I was going to get back on my bike.

The USAT official asked me if I wanted the sag vehicle to come pick me up. I thought about it. I almost threw in the towel. And then suddenly I was filled with rage. No, I am not going the let this fucking race beat me. I dont give a shit about time goals anymore but god damn it I am getting to that finish line.

The Run:

Nothing special about the run. I was sore from the bike wreck and I had to stop twice because I was very close to getting sick to my stomach. Must have been all of the blood, nuclear water, mud, and Gu I ate during the race.

The Aftermath:

I was happy I finished the race. I would have been really upset with myself had I given up. I dug deep to get to that finish line. Even though I am glad I finished, I still feel dissapointed in myself and slightly embarassed by my performance. Although hearing stories from Kate about getting 2 flats during her first Oly, and then Ray reminding me that he was hit by a car once during a tri made me realize that not every race is rainbows and furry puppies. Some races are going to test your limits and they are going to suck- and Rumpus was that race for me.

When I awoke on Sunday morning (the day after the race) my legs were not sore- which made me feel like I didn't give it my all out there. And then I quickly remembered that I left my blood in the lake and my body imprint on the side of the road, had a very sore nose, and have dozens of scratches and bruises as battle scars. I gave it my all given the situations that arose.

I am also having a hard time being positive about the season when it is off to such a rocky start- ankle injury to bench me from the marathon I trained for 4.5 months for and then a really shitty first tri of the season. But it can only get better, right? I hope so because Im not sure I can survive more nosebleeds and mud baths.