The first thing that concerned me about this morning was putting on my shorts. As I was pulling my race shorts on, I noticed that the chainring mark that had been on it for the past two races was gone. Liz must have done a great job washing my shorts, because the stain is gone. Then I remembered, this is Liz were talking about. I looked at the size tag and believe me, I was fuming when I saw the letter "S" where "M" should have been. DAMMIT!!
Liz and I are both sponsored by TriSports.com and we have the same uniforms. As much as Liz tries to keep her stuff away from mine (because she insists mine never comes clean in the wash), sometimes her stuff makes their way into my closet. I just grabbed my uniform from my drawer while packing and didn't bother to actually check to see if it was actually my shorts or not. I pull it the rest of the way on, and it basically looked like a Speedo wrapped around a sausage on me. I unfortunately had no other choice as I had nothing else I could race in with me. After much complaining to Liz about my situation, it was decided that I would be more aerodynamic wearing tight fitting clothes. It was still uncomfortable.
The second thing that was getting to me was I had not had my usual morning regularity. I'm like clockwork in the morning and had nothing going on this morning. I had alot of pasta the night before and I was expecting SOMETHING, but I figured I would have to wait until the race site to jump into a Port-O-Potty to do it.
RedBear drove us to the race site, we walked in, got ready, and then I waited in line for the bathrooms. Waited, listened to the anthem, and then waited some more. The pro wave went off, and I was still waiting in line. I gave myself a deadline of 10minutes before my wave start to make it to the Port-O-John, and I was nowhere near getting in when I had to jump out. It would have to wait I guess.
The race start was much more aggressive this year, mainly because the water was very calm and it didn't have the "chop" the Choptank River is known for. That still didnt stop me swimming like and idiot, making zig-zag lines to the bouys and at one time having a kayak guide me back to the pack. I don't know if was me just screwing around or the outgoing tides messing with my lines, but I was further back where I should have been when I got out.
The bike was a little windy, but you could feel the heat building up already. The forcasted temperature for the day was to be 95degrees with a heat index of 102. I knew I went 25.1mph here last year, and I was pretty much on course for that now, but slowing down for the water stops was knocking a .1mph off that average this year, but I felt I was going steady enough. I had gone through 5 bottles of fluids by the 2hr mark when I caught Liz. I had been hoping for a report of where I was race-wise, and I got freaked out when she told me the race leaders had passed her 30 minutes ago. 30 Minutes? Did I hear that right? or did I hear 30 seconds? I could understand 30 seconds, but 30 minutes puts me way off the pace for this race because I knew they wouldn't be going much of a different speed than me. I dropped the hammer to try and close what I can.
I get to T2 and I see two bikes in my bracket at transition and both of athletes are still there. One is a person I don't recognize, the other is Adam, someone I've been racing with/against for the past 9 years. I exit with Adam and we run together for a mile or two. It is blisteringly hot, and the course has no shade. The pace I'm going is a little too much pressure for Adam at the moment and I have to leave him. Before I go, I tell him to stay in this game and just suffer through all. Not giving in to the heat is what it's going to take to do well here today. Speed is not going to matter. In fact, I turned off my watch because I did not want to know how pathetically slow I was going and let that play mind games on me. I catch the first guy who was completely taken out by the heat, and I saw one more figure up ahead running. I go for him. I come upon two other people from the waves ahead of me and I grill them if they know who is ahead. They say he's from a previous wave, but I wasnt going to take that chance until I get him. At mile 6, I get close enough to see he is TriSport.com sponsored and his number is 352(I was 572), but the sweat had wiped away his age. Right then my stomach drops, telling me the pasta is ready. I duck into the nearest Port-o-Loo and make the quickest deposit of the century.
Back on the course, 352 has gained on me again. At the turn around, Adam is close behind, still in the game and looking determined not to give in. I yell something at him and he yells something back. I'm trying to do more math on 352 on whether he in my wave or not. Next time I need to look at the numbers that are IN my wave so I know next time this happens. Not going to take any chances, so I lay it on some more to gain time on 352, and it burns. The ice water helps cool me down, but on the picked up pace, it only lasts seconds. The ice dumped into the jersey only feels like rocks tumbling around on my belly. I remember that this is how Kona felt and the only thing you could do was take in as much water as you could and forget the pain. It's better to pretend you are somewhere else and focus on letting go of the pain rather than to try fight it.
I get close to 352 at the 11 mile mark, but not as close as I was at 6. My stomach drops again. I believe my body was afraid I was trying to kill it, and it did the fight or flight reflex, making the body get rid of everything unnecessary. I had to go, and go bad, really bad. I had already lost the gap on 352 at mile 6, and I was not going to let the race pass me by while I was sitting in the shitter. There were not enough miles to make up lost time and I had to do something.
So I did what is probably going to scar me for the rest of my life. In fact, it's been on my mind more so than anything else that has happened since then. For the first time in 30+ years, and as a full grown adult, I shit myself. I was hoping for maybe a "shart" or a "squirt", something that I could do discretely and stay the game. But no, it was HUGE!! So huge that it filled up the back of my shorts (actually Liz's shorts) and was swaying around as I ran. I reached back scooped out a handful and flung it at the curb. Disgusting! Wiped my hand on my jersey and kept running. I was not going to catch 352, but in looking behind me, I had put a solid gap between me and everyone else. I had to trust 352 was not my wave, but I had given alot to get close and I was on fumes coming in. I saw the finishing arch and had the strength to hold the pace across the line.
People started coming up to me as I finished. They wanted to take me timing chip, give me a metal, see if I needed a trip to medical, etc. I avoided them all when I saw a guy with the hose. I made a direct line for him and asked him to hose me down. The cold water felt so good. That's when the question came out. "Did you fall down?" At first I didn't get it. I had no road rash or scraped knees to indicate a fall. "You have mud all over you." Then I get it. Mud~shit~mud. Brilliant!!!! Yes!! I did fall down! That is mud all over me! For the love of God, please hose me down!!!! As soon as I got done hosing down, I made beeline for the Choptank dove in, took everything off and swam away. I had never been so disgusted like that. Ever.
Waiting for results took forever. I found 352 and confirmed that he was a previous wave (much to my relief). As far as I could tell, I was the first finisher from my wave. Adam had stuck with it and came in just behind me. I was elated when I found out I had posted top 3 OA and in the Kona slots. It was tremendous pressure off, not having to hope for a roll down. I would get to choose for myself whether I was going to the big island or not. I gave Adam a congratulations for making a spot too and we waited for the sign in.
The waiting for the sign in was hot and in the sun. It seemed like it took forever, but for Adam and I, it was worth the wait for we had worked incredibly hard to get the opportunity.
Liz and I are both sponsored by TriSports.com and we have the same uniforms. As much as Liz tries to keep her stuff away from mine (because she insists mine never comes clean in the wash), sometimes her stuff makes their way into my closet. I just grabbed my uniform from my drawer while packing and didn't bother to actually check to see if it was actually my shorts or not. I pull it the rest of the way on, and it basically looked like a Speedo wrapped around a sausage on me. I unfortunately had no other choice as I had nothing else I could race in with me. After much complaining to Liz about my situation, it was decided that I would be more aerodynamic wearing tight fitting clothes. It was still uncomfortable.
The second thing that was getting to me was I had not had my usual morning regularity. I'm like clockwork in the morning and had nothing going on this morning. I had alot of pasta the night before and I was expecting SOMETHING, but I figured I would have to wait until the race site to jump into a Port-O-Potty to do it.
RedBear drove us to the race site, we walked in, got ready, and then I waited in line for the bathrooms. Waited, listened to the anthem, and then waited some more. The pro wave went off, and I was still waiting in line. I gave myself a deadline of 10minutes before my wave start to make it to the Port-O-John, and I was nowhere near getting in when I had to jump out. It would have to wait I guess.
The race start was much more aggressive this year, mainly because the water was very calm and it didn't have the "chop" the Choptank River is known for. That still didnt stop me swimming like and idiot, making zig-zag lines to the bouys and at one time having a kayak guide me back to the pack. I don't know if was me just screwing around or the outgoing tides messing with my lines, but I was further back where I should have been when I got out.
The bike was a little windy, but you could feel the heat building up already. The forcasted temperature for the day was to be 95degrees with a heat index of 102. I knew I went 25.1mph here last year, and I was pretty much on course for that now, but slowing down for the water stops was knocking a .1mph off that average this year, but I felt I was going steady enough. I had gone through 5 bottles of fluids by the 2hr mark when I caught Liz. I had been hoping for a report of where I was race-wise, and I got freaked out when she told me the race leaders had passed her 30 minutes ago. 30 Minutes? Did I hear that right? or did I hear 30 seconds? I could understand 30 seconds, but 30 minutes puts me way off the pace for this race because I knew they wouldn't be going much of a different speed than me. I dropped the hammer to try and close what I can.
I get to T2 and I see two bikes in my bracket at transition and both of athletes are still there. One is a person I don't recognize, the other is Adam, someone I've been racing with/against for the past 9 years. I exit with Adam and we run together for a mile or two. It is blisteringly hot, and the course has no shade. The pace I'm going is a little too much pressure for Adam at the moment and I have to leave him. Before I go, I tell him to stay in this game and just suffer through all. Not giving in to the heat is what it's going to take to do well here today. Speed is not going to matter. In fact, I turned off my watch because I did not want to know how pathetically slow I was going and let that play mind games on me. I catch the first guy who was completely taken out by the heat, and I saw one more figure up ahead running. I go for him. I come upon two other people from the waves ahead of me and I grill them if they know who is ahead. They say he's from a previous wave, but I wasnt going to take that chance until I get him. At mile 6, I get close enough to see he is TriSport.com sponsored and his number is 352(I was 572), but the sweat had wiped away his age. Right then my stomach drops, telling me the pasta is ready. I duck into the nearest Port-o-Loo and make the quickest deposit of the century.
Back on the course, 352 has gained on me again. At the turn around, Adam is close behind, still in the game and looking determined not to give in. I yell something at him and he yells something back. I'm trying to do more math on 352 on whether he in my wave or not. Next time I need to look at the numbers that are IN my wave so I know next time this happens. Not going to take any chances, so I lay it on some more to gain time on 352, and it burns. The ice water helps cool me down, but on the picked up pace, it only lasts seconds. The ice dumped into the jersey only feels like rocks tumbling around on my belly. I remember that this is how Kona felt and the only thing you could do was take in as much water as you could and forget the pain. It's better to pretend you are somewhere else and focus on letting go of the pain rather than to try fight it.
I get close to 352 at the 11 mile mark, but not as close as I was at 6. My stomach drops again. I believe my body was afraid I was trying to kill it, and it did the fight or flight reflex, making the body get rid of everything unnecessary. I had to go, and go bad, really bad. I had already lost the gap on 352 at mile 6, and I was not going to let the race pass me by while I was sitting in the shitter. There were not enough miles to make up lost time and I had to do something.
So I did what is probably going to scar me for the rest of my life. In fact, it's been on my mind more so than anything else that has happened since then. For the first time in 30+ years, and as a full grown adult, I shit myself. I was hoping for maybe a "shart" or a "squirt", something that I could do discretely and stay the game. But no, it was HUGE!! So huge that it filled up the back of my shorts (actually Liz's shorts) and was swaying around as I ran. I reached back scooped out a handful and flung it at the curb. Disgusting! Wiped my hand on my jersey and kept running. I was not going to catch 352, but in looking behind me, I had put a solid gap between me and everyone else. I had to trust 352 was not my wave, but I had given alot to get close and I was on fumes coming in. I saw the finishing arch and had the strength to hold the pace across the line.
People started coming up to me as I finished. They wanted to take me timing chip, give me a metal, see if I needed a trip to medical, etc. I avoided them all when I saw a guy with the hose. I made a direct line for him and asked him to hose me down. The cold water felt so good. That's when the question came out. "Did you fall down?" At first I didn't get it. I had no road rash or scraped knees to indicate a fall. "You have mud all over you." Then I get it. Mud~shit~mud. Brilliant!!!! Yes!! I did fall down! That is mud all over me! For the love of God, please hose me down!!!! As soon as I got done hosing down, I made beeline for the Choptank dove in, took everything off and swam away. I had never been so disgusted like that. Ever.
Waiting for results took forever. I found 352 and confirmed that he was a previous wave (much to my relief). As far as I could tell, I was the first finisher from my wave. Adam had stuck with it and came in just behind me. I was elated when I found out I had posted top 3 OA and in the Kona slots. It was tremendous pressure off, not having to hope for a roll down. I would get to choose for myself whether I was going to the big island or not. I gave Adam a congratulations for making a spot too and we waited for the sign in.
The waiting for the sign in was hot and in the sun. It seemed like it took forever, but for Adam and I, it was worth the wait for we had worked incredibly hard to get the opportunity.
Red Bear and his natural habitat, the Beer Cave.
JB before the carnage.
Red Bear doesnt know what is about to hit him.
JB and Red Bear after spending 6hrs racing in 100degree+ conditions.
When life gives you lemons, make Hot Pants.
22 comments:
Holy crap! Pun intended :-) When Liz said something about new racing shorts becoming yours, I had no idea!! That's an all new meaning to a brick workout ;-) Congrats, dude!! Way to rock it!!!
i don't even know what to say.
i can't believe what i just read.
on the one hand, you disgust me.
on the other, YOU ARE MY HERO!!!!
way to rock the crap outta that race.
cat.
oh, and given the last two posts ... how about a title change for your blog:
"chris' craptastic times in triathlon".
Oh, I find feces utterly disgusting. I have gone to great lengths to not touch it and I guess the taboo is now gone. Expect me to be flinging it like a bad monkey next time.
Small shorts
Big Sharts
Spot in Kona: Priceless!
Congratulations. I almost shart myself on the Metra laughing. Awesome effort
I follow a fair number of running & triathlon blogs and I've never read any shit as funny as this. Congrats on Kona! You've got skills, although I do wonder if you jinxed yourself with the burn the mule post - karma!
Dude. You totally owe me a beer. Okay, maybe more like a Recoverite frosty. Cause I'm totally the one who took your timing chip. And yes, I knew exactly what that was, but I didn't mention it to the others. We'll keep it between you, me and the fishies. Okay, and maybe The Internets.
Speechless...
I don't know what I found funnier, reading about it or watching my husband read about it.
Great race-don't forget your smelly hot pants in Kona.
THE BEST PART:
When I cross the finish line, IMAble says - Chris just crossed the line a few minutes earlier, looks like he went down on the bike, he was covered in stuff.
OH my dear girl...I hope you washed your hands.
Yup, I owe IM Able a beer. I knew that I better avoid as many people as possible, especially the catchers. The timing chip people you cannot avoid though. I was way too trashed to take the chip off myself and probably would have ended up face down in the pavenment if I had tried to bend over. Yes, our little secret. :)
Holy crap and you knocked the crap out of the course - the best lines have already been taken.
It could have been worse - some race in white shorts.
Congratulations on a great race and on once again heading for Kona.
wow. hardcore.
i'm not sure what takes more chutzpah, reaching down into your crap-filled pants mid-race and flinging it all to the side of the road - or being brutally honest about it and telling the world the crapping-throwing play by play. On the Internet. Where it will never ever go away.
Do you ever get to the end of a day and realize you've already lived your final epitaph?
Here Lies Christian Waterstraat.
He Crapped Her Pants.
I am not sure what was worse...hearing that story straight from your mouth on Sunday OR re-living it again as I am eating breakfast this morning. !!! Anyway, Congrats Chris! Nice job at Eagleman and way to win your AG and Kona slot! Jen H.
Awesome! Who's hungry?
The frontal picture does not do justice to the true hot pants nature of those shorts. The profile and the back view was almost obscene. Children should not have been permitted to look. I almost turned away.
First of all, "He crapped Her Pants"
Genius. Really.
Chris -- not a single person there had any idea, so no worries. And -- while you were certainly the first that day -- you definitely were NOT the last person to have the same issue. Three other people rolled through and did the same can't-touch-this dance through the shoot. When 28 slots to Kona are on the line, there's just no other way!
Hero slot #1 is already taken, but you just earned slot two. Bravo.
hee hee! hee heh! munkee!
dit
I'm laughing so hard I'm crying! Hilarious! Congrats on qualifying. Did you throw those shorts away yet?
Please tell me you will wear these shorts in Kona. They're your lucky sharts.... er... shorts!
:-) mary
Weird, this was disgusting, yet totally captivating...
Congrats on the Kona spot! And you better wear your lucky hot Pants :)
Dear Chris,
you are my new hero. I have been lurking on Liz's blog for awhile now and was always intrigued to hear about her half-Chinese husband and all your kabillions of bicycles. I cannot believe you shat yourself for your Kona slot and then went on to blog to the whole world about it. SO FRIGGIN' AWESOME!!! congratulations, I have trouble just peeing myself, even in the swim with all those people around me.
Liz better let you keep those shorts, you earned them.
Can't wait to see the waterboy family at Kona! Congrats :)
Wonderful race report...and thanks for the pics of the hotpants!
-Danielle
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