The front has “LANEY” in big bold lettering with “is na’an stop!” under it.
They hosted a dinner for me and Miguel on Thursday night. They kept the spices to a minimum knowing how absolutely fucked your digestive system can get during these races.
I told them it hadn’t been a problem so far but Auntie Leepa said it would be a shame if the new outfit they bought me got poop stains on it.
“That’s my girl!” I hear and I look up to see Dee with her family along the transition lane. The sign she’s holding over her head says,Yay! You didn’t drown!
I laugh as I jog past them kicking my wetsuit down as I run.
Miguel helped me set up my bike last night, and I checked it all again this morning like I promised him I would. I didn’t knock anything over either!
Just as I left it, my helmet balanced on the saddle, sunglasses rubber banded to the handlebars, and a caffeine chew taped next to it. A satisfied smile stretches my cheeks and I inhale deeply as I clip into my helmet and pull my bike off the rack.
It rolls easily to the start line where I can mount and get my feet clicked into the shoes already clipped into the pedals. The whole transition feels smooth and even with my heartrate pounding in my chest, I feel calm.
Two and a half miles of swimming and the first transition are behind me.
My feet find the powerful cadence Miguel helped me master and I settle in for the one hundred and twelve mile bike ride up and down the lakefront.
RIDING IT
It’s almost laughable to think I felt satisfied after the swim.
The miles are taking their toll.
My ass is raw. My seat is no longer a bike saddle, it is a torture device meant to derail me. My butt is burning, my quads and hamstrings too, and my delts, lats, and trats take turns locking up.
But my watts have been in the ideal range and I choose to believe I still have juice in the tank.
Which is good because I don’t think I can stomach another artificial watermelon flavored gel. But somehow, the idea of actual food is worse.
The stretches of miles for the bike course are much less populated than the transition area and the marathon that will snake through the city. It makes this leg tougher to endure.
What I wouldn’t give for a funny Dee sign right now.
Mile 80 just clicked by, somehow the 32 miles to go don’t feel like a lot. My mind goes a little blank after realizing it’s still longer than the 26.2 I’ll be running next. I drop my head and watch my feet push and pull on the pedals.
Deja Brew is up ahead. I was on the far side of Lakeshore Drive on the way down but I saw the group of people gathered out front.
My stomach rebels at the thought of the carrot cake I love, but I’ll be back to eating it later this week. Already, my body is getting used to the rhythm of TP races and recovery and it gets a little easier after each race.
I hear a cowbell sounding off ahead and I lift my gaze. I’m close enough to see Tony standing in the back of a pickup truck, wearing a blowup costume so it looks like he’s riding a dinosaur, ringing the bell. Leaning against the truck is a giant spray painted piece of plywood sayingRide like the wind bullseye!
I smile and the small twitch of my facial muscles gives me a jolt of energy.
“Free carrot cake tomorrow!” He yells through a mega phone as I pass and my head drops with a laugh.
Before I know it, I’ve spun through the tall apartment buildings of the South Loop and break out onto Michigan Avenue before slightly turning right up Ida B. Wells Drive, curling onto Columbus past Buckingham Fountain, to Monroe, to Lake Shore Drive, and am rolling towards the transition area again.
I slide my feet out of my shoes and pedal on top of them and dismount cleanly before the line. A volunteer takes my bike and I unclip my helmet as my legs come around to the idea of running. It’s like coming back to land after a day at sea.
I glance up and spot Dee and her family.
“Yeah Laney!! Way to go!”
Dee’s jumping up and down holding a sign that says,Yay! You didn’t flat!
A part of me wants to stop and yell at her for even putting that idea into the universe but I don’t. I shake my head at her and jog past.
