The 9th Annual Louie Bonpua Memorial Triathlon

Today I did something incredible. By any other person's standards, it would probably be considered a walk in the park or piece of cake. And quite rightly so. Triathlons can be an exhilarating, fun, 'day of working out' that comes easy and/or natural to people who have been fit all their lives. Especially people who have either grown up swimming like fish, or riding their bikes for as many years as they've been walking.

But for me, today's accomplishment encompassed so much more.

I had worked up so many butterflies all last week, anticipating "my very first tri". But by the time I pulled up to our race location this morning, much of it dissipated and I just became set on focusing on the day at hand. We were greeted by the most beautiful sunrise. You could definitely feel Louie's spirit present among all of us.



I carefully set up my transition, with the help of Melissa ~ who also assured me we had this 'in the bag' (no pun intended). And after shooting that last Gu, we headed over to the pool to start our swim.



1500 yards (or 60 laps) was our distance. A distance I'd NEVER before swam. We were told we'd have some help counting our laps, and that someone would hold a bright blue kickboard in the water, to indicate our last lap. So we were off! I split a lane with someone from the Silicon Valley Ironteam, who is currently training to complete TWO Ironmans in the course of this year. So needless to say, I had a fish swimming right next to me. But I continued on -- not rushing or getting worked up or worrying about the others around me. Just keeping a steady and consistent pace. Stroke after stroke, I felt like I was getting progressively more fluid and stronger. I could even hear the voices of my good friends, Megan C, Lindsay, Olivia, Megan B & Dori -- cheering my name (as I bobbed my head up for half a second to start the next consecutive lap). Hearing them cheer my name gave me the momentum to make that next lap even stronger and smoother.



After losing count at about 30-something laps, I decided not to worry or even fuss with asking how many I had left to go. I made a conscious decision to just focus on my stroke, enjoy it, get a good rhythm going, and swim until I saw that kickboard. It wasn't long before I felt this tapping on the top of my head as I bobbed up to start another lap. It was Coach Dave: "Maria, you were done 25 yards ago! Out of the pool!" Where was that kickboard? I'll never know. But I ended up swimming slightly farther than necessary, completely unbeknownst to me :)

Total swim time: 0.9 miles (1500 yds) in 0:38:52
Estimated T1: ~0:10:00

So I hopped out and headed over to T1 (swim-to-bike transition). My legs were like JELL-O, and the prospect of clipping into my bike and actually riding off into the distance weren't necessarily at 'piece o' cake' status for me. I calmed my nerves at the starting line for the bike course, chatted briefly with Coach Mike to get my bearings, and off I went.

I was out riding, fully clipped in! Into residential streets, into traffic, clipping out carefully at stop signs, merging into left turning lanes, descending the mini-hills, some roads with bike lanes, other roads definitely without. I couldn't BELIEVE IT! And then. Came the real hills. They call this area (right around the city of Martinez), "Pig Farm Hill," infamous for this long stretch of a steep hill where atop you'll be greeted by this old farm formerly known to sell pigs (and smell like them). I climbed this hill like there was no tomorrow. The thing you have to know about clipless pedals is that once you stop pedaling, you will fall. It's just a given. So when you decide to climb a hill (as my friend, Olivia, would coin it), "you have to commit to it". Legs fatiguing, quads burning, heart racing, (sunglasses fogging up from all the heat rising), you climb. As slow as it'll take you, you climb. And that's exactly what I did.

As I climbed, I thought of Louie. I thought of Louie Bonpua (for whom this triathlon honors and remembers, annually), who must have climbed these very hills ~ or perhaps steeper and harder ones like it during his own Ironman training. And he did it while battling cancer. He did it persistently, aggressively, and successfully. And that's not just something to be 'wow-ed' by, but to be truly inspired by. And to be inspired is to follow an example. This was the hardest hill climb I'd ever done, to date, and I made it through by thinking about the positive examples in my life. Of people who have hardships literally in front of them, and who tackle them head-on. No running away. No matter how scared or apprehensive you are, you face it and you make it OVER that hill or obstacle. Or in my mind at the time, you work your way through the hill that's in front of you.



Soon after, was the descend. I have no idea how fast I was going, but I can tell you it was enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone who's never gone down a hill on a bike before. Parts of this descend were honestly fun. I could loosen my grip on the brakes, and just enjoy gliding down. Until I'd remember I was on a public road and that a line of cars could be coming down (or up) that hill at any moment. I continued to speed down it, wind in my face, increasing in more speed. It started to become scary. All I could tell myself were these words: Let go, and trust yourself, Maria. Let go, and trust yourself. And sure enough, I made it down that hill. A little shaken, but successful. I had to take a moment at the waterstop to collect myself again, but soon after, trudged on. Three miles later was the turnaround point. Several descends later (which were miniscule compared to the one I just described) and then the rain came down. It rained, but I still rode. Rode back to the starting point feeling fulfilled, victorious and excited for the run. The rain was the LAST of my worries or concerns. I was at peace with myself and definitely at peace with the bike. I rode just over 27 miles today (my farthest ever, to date), from Pleasant Hill to Pinole and back, clipped-in, hills conquered and ready to run.

Estimated total bike time: 27.4 miles in ~2:35:00
Estimated T2: ~0:5:00

So, they don't call 'em BRICKS for nothin'. The transition from bike to run is typically known as a brick. And rightly so, because as opposed to the JELL-O sensation after the swim, your legs are as heavy as a ton of bricks after the bike, and trying to pick up one leg after another for a run AFTER nearly 30 miles of riding (including those hill climbs) is quite the challenge. Nevertheless, I was greeted by the friendly faces of Coaches Sedonia and Simon at the run ~ followed by training captain Nick and my mentor, Michelle, along the course -- and slowly but surely, the bricks loosened in my legs, and I started to run just fine. I kept an average of about 11/12-minute miles, which felt comfortable and steady for me. That run became a blur, because before I knew it, I was coming up on my last mile of the race.

During those last few minutes, I took stock of a lot of things. Part of which was looking back on the bike ride. One of my insights (now speaking from the other side of the fence) is that you really learn a lot about yourself during a long bike ride. I think the 'hill story' paints that well. But it was actually the whole race. You learn to trust and really believe in yourself. I picked up two very different (and by my own definition, foreign) sports in the last two and a half months that I not only learned how to do properly -- but managed to complete at an endurance race level. And as you can see by my times ~ I really took all the time I wanted and needed. For me, the priority was finishing strong and not overexhausting myself. And I'm glad I did it this way for my first tri.

I've often heard the finishes of endurance races can be very emotional for some, and was even told by a good friend of mine, Lynn, that I'd probably tear up upon reaching the finish line. At these last few steps of the run course, I rolled my eyes and said, "Oh please. I'm just finishing up a run, and this was just one of our practice tris. Hardly something to get all choked up about."

But once I turned the last corner of my run, after the 1500-yd swim, after the 27-mile bike -- the entire flurry of emotions, remembering how hard I've been working on the bike, all the time I'd put in on my swim stroke and upping my running cadence, during such a short, concentrated amount of time -- came hurling at me. There was a giant crowd of my teammates waiting at the finish line for me, cheering and yelling. I lost it. I crossed that finish line so incredibly proud of myself. I hadn't realized how hard I had been working all this time, to reach a high point as amazing and self-fulfilling as this. I completed my first Olympic-distance triathlon, and gained so much more out of this experience than I ever would have imagined.

Estimated total run time: 5.4 miles in ~1:00:00

Estimated total race time: 33.7 miles in ~4:30:00



A huge thanks to all the volunteers & staff who contributed their time, resources, energy and enthusiasm out on the course today. All mentors, coaches, captains -- I could not have made it this far without your guidance and encouragement. And to Louie, and all those who've dared to push their own limits, exceed their own expectations and have become true heroes in the eyes of people like me -- an ordinary girl, now with aspirations of becoming an Ironwoman: Thank You.

Coaches' Feedback:

"I don't know who that girl was in the water...but she is an entirely new athlete!!! You should be the poster child for dedication, commitment and progress. You have come so far and as you have more opportunities to ride you will only gain more confidence!" -Sedonia

"You are truly amazing! I absolutely couldn’t be any more proud of one of my athletes. You rocked today! I definitely consider today a complete success for you. You performed even better than I hoped, and you showed HUGE courage and tenacity. I am so proud to be your coach and teammate." -Mike