Triathlon, Near Tragedy, Indecent Exposure

This morning I was awakened at 7:30 by a such a clatter, I threw open the window to see what was the matter. (That sounds vaguely familiar.) There was no traffic on Davie Street. There was a crew putting up portable fencing and yelling at each other. It was my introduction to a fairly frequent(in the summer, at least)Vancouver activity known as the dreaded URBAN RACE.

This time it was the World Cup Triathlon. Swim a whole bunch of miles, bike another whole bunch of miles and run a last, exhausting six miles. Why, I asked myself, had I not heard about this? It was not very well published. I rubbed the sleepy dust out of my eyes and since I was already up I decided to go early for my workout.

The first problem was I could not get to the other side of Davie Street to walk to my fitness club. I had to beg one of the workers to let me through. After I promised him my first-born son (ha! fooled him, like that's gonna happen at my age)he let me through. Muttering grumpily under my breath I stomped to my club.

After a workout, in a better mood with all the endorphins flowing, I headed home. Again I was stopped by the portable fence. So I stopped into a bakery and had a coffee and a chocolate croissant(still warm from the oven)while I watched the competitors zip by on their bikes. My, they go at quite a speed. Zip, zap and they were out of sight. A few minutes later, another group of six or eight whiz by.

All of a sudden I noticed an old lady standing right in the middle of the race course. She had white hair and wore a plaid poncho and was consulting a guide book as she crossed the intersection. I held my breath as I watched, knowing it was just a matter of time until the next group of bikers came barrelling down Davie. The Prairie Crocus saw, in slow motion, a bike collide with her,and in a domino effect more bikes and athletes one after another crashing into the tangled mess and bikes, tourist and athletes all tumbling over each other crashing into the fence? Would the race end in tragedy on the six o'clock news?

Well, no. She got across the intersection unscathed and wandered over to the beach oblivious to the near catastrophe. But she could have been hurt. To the race organizers: NOT ENOUGH P.R. I'm just saying.

About those triathlon athletes. There's not an ounce of fat on any of them. The men are very buff. They wear those skimpy little unitards that leave little to the imagination - anything less and they'd probably be arrested for indecent exposure.

And the women - well, let's just say some of them look like men. I hear that elite women athletes often stop having menstrual periods because they have no fat to store estrogen. Mother nature's way of saying, "You've gone too far." Seems just a tad extreme to me.

The story has a happy ending. The winner of the men's race was a Canadian, Victoria's Simon Whitfield http://www.cbc.ca/sports/amateur/story/2007/06/10/whitfield-vancouver-triathlon.html And in two weeks - the VANCOUVER MARATHON! Whoopeee. I think I'll put in some earplugs and sleep all day.

So, it's good night from me and it's good night from me. Take care!

You don't suffer, kill yourself and take the risks I take just for money. I love bike racing.
Greg LeMond