Jimbaran, Bali Indonesia Generic Events 90F / 32C Sunny

Total Time = 4h 16m 48s Overall Rank = 135/144 Age Group = F 30-34 Age Group Rank = 9/10

WARNING/AWAS! THERE HAS BEEN REPEATED SERIOUS DISREGARD FOR ATHLETE SAFETY AND NEEDS ON THIS COURSE IN PRIOR YEARS WHICH HAS NOT BEEN ADDRESSED AND RESULTED IN NUMEROUS ATHLETES INJURED OR UNABLE TO FINISH THE RACE. TAKE CAUTION IN SIGNING UP FOR THIS RACE UNTIL ORGANISERS HAVE PUBLISHED SPECIFIC AND DETAILED INFORMATION ABOUT CORRECTING THESE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEMS.

This was triathlon crossed with surprise ending, Hollywood-style gala, safari, ultra-Survivor MacGyver-esque adventure racing, and tropical paradise. Bear with me on this astonishing journey. At least just scan the photos. You, like I, will be amazed that a triathlon like this even exists.

It was a miracle I got off the ground from L.A. I haven't really trained the last couple months, and had (not really) recovered from flu when I got on the plane. All’s to be gotten for bikes in Bali are rusty old mountain bikes, so I had to take my own. $300 for a bike case?! God bless Cake Boyfriend, who, despite working 12-hr labor days, 7 days a week, made me the world’s most durable bike case. God bless Spokes, who talked him through how to get the pedals off so we could get the bike in the case. And God bless Evan, the Malaysian Airlines check-in rep at the airport, who did not charge me a cent overage for this gigantic clanking piece of luggage.

I arrived Thursday night dead tired. I put some pieces of Chelsea together best I could, then crashed.



Friday morning, it was a mad dash to throw the remaining pieces in the taxi (do we have all of them?) … and it turned out my cabbie had been a bike mechanic! He was so awed by the bike that he was happy to work with it for free (I threw in a gargantuan tip, of course). We still caught the tail end of the bike blessing … this is where competitors are wrapped in sacred sarongs and headpieces, and a Hindu priest makes offerings and blesses you and your bike for the race. If you’d ever seen Balinese traffic, you would not pursue this bike course unblessed!

A wonderful bit about this race is that they have planned activities and parties (all included) around the entire weekend, where the banter is light and you quickly make new friends. Friday morning (which I didn’t do) was a guided bike course tour (by the pros, with police escort), but I did go on the group swim Friday afternoon, led by Brennan (of Generic Events, whom I knew from L.A.) pointing out the course, the transition area, talking and answering questions about the race.



This was the beginnings of the finish arch. Some neighborhood kids had coopted it as goalposts for their beach soccer game.



Friday evening was a beachside/poolside cocktail party with the yummiest Indonesian hors d’oeuvres.



I found Jack Daniels (yes, his real name), the CEO of the title sponsor … and a family friend for the last 35 years who kindly sponsored me in this tri. We had a lengthy conversation, during which he proposed to me my Next Big Step and how to go about starting it, and that he’d be willing to sponsor me for that, too. This has nothing to do with tri, so I won’t include details in this laughably long race report, but I realized, at that moment, that my destiny—not just my next direction in life, but my ultimate destiny—was beginning to unfold. I already knew that this trip—sparked by Jack’s offer to my sister to have me come over and do the tri—would usher in the sea change; I just didn’t expect it to happen at a beautiful cocktail party for a triathlon!

I also spoke with a delightful, relatively unknown Aussie pro named Sophie Hawken who had gotten the worst burn over most of the underside of her upper arm—she’d been on antibiotics, but this wound still looked terrible and infected. She was still planning to race, however, despite that part of your arm rubbing against your body during most of the race.

I also met Agnes, who after a midlife crisis in her 50s, decided to learn how to swim, and then started tri-ing. Within 5 years, she had completed 5 Ironmans, including Kona (which she qualified for), Malaysia (of great interest to me), and Lanzarote (with 3000+ meters of climbing) … so I was a little nervous when she said the bike course here was challenging. It turned out, interestingly enough, that we had met nine months before at a barbecue at my brother’s house. (This is Ag and I later on with our LUCKY race numbers!)



All cameras and videos were popping on Luke McKenzie, who had just won IM Japan, and his girlfriend Amanda Balding, an up-and-coming IM pro who got into tri after two bouts with cancer. Between pops, I sidled on over and played the simpering fan. I hoped for brief introductions and a photo or two. But like everyone else I chatted with, I wound up making new friends. We spent the rest of the party talking—turns out we have mutual friends and live in the same corner of the world. Actually, what brought them laughing to tears were stories about Oceanside and Elvis, and what brought me to tears was that they’d spent all of their luggage allowance and then some bringing tri equipment for Indonesians who didn’t have any. Luke went all the way back to their villa to fetch a card for me and their camera, so they could have pics with me! (Umm, guys, can you e-mail me those shots?)




Luke described the bike course as tough. I exclaimed, “You really don’t need to be telling me that!” He shrugged, and added, “Oh, and watch out for this hill after a sharp left turn. It’s short, maybe 400m or so [GAH!!!], but really steep.” My eyes bugged out. “Wow, like, what grade?” He replied with a pained face, “I don’t know … steeeeep.” (This is Luke and Amanda studying the bike course).



Agnes and I were invited to come along to the organizers/VIP dinner, which was held at a seafood restaurant right on the beach. We jumped into a cab, and—remember there are millions of people and thousands of cabs on Bali—it was my bike cabbie from the morning! At dinner, I sat next to Luke and Amanda and we got to swap more war stories. The string band was awesome—they could play absolutely anything requested, so someone got bold and asked for Santana—and by golly that lead player could do Santana. Well.



The next day, Saturday, was packet pickup, last-minute bike fixing, race briefing, and athlete’s banquet, again right on the beach. This beautiful boy walked in with a day-glo Pinarello, so of course I walked right up and introduced myself—and made another friend. Nobody was snobby in this race—the whole thing was successfully geared as a unifying adventure, especially since nearly everyone had traveled to get there.



I’d forgotten cleaner and lube, so I had the race mechanics clean the bike and all the parts, tune it, do last-minute fitting adjustments with me … which all cost … drum roll … with a giant tip, $2.50. Weep!

The mandatory race briefing was very helpful and included a blow-by-blow of the bike course, with maps. Brennan and Rob, with translators, fielded questions and invited any others to approach them personally after.

The banquet was so beautiful, laid out on circular tables with white linens and silverware and goblets by the beach. The food was sumptuous and plentiful—both Indonesian and Western fare, all included in the race fees.

My sis and I both run late, so together, we wind up being super late. I got to transition a full 15 minutes before starting time!



Good thing this is my 10th tri--I threw my stuff down in loose order, grabbed my cap and goggles and--oh shyte, I need to pump my tyres! Everyone has already gone down to the beach, but the bike mechanics come to my rescue--I literally heaved my bike and money at them, and ask them to rack it for me. These were the quaint racks (taken the night before):



Now that's trust--and they did marvelously (considering I manage to rack my own bike the WRONG DIRECTION every time). I trot down to the beach barefoot and get right into the water to warm up for approximately 20s before the race starts (okay, I got a full 2 min.)



As I'm coming out of the water, Amanda left the pro section to come up and wish me good luck in the race! I walked back with her and spoke briefly with Sophie, who was looking very pale, with her arm extensively bandaged. I asked how the burn was doing. She said it really hurt. I touched her on her other arm and said, "Sophie, it's going to hurt no matter what. You're really tough for even doing this race. Just make everything else hurt worse and the arm won't matter." I don't know if that was terrible advice, but for a brief moment she looked relieved, and I sent her strength-vibes throughout the course whenever I thought of her. She went on to place third.

This was an extremely competitive triathlon. It's a super-tough-course oly distance, it's on a remote island that everyone flew to get on and brought bikes to, so it's not like you're gonna get a bunch of locals who just want to try tri. Luke did not post the fastest run time (both 2nd/3rd finishers did faster), two age groupers (both in my AG, of course) came in ahead of the pros--Amanda didn't even place, and Agnes the KQer/Lanzarote veteran who always comes 1st in her AG (55-59, not known as a particularly fierce lot) came in THIRD, fercryinoutloud. I was just happy to be allowed to play, DFL or no! That said, they left the finish line up, staffed, for SIX HOURS so that Lucien, a friend of ours who had major problems on the bike, could finish.