INSIDE THIS ISSUE
JUNE 2011
TCSD Contacts Board Members Volunteer Committee Weekly Workout Calendar Member Profile
TRIATHLON CLUB OF SAN DIEGO
2 2 2 5 5
New Members TCSD Conversation It’s the Law Race Reports
6 7 10 12
TCSD Cares Update Coach’s Corner: Nutrition Safety First Made with Kashi
16 18 19 20
TriNews
A Tale of Fiction
JUNE BEGINNER TRIATHLON June 18th Saturday, 7:00 am Location: Glorietta Bay, Coronado
JUNE AQUATHLON Thursday June 23th 5:00 pm check-in begins 5:45 pm course talk 6:00 pm race start time Location: La Jolla Shores
JUNE CLUB MEETING TBD
Refer to the Club’s website for the latest details.
panish Landing, a seaside park in a protected arm of San Diego Bay, always elicits a feeling of history and discovery in me—except during the annual June triathlon that takes place there. I always panic during the swim, never able to complete the course without stopping to tread water at least once. I’ve vowed to conquer the flat-water swim in the bay Juan Cabrillo entered on September 28, 1542. I decided the best way was to practice it repeatedly until I gained confidence. On a warm Sunday in September, I headed to Spanish Landing for a solo workout. I felt history in the sea breeze as I donned my wetsuit and entered the water intent on swimming an out-and-back course close to the shoreline. The first loop took about fifteen minutes, and without the pressure of racers around me, I completed it with no problems. Bolstered with that success, I set out again for a longer and fasterpaced loop. Sighting on a buoy occasionally, everything was fine until whap!—the back of my skull exploded with blackness and bright, shooting stars. “Sorry,” someone said. “We didn’t see you.” I spun around to find a racing scull with a
By Barbara Javor
number of oarsmen gazing at me. “Are you all right?” one of them asked. I felt a knot forming underneath my swim cap. “I think so.” I turned my head back and forth to make certain nothing felt painful, and tested movement of my arms and legs while I treaded water. Everything seemed to be working normally. When I repeated I was okay, they continued rowing. I decided to continue my workout and turn around at the buoy near the entrance to the open bay. I put my head in the water and started stroking—left, right, left, right. The rhythm seemed right, but my head felt a bit like a wad of cotton. If I could swim after being battered by an oar, surely I could survive flying elbows and kicking feet during a triathlon. This would be a good test of my mettle. I sighted on the target buoy again, figured it would take about five minutes to round, and continued swimming. After what seemed like only a few minutes, I heard a booming voice. I looked up. “Ahoy, me lad! What’s a bilge rat like you doing in the water? Aaaargh.” continued on page 23