INSIDE THIS ISSUE
OCTOBER 2008
TCSD Contacts Volunteer Members Board Members Event Calendar Race Discounts
TRIATHLON CLUB OF SAN DIEGO
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Weekly Workout Calendar REAL Beginners Bike Ride Ironman Conversation
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At The Races Application
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TriNews
The Last Man Standing PHOTOS NEEDED FOR NEWSLETTER MASTHEAD
A Tale of Fiction By: Barbara Javor If it hadn’t been for the accident several months earlier, she knew this day would have passed quicker and with less pain. left the water with only minutes to spare before the cut-off time, she glanced back and saw a few other stragglers still in the water. One down, two to go.
New images are needed for the next printing of TriNews. Action, individual and group shots welcome. Make sure you’re wearing your TCSD colors. Please submit hi-res digital images to Dean Sprague, newsletter production. (see volunteer list for email address)
OCTOBER CLUB MEETING Guest and date pending. Check TCSD website for updates.
It
would have been painful, yes, but not plagued by the nagging reminders of a separated shoulder and broken ankle bones that weren’t fusing correctly. Still, she counted her blessings that she could even line up to start the Ironman triathlon at 7:00 AM, let alone expect to finish it. This was the present she had promised herself for her fortieth birthday, and she wasn’t about to let a few physical infirmities stop her. She struggled through the swim, mostly stroking with one arm and dog-paddling with the other to protect the bad shoulder. As she
Her bike was equipped with a special bar on the right pedal that clasped her leg above the knee and allowed a pedal stroke with little pressure on her right ankle. For the first fifty miles, she kept a moderate pace with no one passing her. Then came the hill from hell where most cyclists climbed out of the saddle. She had to dismount and lean on the bike as a crutch and limp up the hill. The second loop of the bicycle course slowed her even more, and the stragglers came from behind and passed her. She refused to look at her watch and worry about the time. This is my race. Reality hit at 105 miles into the bike ride when a race marshal rode up to her in a truck and announced the bike course was closed— the cut-off time had passed. “Let me ride the last 7 miles,” she pleaded, and they let her go. This is my race. In the transition area, other volunteers told her she was disqualified and couldn’t start the continued page 3