My First (and Only) DNF



Spewage
It was bound to happen.

I haven't been racing very long; this is my fifth year. I had hoped to make it another five before racking up a DNF. Alas, the weather gods (and my own fear of electrocution) conspired against me.

The occasion was the Muncie Endurathon, my first half-ironman distance tri. It was to be a 1.2-mile swim, a 56-mile bike, and a 13.1-mile run. The bike course was relatively flat, which was a huge bonus. My bike skills are lame, so I deliberately selected a flat course for my first attempt. My goal was to finish under seven hours.

It wasn't meant to be. The really nasty thunderstorm that wasn't expected to arrive until 2-3 in the afternoon arrived at around 8am, approximately 2/3 through my swim.

The race officials pushed up the start times, hoping to get everyone out of the water before the storm hit. I was in wave 8 (of 12), and wasn't scheduled to start until 7:40. Instead, our wave started at 7:22. I watched the weather as I was swimming, and knew I likely was not going to be completing my first half-ironman that day. At first it was just a nice sprinkle, then it rained a little harder.

I had rounded the second buoy and was on the third and last leg of the 1.2 mile swim when the thunder started. Because the legs were not even, I was more than 2/3 done. I really wanted to at least finish the swim and get my time, even if I didn't do the rest of the race. So I kept swimming.

A few minutes later the second bolt of lightning cut across the sky, and (apparently) struck the water about a mile away from us. Onlookers said they saw it hit the water and knock up some spray. Well, that's one heck of a motivator! We all could see and hear it, and I heard a lot of shrieking going on behind me. I just put my head down and kept going. By this point I was close enough that it was six-of-one and half-dozen-of-the-other about getting to a boat or to shore.

The next time I looked behind me, all the people that were previously there were gone, save two other swimmers. The boats (flatboats, kayaks, etc.) were converging behind us, herding us in. The rain really started coming down in buckets, so much that I couldn't see across the reservoir or see spectators on shore (yes there were still a few!). Wow. The water started getting mighty choppy from the boats and the wind.

At one point, I spoke to the kayaker next to me, and thanked him for the escort. He told me that everyone behind me had been pulled out of the water, and that I was almost done. I thanked him for being there and letting me swim, and finished.

During the long, windy, wet, noisy trudge back to transition, I chatted with Shirley, who was as wet as I was. Poor thing was completely and thoroughly soaked. She is such a good friend that she was willing to stand around in the pouring rain for at least six more hours if I decided to continue (I'm slow).

We stood around under a canopy for a few minutes, hoping it would blow over. It didn't. Quite a few of us turned in our timing chips and called it a day. The race officials made many announcements that it was up to us, that we could continue at our own risk, the course would still be open with police escorts. A lot of people continued. Most of them were considerably faster than I am, or just crazy. As Shirley said, you wouldn't decide to go for a bike ride in the middle of a thunderstorm! And then run...

Looking at the results, several people actually completed the bike, then quit. I guess that's when the second wave of storms came through. I knew that if I went to the trouble to complete the bike, then I would do the run, too, no matter what. As I stood watching the torrential downpour, I just couldn't make that commitment.

As I was packing up my stuff to go, the lightning continued, reinforcing my decision. I have no regrets about quitting, but have done some research and I think I've found another half-iron to try again, September 6.

By the way, I finished the swim in 52:15, and Sunday's weather was stunningly beautiful.