Way back in 2009, I volunteered for our local half and full distance race: Beach 2 Battleship. I was assigned the women's changing tent. I helped women out of their wetsuits and into drier, warmer gear. It was cold that day and I remember women of all shapes and sizes in a 8×10 tent in various degrees of undress. Smiling, teeth chattering. One woman came to the entrance, opened the flap of a door, raised her arms & shouted BEST SWIM EVER. Everyone paused for a moment and cheered and then it was back to business. It was a loud, muffled din.
Kona T1 was eleventy times louder. Our changing tent was long and was set on the blacktop of the Kona pier. Athlete voices were triumphant. There was some ordering around. Some barking. Laughing. Volunteer voices were questioning - how can I help, here is your bag? would you like a towel? It was a cacophony of chairs scraping, the clickety-clack of bike shoes. The smell of sunscreen. The humidity of salty bodies. Excitement floated and bounced noisily. It was overwhelming. The color inside was golden. I had showered in the hoses & grabbed my bike gear. Top to toe I undressed: cap, goggles, swim skin. From top to toe I dressed: headband, jersey, camelback, socks, shoes.
I exited the tent and headed to my bike. I clicked the latches of my camelbak as I ran; secured the straw to the magnet. Ace was there as I turned into my bike row. I got to Lana and was grateful that she was upright. I clipped on my helmet & headed out at a good clip. The bike chute seemed to take forever but it was a chance to walk and watch. There were sooo many people-spectators, athletes, staff, volunteers. Everything was so uplifting. I couldn’t wait to get out on the road.
This is what transition looks like.
My hat for the day.
And off I go…