Ed Abrahamson (pictured to the right) has emailed in the following report from the Chicago Triathlon.Ed Abrahamson (pictured to the right) has emailed in the following report from the Chicago Triathlon.
9am and after a light jog and some stretches I was down by the swim start. This was one of the last waves. Around this time, although unbeknownst to me, Aoife was already on the first lap of her cycle, keeping Paul company on his second. I was feeling that uncomfortable combination of nerves and excitement, contemplating what looked like a long swim – this was my first Olympic distance. Looking up, after worries of nearby storms coming in the night before, the weather turned out to be reassuringly cool and fresh. 
The swim was along the lake-front wall, lined with spectators cheering and shouting. It seemed like only a few minutes passed and I was suited up and treading water, the chatty commentator counting us down. I’d over-cautiously positioned myself at the back of the group, swimming being my weakest of the three – a mistake shared by some of the others in our group. The waves were organised by age group rather than ability, and as there were a lot of slow swimmers I was held back. It was maybe three hundred meters before I had some space around me and felt I was making progress. Before long we were mixed up with the stragglers of the wave ahead, and a short time later the fastest swimmers from the next wave had caught up and were pushing through. Still, I did get into a fairly good rhythm and felt quite comfortable. My aim with the swim was to finish it. While the race was generally very well organised, there was a distinct lack of marshals on the swim course and I passed a number of people hanging onto the lake-side wall, clearly wanting to get out. A few brief interludes of breast stroke, as usual, and I pushed on. Getting out of the water at the end I glanced at my watch: 36 minutes, for me, was a good start. The “swim”, however, included a 400 meter run to transition, so my total swim time was over 38. 
My earlier bike-locating rehearsals, although it seemed like a day ago at this stage, stood me in good stead. After a typical sluggish transition (in excess of three minutes) I was off and feeling good. Two lanes of the Lakeshore Drive highway had been closed off in each direction for the bike course. It was a nice cycle, the impressive Chicago skyline towering above, and the course was mainly flat – just a few overpasses along the way. The surface wasn’t great at times and I passed a lot of frantic faces replacing tubes along the median. There was also a bit of a cross breeze blowing, fairly light but constant and I felt it the whole way, never in my favour. With so many competitors there was a constant stream of cyclists ahead and behind, and I was feeling upbeat overtaking so many hard-core looking triathletes with their fancy bikes and gear. At the other end of the spectrum, and much to my amusement, there were some massive asses on bikes! 
The turn-around point came much sooner than I expected. Too soon. Was I travelling at the speed of light? Had I misread my watch? This surely couldn’t make sense… And it didn’t. In my excitement I had forgotten that it was a two lap course! Disappointed, I tool a few swigs of Gatorade and settled back down for the long haul. It was on the return journey of my second lap, when I was actually feeling bored with the cycle, that I heard a voice approaching from behind, then trailing off ahead, “Keep it going Ed, keep it going”. Eoghan Hannigan, one of the other Irish crew, flew past. I glanced down at my feet ashamedly to confirm that I was, in fact, free-wheeling. Eoghan had started two waves after me, but I had always known it was just a matter of time before he’d catch up. I pushed on. 
I racked the bike and was out on the run on 1:59. I considered the situation: I should be able to finish in 2.45, at a push, and having cycled most of the run course a few days previously I knew it was mainly flat. But almost immediately I felt like my legs were going to give under me, my quads in knots. The feeling persisted for the best part of two kilometres. I must have pushed too hard on the bike. To make matters worse, the dreaded sun had finally emerged and was beating down. None of this had been part of my plan, and the 2:45 goal quickly faded. It seemed to take forever to reach the turn-around, and I used every water station as an excuse to slow to a walk – in some cases for a good 30 seconds at a time. And there were a lot of water stations! Each time I picked up to a run again I’d go at a fairly decent pace, trying to compensate, but just couldn’t sustain it. As I rounded the final corner I tried to look sprightly, struggling over the finish line at 2:49:36.
Piranha finish times
| 3081 | Matt Coughlan | 2.27.36 |
| 8092 | Ed Abrahamson | 2.49.36 |
| 4737 | Aoife McArdle | 2.51.07 |
| 3345 | Paul May | 2.53.47 |
| 5584 | John Staunton | 2.53.59 |
| 7125 | Pras Ellanti | 3.39.10 |
PiranhaTri
http://www.piranhatri.com/article.php/20060912212106432