Long Beach Triathlon: Race Recap

Here I am, in the post-race quiet, reflecting on Sunday’s triathlon and feeling some tight, sore, and tired muscles. I have to admit, there’s less of a post-race high this time around. I was on another plane for 3 days after my half marathon last year. And I’m pretty sure my post-half Ironman high of 2015 lasted a week. Am I proud? Yes. Am I grateful? Yes. Am I elated? Not really. But there also wasn’t an emotional crash. The post-race blues is absent and I’m content - riding in the space between too high and too low. I guess I feel . . . even. And you know what? I welcome that. Taper week was an emotional rollercoaster. I felt as if there were tears waiting in the wings, ready to be unleashed at any moment. Looking back, I realize it was anxiety. It was just manifesting differently than in times past. Luckily, the anxiety washed away in the water, as soon as I swam a few strokes during my warm-up. It felt so good and I knew I was ready.

So, here’s a recap of my first triathlon since becoming a mom of two. On Sunday, July 21, I completed the Long Beach Legacy Triathlon: Olympic Distance. A 0.93 mile swim, a 24.8 mile bike, and a 6.2 mile run. Here’s what happened.

The Swim

There were very few women racing the Olympic distance, so they put us all in a single starting wave (there were three waves for the men). The thought of all the women starting together initially made me nervous, but once we stood on the beach, ready to run into the water, the collective support and enthusiasm excited me. My plan, as always, was to start on the far right and jog into the ocean. I don’t need to sprint. I can let the super fast swimmers start out in front. I knew that we’d pass the first buoy on the right, and then take a left turn around it, so I wanted to stay wide in order to avoid the funneling of swimmers around the buoy. That worked out well, but I still hadn’t found my rhythm after the first turn. I spent a lot of time zigging and zagging, partly because I didn’t do a lot of sight training (where you look forward like a crocodile every few breaths to make sure you’re swimming in the right direction), and partly because the sunrise was somewhat blinding. In those early minutes, I definitely had some unhelpful thoughts: “Oh my goodness, 0.93 miles is a long distance!” “Can I do this?” “Don’t freak out.

However, my thoughts were soon interrupted by genuine confusion. After the second buoy, a lot of yellow caps (my wave) started veering off to the right! They were turning already! What. The. Heck. I caught sight of a guy resting for a moment, so I asked him, “aren’t we supposed to go straight?” He replied “Yep! They’re going the wrong way.” I kept swimming and eventually confirmed with a lifeguard that I was indeed going the right way. She said, “Keep going, then turn right at that distant buoy.” All of those swimmers were cutting the course way short! Well, I knew that I’d be towards the back of my wave now, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to knowingly cheat the course (I don’t think the other swimmers knowingly cheated, by the way. It was just hard to see and the pre-race directions weren’t super clear).

Once I passed the lifeguard, I felt my smooth swim stroke kick into gear. My thoughts started to quiet down and I got into a rhythm. Once I started the trek back, I felt really good. In fact, and this is a big deal for me, I thought, “Oh my! I’m having fun! This is fun!” All of the swimmers had really spread out by now and we were the last Olympic distance wave, so there was no one on our tail. It was just me, a few swimmers, the lifeguards on surfboards for reassurance, and the calm waters. I actually enjoyed myself.

Transition 1 (T1)

I got back to the beach and saw Andrew, the kids, my parents, and my in-laws sprinkled along the route back to Transition. Having them there was everything. 

I got back to my spot and noticed that a lot of bikes on my rack were still there, meaning that there were a lot of women still in the water. OK cool! Nice little boost. 

I took my time in Transition, re-fueled a bit, and then got on my bike as my Dad cheered “Go Dr. Daya Grant!” I realize now how fast he got from the beach to the other side of Transition, to see me mount the bike. Impressive, Dad! He also jested later that he cheered “Dr. Daya Grant” to draw people to my blog. I told him that next time he should yell, “Go dayagrant.com!” Ha.

The Bike

My legs felt super stiff on the bike for the first couple of miles. Stiff and heavy. Then, as I approached the first climb, I noticed a woman laying face down on the side of the road, with her arm pinned underneath her and her bike a couple feet away. Another woman pulled over ahead of me and I thought, “Do I keep going or stop?” There was only one right answer. The first helper called on passing cyclists to get medical support. Then a man approached and asked if he could help the injured athlete flip over. She said, “I don’t think I can move.” So I put my hand on her back and said, “We’re getting you help. Where does it hurt?” She seemed to be in her late 50’s and said, “I feel like I’m going to pass out. I hit my head really hard.” “OK”, I said, “I’m here. Just breathe.” She said “thank you,” followed by, “I feel so stupid. I’m really disappointed. I just didn’t see that ridge.” I told her that I understood and that she’ll get it next time. Another gentleman stopped his bike and told me that he’d wait with her, and that I could keep going. I said, “Are you sure?” He said, “Absolutely. Go race strong.” How nice! But before I grabbed my bike, two EMTs arrived and started tending to the injured athlete. The nice guy and I kept racing - and I’m sure he did as I did, and spent a few minutes hoping that the injured stranger would be OK.

“One more lap!”

The rest of the bike was OK. The Olympic distance triathletes did 4 loops and the Sprint triathletes did 2. That made for a pretty crowded 2nd and 3rd lap, with a lot of us sharing the road. People were pretty conscientious, though, and largely stayed to the right unless passing. One woman passed me and yelled, “Let’s go, girl! Keep up with me!” I chased her for a short while, and then I just couldn’t. Thanks, though. Thanks for the invite. I felt really strong up the hills (there were only 2 little hills per loop), but something was missing on the flats. I felt like I had another gear that I couldn't quite access. Ultimately, the bike left me feeling like I’m capable of more. 

Transition 2 (T2)

Let me tell you, it felt really good to get off the bike. My lower back was starting to talk and I just wanted to be upright. My family was standing at the fence cheering me on in Transition. The woman next to me was finishing gearing up just as I was, so we ran out of Transition together. It’s those little moments of connection that I just love.

The run

The majority of the run was crowded! Olympic and Sprint athletes all on the same course. There was a short stretch where we split, but it really wasn’t that long. While it felt overwhelming at first, I shifted my mindset. I started thinking about how we’re all doing this together. We all have a unique story for why we committed to this physical and mental challenge, and now we’re out here celebrating.

The run was 3 loops on a super flat course. We were running along the bay with views of the Queen Mary. The scenery was quite lovely. On my second loop, I noticed a woman walking. As I passed her, I extended my arm for a fist bump and said, “Let’s go, girl!” She was enthusiastic and affirmed, “Yes!” I ended up passing her again shortly before the finish line. She was doing the Sprint distance. She was walking strong and I said, “I’ll see you at the finish line!” After running a few steps, I started to hear her run. I turned around and said, “Yes! You’re running! You’ve got this!” She said, “You inspired me!” I loved her energy - and I loved another sweet moment of connection on the course.

Cayson (our 7.5 year old) ran with me for a few yards before I entered the finisher’s chute. Thanks, buddy! I loved that. And then, as I always do, I activated my after-burners. I sprinted down the chute with my arms up and a smile on my face. Boom! I did it. My first postpartum triathlon since Ryland was born. A way to honor what my body has been through - and a celebration of what it’s capable of.

Noticing changes

As I walked to meet my family (and their joyous congratulations), I saw the woman I passed a couple times. She asked to take a picture with her “new friend” and I was thrilled. So, here we are. Michelle and Daya - two Black women competing in a sport that is dominated by white men.

And that brings me to this point: Never before have I raced with so many Black triathletes. I usually see a small handful of Black triathletes in these races. But on Sunday, there were a ton of us! Historically, triathlon has not been very diverse. In fact, Sika Henry only became the first Black female professional triathlete in 2021. 2021! Can you believe it took that long?! So, yeah. This was a big deal. Maybe, just maybe, diversity is happening in triathlon. 

Gratitude

Thank you to everyone who supported me on this road back to triathlon. I am so grateful to Andrew for waking up early with me during the week and creating fun weekend mornings for the boys while I trained. And to my family for cheering me on over the past 4 months and on race day - abundant gratitude for the best support system! I’m also thankful for every single one of you who sent a kind note along this journey. We can’t accomplish our goals alone.

Post-race photo with the guy who got me into this sport in the first place. I love you, Andrew!

Final thoughts

So, what’s next? First, I celebrate this win. I thank my body and I honor her with some recovery. But then, this race sparked something. I know I can go faster. I know I can feel stronger. I know I’m capable of more. I’m going to let curiosity lead and devote this next chapter to getting stronger and faster. I’m also going to make time for more yoga, more hiking, and more living room dance parties. Cheers to being content with where we are - and to knowing where we want to go.