NorCal Cycling News

KatieKelly’s story about taking a digger at the start of swim legged triathlon got me thinking about my own personal bouts of embarrassment and tri-geekery.This is a story a few of you have heard … but, this is the first time i’ve written about it.  So, don’t make too much fun of me, yo.

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KONA IRONMAN … uh, late 90’s i think.

I’ll admit it … i was trigeek.  Serious like a heart attack on this one - i loved me some multi-sport and could not get enough of those TV specials that had men and women groveling across finish lines … the drama, the personal triumph, the accomplishments of regular you’s and me’s ~ it was captivating.  and, i wanted it more than anything.

From the get-go, i’ve been a cat who loved to suffer.  If not running until my feet bled, it was getting my head beat in by the hoods of jungle-ball where i spent waaaaay too much time under influence.  But when i found triathlon … oh my, oh my … that was a taste i had a hard time getting out of my mouth.

bitter sweet, indeed.

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Back in the late 90’s, it was still pretty difficult to qualify for Kona.  I’d won a race in Colorado, i think, and took my ticket to the big island … getting there a week before the event to try and acclimate a bit to the weather and terrain.

it was pretty cool.

Well, unfortunately, i made the very, very bad decision of going snorkeling with someone the day before the race.  Now, snorkeling might be the perfect way for other folks to relax and recover for an ironman … but, i guess my body really does love to suffer, because it took the chance of being on a boat rolling the open seas for a few hours to tell me that … sea sickness hurts.

a lot.

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We’d left the harbor and all was fine - the day was bright, winds breezy but controllable, and big, beautiful swells to flotilla our asses up and over, up and over, up and …. ergh.

I’ve been a desert rat, or mountain boy most of my life.  But, i’ve also lived on oceans and spent more than enough time splashing around surf scenes to call ‘bullshit’ that any group of surfers would EVER have it together long enough to plan out bank robberies … let alone get caught dead with anything to do with keanureeves.  but i digress.

So, even though i’m a swimmer, and even though i’m a fan of water salted or fresh … i had never been on a big-ass boat that swept up and over swells like some rollercoaster clip stuck on repeat.  UP and DOWN, went the boat, up and down.  And about 20 minutes into our FOREVER-long ride out to wherever-the-frack the snorkeling was … i started to feel it.  Sea SickNess.

At first, it was an uncomfortable set of feelings low in the rumble-strips of the stomach.  They burbled, they gurbled, they started to rebel.  Never having had seasickness before, i was a bit confused as to what was happening.  “Was it something i ate?  Is this normal? … ok, where’s the bathroom…”

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Snorkeling in Hawaii is sort of like going to the mall.  You’re surrounded by fellow tourists, crowded in a small’ish area, and never really sure where the bathrooms are.  Well, as the boat splished and splooshed onward towards whatever the hell idyllic destination they’d plotted out, my stomach began to growl and gurgle in ways that had me clutching rails and causing looks from other passengers.

“are you ok, man?”   yeah, [gasp] but, where’s the bathroom? 

Some guy pointed me towards a wee-little door situated under the cabiny-thing that served as the captain’s driving spot.  I looked at the door, saw what appeared to be some universal graphic for poo, and dashed for it.   Now, some may know that i’m pretty much a clean freak.  Not so much around the house, but in regards to personal hygiene.  I just really don’t like being dirty, or smelly, or caked in anything other than sexy-talk and harmless flirtations.

And so, the prospects of hurling in public were … well, mortifying to be honest.  The bathroom was but a few strides away and a sense of relief came over me as i made it to the knob without tossing cookies … but tunnel vision had set in and panic was rising.  A quick turn of the knob and rushing in would give me all the privacy i needed to … deal with the situation.

{click}

Locked.  Shit.

Turning around in full spasms of panic, it dawned on me that there was a very, very real and imminent danger of me losing it in public.

I needed a plan, i needed help, i needed to … and as the micro-seconds of processing these thoughts occured … that’s when this cute-as-hellokitty japanese kid walked straight up to me.  I’m not sure if he had been watching my body groans or just wanted to use the bathroom, or was just bored and messing about … but, there he was right in front of me, right in the way, right in … the line of fire.

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And i projectile vomited all over that kid’s face.

I mean … knocking his head back with the force of the blast … kind of vomit.

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oh crap. that was embarrasing.

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