Ok, so I’m guilty of sidelining the point of my travel.

I have written pretty much nothing about how I’m actually feeling as I get ready for this race. Sorry.

I’ve actually been pretty nervous. Not about the race, but nervouse about getting nervous. For instance, before I raced at Hy-Vee in June I was stressed from finals and hadn’t done many races of that caliber and then staying with someone that actually knew all the competitors (JJ Bailey not only knew who was going to be there, but also seems to actually know something about them) really took me off my guard. I’m used to being completely ignorant and apathetic to my competition. I don’t really like to think about them. Some guys, like maybe Macca, can get up and race on rage and anger alone, but I don’t. Not that I can’t, there was this time I was caught making out in the team van at Regionals an hour before I swam the mile. My coach was so pissed he didn’t talk to me before the race, which in turn made me so mad that I knocked out the only best time of the meet (I was 14, and it’s still my best mile time). So I can race mad, but I find it pretty inconsistent, and prone to mistakes. I was once mad at a ref for a DQ at a high school meet, and it preoccupied my mind so much that I started the anchor leg of a 400 free relay at the 50. (After explaining to my teammate why I landed on him, I apologized for causing us to DQ and lose the meet.) So anger’s not my thing, and neither is trying to predict other people.

Now though? I’m not nervous. I was nervous that I would get nervous. I thought that the grandeur of the event and the number of athletes I’ve seen would make me feel somehow different than I have in the past. Like, maybe some emotion would come out that I don’t know how to deal with. But it didn’t. And it won’t. The thing is, there’s nobody here that I’m afraid of. There’s nobody here that I don’t think I could sit down after the race and have a beer with. And the race is nothing new either. I’m completely prepared. I’ve done absolutely everything I needed to as preparation. I’ve put the gas in the tank, all I need to do is turn on the engine.

My college coach, Jim Bolster, used to tell me stupid jokes to calm my nerves at championships meets (I would get REAL nervous there). My favorite was this one that goes like this:

Q: What do you call a fish with no eye’s?

A: FSH.

Ok, so it should be written “no I’s” but then it wouldn’t be funny to read, would it?

So if anything, I’m just ready. I might win. I might be middle of the pack. Somebody might kick my a** out of the water. I may never even have the lead. I may win my wave and be taken down by somebody in a wave that starts after I’m already back in the hotel napping (seriously, the older age groups like 35-39 don’t even start until around 11am and I should be done before 10.). But whatever happens, I’m going to go as fast as I can and leave everything I have on the course. If I do that, there’s nothing I can regret, so why be nervous? I’ve shown a dozen times already this year that I’m capable of leaving it all on the course. It’s just another race.

Alright, fine, so Jim never told me the FSH joke, but the one he did tell me was pretty crude. Maybe I’ll post it after I win. Oh, but if you have a good one for me, it never hurts to have a couple extra. Just in case the nerves kick in tomorrow.

Alright, I’m going to shorten this post and save you the trouble of reading about how we moved from an expensive “budget” hotel, where we were getting two identical rooms, one a “single” and one a “double”, but both with two beds, and where we had a great breakfast, and where wireless internet was free, and where the front desk recognized us and helped us find out way around, and where we were 4km from the start, to a “5-star” hotel (I’m typing this in a white bath robe with matching slippers)where we pay $100 a night more for what they call a “tri” room, which was advertised as “spacious living space and bedroom” and which is just 2 km from the race start, but takes 5 minutes to get to the street (I hate huge hotels), and where I am now sleeping on a cot in the corner of a small room dominated by the two twin beds that my parents occupy, and where it costs $9 an hour for internet (I’m typing this in word), and has no breakfast buffet (I finally found a hot plate and made my own oatmeal this morning, so that wasn’t so bad.). But I’m not going to bother going into any of that.

I’m also not going to waste your time with how Thursday’s Team USA meeting, at the official Team USA hotel, took a train ride plus over a mile walk to get to (starting from the race site) or how I was following a hand drawn map because the hotel is so far from the city center that it wasn’t on any of the printed maps. Or how after the meeting I waited around for the Official Team USA shuttle that takes people to the race course from the Official Team USA hotel, but after standing there for a half hour we were told that it was actually the Official-Team-USA-members-that-booked-through-the-team-usa-travel-agent-for-a-hefty-premium shuttle, and the rest of us could pay to be part of it, but were otherwise on our own (I ended up catching a bus back with Jesse Thomas [the guy who nearly made up a 4 minute gap on me in the run at Nationals], his girlfriend, and lisa or Rebecca or…wow I’m making an ass of myself by forgetting girls names this week…)

I’ll just start by saying I was in a really good mood (actually that’s true, the stuff I neglected to tell you above was nothing against my positive attitude and focus. It was raining, by the way, all of Thursday. Felt like home.

At 6pm I heading out to the open water swim (one of two times they let us into the lake before the race) with my parents. The water was cold, and brown.

And surprisingly it tasted a lot like boat fuel.

Weird.

I missed the team photo. It was taking place as I was getting out of the water, and I decided to eat dinner instead. I’m told Photoshop can make it look like I was there (along with the entire German army). I almost skipped the opening ceremony entirely, but made the choice to stand in the rain and represent my country, for a little while anyway. It was fun. I really do like this whole Team USA stuff. (even if I sound a little bitter above, it’s all in jest; the USAT staff is doing a remarkable job). You get to see every country put on all their team clothing and wave flags around. The pictures speak louder.

I was asked to be in this because of the hat. The UK admitted they were expecting to see mostly out backs in the race.

The young lady in the middle is Peggy MacDougle. She’s gave me the hat last year in Lausanne. There was also a much bigger parade last year, with really nice weather.

See? Peggy and I go way back. (We met in line for packet pickup at ’06 nationals, and it was a long line, so by the time we got our packets we knew each other’s life stories. I won’t say who’s story was longer, but adult children definitely add depth to a story.)

I started a hilarious book called A Long Way Down, by Nick Hornby. It’s about four people that meet on New Years Eve on a rooftop they were all intending to jump off. Sounds like a downer, but it’s pretty funny.

I’ll leave you with this. It’s my mom and a balloon!

Wednesday was the USA Triathlon scheduled packet pickup time. It was shown to be from 2:30 to 5, but I never heard a peep about it from USAT. I figured somebody would be down there, and I was excited to finally see another American.


I was hanging out at the hotel watching Red vs Blue on my laptop, and putting my new BENCOLLINS.ORG stickers on my front fork (Thanks Tai!!!). My parents had left a couple hours earlier, after keeping me from napping by knocking on the door every five minutes. My mom was nicer than my dad, and every time she bugged me she brought a gift, bananas, gum, bread rolls and right before she left she dropped off the key to their room, “in case you need anything from there” She said. It was coming up on 2pm, so I put on some bike clothes and grabbed my backpack. I grabbed by bike to head out, but realized that my bike shoes and helmet were in the rental car, which was in the parking lot, but locked. I grabbed the keys to my parents room, but a thorough scavenger hunt confirmed my suspicion that the key was in my mom’s purse, on her shoulder.

I showed up to accreditation in my tennies and aero helmet at 2:25, was done with packet pickup by 2:30, and then couldn’t figure out what to do next. The ride down was simple enough, I just stayed on the marked “bike paths”, which are red brick routes on the sidewalk, designed specifically to test the tightness every bolt on the bike. I was a little nervous because a month ago I had discovered that some parts on a bike need to be REALLY tight, or your handlebars will rotate down, just before your seat comes loose, your brake turns and starts rubbing, and the front wheel starts turning separate from the handlebars – and that (I’m not saying it did) could happen about an hour into a 2 hour ride, forcing you to either find a bike shop for a pit-stop, or ride standing up against the rear brake with your hands near the stem and using your body weight alone to turn the bike. (now that I look back, I think those are exactly the same things I taught 4th graders to check before riding when I was a Bike Ed instructor).

My bolts are all tight enough. They passed the test.

One other thing that really surprised me on my ride. I was approaching an intersection, and I saw a UPS truck with a right turn signal on right beside me. I slowed down, expecting the UPS truck to make a strong attempt at vehicular homicide, but instead the driver stopped, and waved me on. “This is a trick” I thought. But another bike passed me and flew across the road with the bravery of a Odysseus. No trick. Whoever does the hiring for UPS North America should really get some interview ideas from UPS Europe.

This morning (Thursday) I rode the course again. This time there were orange arrows all over it! There were also about 250,000 diesel engines shooting black soot down my throat. That can’t be good for the VO2 max.

I’m off to my last breakfast at the Hotel Helgoland. We’re moving to a slightly closer, much more expensive hotel, where we can pay extra for a not-so-good breakfast, wi-fi, and one room for the three of us (right now we have two rooms, a double and a single, which are identical.) I can’t wait to kick my dad out of the room when he starts snoring.

Today is the parade of nations, a Team USA meeting, and I should be able to swim on part of the course too. I’ll take pictures and post them tomorrow.

Yesterday (Tuesday) I followed the posted directions for a bike route. According to the race website there were supposed to be two different routes posted, which were to start from the swimming hall (the 50m pool I’ve been swimming at). I showed up at 8am with my bike, ready for a good ride, and was stoked to see a bright orange sign with an arrow that said “Cityman Triathlon”.

I startd off spinning down the bike path (the sidewalks here all have red bricks on one side that marks the bike path). A half block later I hit an intersection, and there was sign #2 indicating that I go straight. Excellent. A block later, another orange sign, still pointing straight. “Somebody did a great job of posting.” I thought. Half a block later, sign number four, indicating that I should continue down the block. “that’s overkill” I thought. Then I hit a 5 way intersection; no sign. Continue reading “Lytunksvasser*”

Monday we (meaning my parents) decided to drive north to see the German coast where Germans take vacations (this explains a lot about their culture). I used my forerunner to plot out the trip, so I could just show you rather than trying to explain exactly where we went. (click on the image below)

View Larger Map

The drive there was a little scary. The last time I was on the autobahn was in 7th grade. It scared me then, and it scares me now. (My dad too)

Continue reading “Holiday in Germany”

I went for a swim yesterday at a 50m pool near the race sight. I got lost on the way there (it seems strange to call it lost when I didn’t know where I was to begin with), and after finally finding it, I paid 5,60 in Euros, received a black coin and was let into the building. I walked into the locker room, which had cameras pointing right at me. Didn’t really matter where I stood, there were enough cameras to cover the whole area. And the women in the locker room cleaning the floor and emptying trash cans didn’t even seem to notice the naked men prancing to and from the shower room. I changed and went to the pool deck. Nobody seemed to care about the black coin I’d received, which is good because by the time I hopped in the pool I’d already lost it.

The pool was gigantic. There was a large water slide, diving boards, platforms, sauna… Continue reading “One way”

This buffet is legendary. I took pictures this morning (though somehow I neglected to photograph the fruit dish. It wouldn’t have been that impressive though, because I put a real hurt on it.). There’s the Yogurt bar,

the granola bar,

and the meat bar.

There’s also a basket of hard boiled eggs, bacon and eggs, and (you guessed it) a bowl of Nutella.

Here’s what I made on one trip. (Those are deviled eggs with shrimp.)

I learned the importance of presentation or “preso” from Greta Pokorny.

It’s 6am. I’m sitting waiting for the breakfast buffet at the Hotel Helgoland, which is were I’m staying, but not where I made reservations. I just slept for `10 hours after what may have been the crankiest day I’ve ever seen my parents have. I’ll leave out tales of bickering and short tempers because I’d rather they weren’t remembered, and there was very little humor in it. (With the possible exception of seeing my dad sitting in the back seat, nodding off and shouting driving directions.)

Travel day 8/24:

6am PST: Woke up in hopes of taking a quick jog, packing my carry-on (I’m a big time procrastinator), and petting my cat before we leave at 8.

8am PST: I start wondering why my parents are awake yet. That’s when I figured out my flight was two hours later than I thought. So what do I do with 2 extra hours?

10:30am PST: I’ve finished packing more stuff, checking email, and eating a second breakfast. We pack the car and head out at 11am.

11:35am PST: The lady at the NWA Check in informs us we may miss out flight. Something my father is terrified of, and which creates more stress on top of what travel forces us to deal with already.

1pm PST: Our flight leaves, with us on it. The flight is about 9 hours, in which time I had planned on sleeping. So had my parents, but that’s not what happened. My dad stayed up talking to an older lady the entire flight. At one point I was stretching and practicing my high kicks with the flight attendants Continue reading “Deutschland”