Fourth Sucks!

I saw Eric on Monday morning, at the coffee shop where I pick up my morning brew from Pancho. I'd only met him on Saturday evening, down at the Wildflower Triathlon in Pasa Robles, Southern California. He'd done the Long Course as part of a relay team, and they'd all loved it. And so they should: Wildflower is known as "The Woodstock of Triathlon" and is a long-established favourite that has launched - and destroyed - many careers. It is a tough one, with many hills including "heartbreak hill" and the more simply-named "nasty grade". It's a festival atmosphere with camping, rock bands and beer tents, and was one of the "must-do" events for me during this year in the US. When I entered I only considered the fun of the event, and the challenge of the course, but of course now I'm chasing USA Championship qualification so fun and challenge have gone down the priority list for all my events. I'll enjoy them when I look back. On Saturday evening there was something of a festival atmosphere at our little encampment. With 3 spectators and 3 who'd already finished there was beer round the campfire, a BBQ with loads of sausages and other forbidden delights that I couldn't have. I ate alone, early, and boringly. The other noticeable feature of our happy little band was that I was about 35 years older than everyone else. We travelled and camped together - I even slept in a tent with two young girls that I'd not met until that day - but sport was our only common theme. For them, it was basically like going camping with your Dad. So I wasn't taking a very active part in the conversation, and I wasn't taking part in the drinking or eating. I was thinking about my race, preparing myself, visualising the swim, the bike, the run, the transition. I was also ready for bed, when the biscuits, or "cookies" as the Americans call them, came out. "Just the job", I thought. A nice sweet treat before bed. "You don't want one of these" said one of the group. "Oh, I don't know" I responded. "I've had a  couple of the white choc chip ones. It's good carbs and it'll help me sleep." "You won't like these, believe me." "Yes I think I will. I like the dark chocolate" I fought back. If I wanted a bloody biscuit I would bloody well have one. No twenty-something kid was going to give me nutritional advice, especially after the booze they'd had. "Pete," advised my new adversary, "you don't want one of these!" I glanced around and saw some smiles. "They've er, got some special ingredients that might upset your race prep." Aah. I see. Erm, thanks. Goodnight.

So  - back to Eric. "How did you get on?" He asked cheerily. "Were you happy with your result?" I told him I was disappointed, and he asked why. "I came fourth." I thought this was explanation enough, but he looked confused. Eric isn't a triathlete, and he's not chasing qualification, so he didn't get it at all. "Fourth! Wow! Fourth at Wildflower, thats brilliant! Why is that a disappointment?" I felt pretty bad. How can you be disappointed with a sunny, hot, picturesque weekend away in California at a festival-like event where you spent time doing your chosen hobby? How can that not be absolutely great? Well it was, but fourth sucks. I might have been a bit more pleased with a podium, but qualification is what I want. I may be shallow, but when I don't get what I want, I'm not happy. When I'm not happy, I usually let people know. I'm not particularly proud of that aspect of my character, but it's me. And fourth sucks, simple as that. It's made worse by the fact that I thought I'd won when I finished. I'm slow in the swim, so I spend the whole race chasing, and I'd done that very effectively. My new Argon bike performed faultlessly, and was perfect for the course. Nobody came past, from any age group. My run was good, and again, nobody came past from any age group. I was quick through transition, and everyone that I targeted to get past, I did. I had a time of 2:48 which on that course was good. Last year 2:41 won my age group but this year was generally considered to be harder, so I thought 2:48 was enough. It was only later, after an hour of false glory, that I discovered that not only had I not won, but I hadn't made the podium and I had missed US qualification by 90 seconds. Maybe I should have tried one of the magic cookies!