The cannon went off and my heart went with it. I'd practiced this swim a hundred times in the safety of the Y pool, but Millennium Lake at 7 a.m. is a different animal — cold, churning, and full of elbows.
By the first buoy I was last. Not near-last. Last. The kind of last where the kayakers start paddling a little closer, just in case. And here's the thing nobody tells you: it was fine. Better than fine. Every single person I passed on the bike had already finished their swim and still hollered my name off the back of their bib.
The Three Bees tent was at the dismount line, and I swear they were louder for the last-place swimmer than the race leader. Someone handed me a gel I didn't ask for. Someone else just yelled “YOU'RE A FISH NOW” which made zero sense and somehow carried me up the hill.
I didn't win anything. I wasn't close. But I crossed that line with a crew screaming like I'd taken gold, and that's the part I'll be chasing next season.
“Last out of the water just meant the most people got to cheer me in.”
If you're on the fence about your first tri: do it. Be last. Be slow. Be terrified. Just don't be alone — this crew won't let you be.
