A Tale of Two Cities, part 1

Wecome to Miami! It all started on Fri. with a 5:00 a.m. call from US Scair, telling me my flight was cancelled, and since it was Spring Break, all flights were booked 'till the following week. Not easily dissuaded, I convinced them to fly me into Ft. Lauderdale (AKA Ft. Liquordale during Spring Break) and shuttle me down to MIA....Fast forward to Race Day...Left the hotel @ 4:00 a.m. to beat the traffic...late night revelers stumbling back to the hotel lobby were surprised to see the grey haired guy in Headstrong kit shuffling through the lobby with a small sporting goods store supply of swim, bike and run gear....body marked with race numbers, I mark my territory as I set up my transition area in the pre-dawn darkness, going through my setup checklist for the 23rd time (goggles, wetsuit, SRM computer, spare sew-up, CO2, gels, shades, race belt/number, running shoes, etc,etc)...set-up complete and stuffed into my wet-suit like a sausage, I stroll down to the ocean and relax with my one cup of coffee as the herd begins to thunder in and the nervous energy becomes palpable around me...1600 athletes, 32 countries and Miami; think of a tour stage (OK, not the TdF, but maybe the Tour of Spain, or Argentina), or maybe a circus with 100's of endurance athletes in all shapes and sizes. With $25,000 in cash prizes on the line, even the pro's seem a bit nervous...Gun goes off and I have great position, but have a hard time sighting the first turn buoy in the early morning glare off the water...long and strong is my mantra as I focus on my swim stroke and avoid getting kicked or clawed in the swim start frenzy...out of the water and through T1 in a fairly smooth transition...out on the course I'm feeling good on the bike, despite the 15-20mph winds and my questionable decision to go with a rear disc wheel...into T2 and coming off the bike I have a hellacious abdominal muscle cramp (feels like one of the cans in my 6-pack popped it's top)...try to run through T2 but the cramp is killing me...relax, deep breaths, work it out...seconds seem like hours...finally out of T2, I feel good as I hit my running stride, but the pavement abrupty ends and I hit the trail (where did it say this was an Exterra event?) ...pro women leaders flying as they approach me on the out and back run course.... second loop of the 10k run and a tree root reaches out and trips me...up quickly with the only injury being a bruised ego, I'm back at it again, driving hard for the finish over the last mile...I cross the line and grab a drink before plunging into a sea of athletes and spectators.... back in transition, I gather my toys, hop in the truck, and head back to Islamorada for another hour and a half of bike training 'cuz 70.3 New Orleans is right around the corner, and as my buddy RM says, "It takes a little more to be a champion".