Triathlon Lessons: DQ in St. Albert, Redemption in Barrhead
Triathlon is tough. The training is technical, time-consuming, and exhausting — and that’s before you layer in work, food, laundry, friends, and family. We take it on because we love the journey (training) and the destination (race day). Sometimes things go spectacularly well. Other times… not so much.
Two Races, One Weekend
On August 23–24, I lined up for back-to-back sprint triathlons. Having raced a half earlier in the summer, the distances seemed manageable. The challenge would be handling the intensity — or so I thought.
Here’s what many people don’t know about me: I can be scattered, disorganized, and not always detail-oriented. (My husband would back me up instantly on that one.) I skimmed the athlete guide, missed the briefing, and figured I’d remember the course from last year.
Race morning felt smooth enough: an easy setup, a stress-free swim start, even a decent swim. On the bike, I settled into a rhythm and spotted a familiar-looking kit. Thinking she was in my age group, I decided to stick with her. Volunteers pointed us toward transition, she headed in, and I followed. No Garmin, no lap counter, no second thought.
Except… she wasn’t who I thought. She was on her second lap. I had only done one. Cue disqualification.
At least I salvaged a consistent run — small victories.
Lesson Learned
Yes, “Know the Course” is rule #1 in triathlon. But here’s another truth: “Athletes are dumb when they’re racing.” If a course can be misread, someone will misread it. This time, that someone was me. I wasn’t alone either, which makes me feel slightly better — and suggests the organizers might review signage.
Redemption in Barrhead
The next day’s race in Barrhead couldn’t have been more different. After years without a local triathlon, the town pulled together a fantastic event. Kids as young as five raced short distances, families teamed up for relays, and the community came out to cheer.
This time, I double-checked the maps, spoke to the race director (who promised the course was “idiot-proof”), and got through the whole thing. Swim, bike, run — done.
I might have pushed too hard on the bike or felt the fatigue of two races in two days, but none of that mattered. The energy of the community, reconnecting with friends, seeing customers cheer their grandkids — that’s the heart of small-town racing. No pressure, no pretension, just pure fun.
Takeaways
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Double race weekends? Absolutely. Risking failure is part of the deal, and it makes the successes even sweeter.
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Small-town races? 100%. Barrhead reminded me why grassroots triathlon matters. If they expand to Westlock, count me in.
See you out there next year — hopefully on the right course. 😉