Year 3 at Ironman 70.3 Pucón

The "previa" (pre-race)

In January 2013 my triathlon journey officially began. At the time, I had heard that the Ironman 70.3 race in Pucón was the "carrera más linda del mundo" ("most beautiful race in the world"), and triathlon had been in the back of my mind for a while. I registered, not knowing whether I'd be leaving Chile when my initial one-year visa was set to expire soon-after. That race changed the rhythm of my life. Yes it was beautiful, yes it was a challenge, and it introduced me to the Chilean triathlon community. I began to train consistently with Team RPM in Chile (I stayed in Chile another 6 months), and then with the Yale Tri Club and Team Mossman in Connecticut. Since 2013, triathlon has taken me many places within Chile, USA, and Canada.

This is the history that I brought with me to race in Pucón again this January in 2016. Having returned to Chile just 2 months ago, this weekend was somewhat of a reunion for me to see many familiar faces after being away several years. Pucón is a small touristic town in southern Chile -- a gateway to lakes, hot springs, and volcanos -- that overflows this weekend with triathletes, family and friends. When the race starts to feel tough, a glimpse of the beautiful scenery helps keep me going.

The big race weekend

This year, the course became even more impressive with the bike route extended along the road to the Argentinian border. There we had the bonus of entering farther into the evergreen-filled mountains and passing through the tiny Mapuche town of Curarrehue, with plenty of local support (the roads were closed to cars, so it was the only "game" in town that day). To put the setting in context, it felt like riding from Georgetown to Andice (TX), or maybe Middlebury to Starksboro (VT). Small town to even smaller town.

Scouting the bike course turn-around beyond Curarrehue.

The rest of the weekend is considered a "sports party" among the triathletes. The transition area takes over the main streets near the plaza at the center of town, accommodations are booked to capacity with triathletes, you see them everywhere around town -- carb-loading at the restaurants, riding or jogging, at the beach by the lake, browsing the vendor booths at the expo, taking in the "energy" of the event. Friday is a motivating series of races for kids, as well as adults trying triathlon for the first time. 

The race on Sunday began early, with the pros taking off at 7 am, and the "age groupers" following between 7:15-8 am. In my case, the day lasted long enough to get a pretty solid sunburn 5 hours and 25 minutes later, even though the swim and first half of the bike ride were protected by some fog. The sun burned away the clouds, so by the end we saw the expected volcano backdrop.

Hello to my coaches, Marcos and Richard, at the swim start.

Transition, always glad to be getting on my bike.

Happy to be going downhill and not up, at the epic peninsula.

Heading through town...

... and people noticed I was smiling most of way.  I couldn't find the best way to tell them why: "the more it hurts, the more I smile." In spanish maybe a better saying is: "al mal tiempo buena cara" (something like "look on the bright side").

Post-race

With Team RPM, Sunday historically ends with a Chilean barbecue, and this year a member of the team took the celebration to the next level by offering a "cordero al palo" (literally "lamb on a stick"), which is cooked extremely slowly on a metal rod over a grill, with the meat coming out deliciously juicy after several hours (admittedly, meat usually seems really tasty to me post-race). Together that evening we relived every grueling glorious moment of the race experience, and shared our gratitude with the family and friends who had come along to support us during the weekend.

Before heading back to Santiago on Monday morning, I squeezed in a quick trip to the hot springs, nestled along a chilling river carving through the mountains. After about 45 minutes alternating between the naturally hot spring-fed pools and the frigid flowing river water, I was comfortable enough and energized to begin the drive home.

In addition to testing my body's limits, this weekend I spent 5 days almost entirely immersed among spanish-speaking friends, and my communication was also tested in the best way possible. Note to self, speaking a second language becomes increasingly difficult after crossing the finish line of an endurance event. I flipped around plenty of words (repeatedly asking my friend who was organizing the barbecue "What can you bring me?" instead of "What can I bring you?"), but my friends were very patient and taught me a lot. A car ride of 9 hours each way was also a great chance to share all kinds of sports stories with new friends. By the end of the long weekend, I found myself thinking more in spanish, and translating into english when needed (or forgetting the english words altogether, less good). Exercising the body, spirit, and mind.

Finish line thumbs-up.  Chip time 5:25.

So many thumbs-up from me that day.