»OSU student wins third straight race Article on B4
SPRINGFIELD — When my wife, News-Sun photographer Barbara Perenic, first brought up the Great Buckeye Challenge, I envisioned a pile of chocolate and peanut butter buckeyes and an eating contest at the Clark County Fair. Then I thought maybe it was a reference to the Buckeyes and their failure to win the BCS championship in recent years.
In reality, the Great Buckeye Challenge triathlon is just that, a great challenge.
We departed for Buck Creek State Park under the cover of darkness at 6 a.m. Sunday morning, Aug. 22. Fog covered the reservoir.
After dropping off my bike in the transition area as Barbara searched out all the members of Springfield’s new triathlon team (STAR: Springfield Triathletes and Area Racers), I picked up my race packet.
“Can I see your license plate,” asked a youngster manning one of the computers.
He meant driver’s license, and we got things sorted out quickly. I returned to my bike. The speakers blared, “Mercy, mercy me. Things ain’t what they used to be,” lyrics that would prove prophetic. Then I sought some last-minute advice, this being just my second triathlon (Barbara’s fourth, all since May).
“Just keep swimming. Just keep riding,” said Clark County Assistant Prosecutor Andy Wilson, a member of the STAR team.
“Have fun. That’s why we’re here,” advised Springfield High School trainer Mike Willets, a veteran racer who is also closing in on a lifetime goal of running a marathon in all 50 states.
Then I eavesdropped in the transition area as the racers got ready for the swim at 8 a.m.
“Socks or no socks,” asked one racer.
“Always socks,” was the reply.
Not long later, we plunged into the reservoir, the water temperature a balmy 76. The swim is a weak point for me (a strength for Barbara), but I survived the 1,000 meters, thinking the rest of the race would be a breeze.
That might have been the case had my tire not sprung a leak about two miles into the 12-mile bike segment. Immediately, I regretted not teaching myself how to change the tire. My regret deepened, after 20-30 minutes of trying to fix it, as I began to lug the bike on my back to the transition area as hundreds passed me, offering help I wouldn’t accept.
The Jennings family on Old Columbus Road turned out to be my savior. They were watching the race from their front lawn, eating donuts and drinking coffee and cheering on Wilson and his wife, Libby, when they spotted me. They gave me a ride back to the transition area. I dumped my bike and started the 5-kilometer run.
I soon passed my wife coming the other way. We inspired each other to start racing, and that seems to work with numerous couples. This time, there was only time for the shortest of greetings.
The racing comes first because it’s all about the time. Neither of us will ever win one of these things, but we can measure ourselves against others in our age groups and against our past times.
And we can treasure our medals. Everyone got small medals Sunday. Barbara loves the triathlon bling.
So we’ll keep racing — while we work on our skill as bike mechanics.
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