Triathlon

I'll continue working backwards chronologically. Here's a frame from the Richland Sprint Triathlon on June 30. I know, I know...this is pretty standard as far as triathlons go, but I'd never made this frame, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. I brought hip waders with me, but they weren't of any use because the depth went from knees to balls in four feet and then balls to armpits in another two. The head guy told me my best bet would be to stand on a dock that was 50 yards or so past the starting point. I opted to throw on my swim trunks and wade out—after tying my hair into a sassy bun, of course. Crossing those sensitive thresholds in the chilly Columbia River at 8:30 a.m. is pretty eye-opening. I picked what I thought would be a good spot, slowly inching my way along the rocky bottom, and terrified that I would slip and dunk my unprotected camera along with the Herald's $1,000+ lens. After I finally settled on a good spot, somebody yells to me, "I hope that camera's waterproof, 'cause you're gonna get run over there." I quickly moved aside, hoping that somebody would swim close enough to get a dramatic shot and I was pretty pleased to see this frame when I was able to chimp on dry land.

Then came the tough part: identifying this swimmer, who I thought was a guy until several people said, "I have no idea who she is." I went around asking pretty much everybody and keeping my eye out for girls that bore any resemblance. Finally, a woman said without hesitation, "Oh yeah. That's Robyn Paulson. She won first place overall for the women." "You have got to be effing me," I thought. "There's no way I lucked out that much." Turns out I was right in my doubts, but luckily saw this girl leaving with her family a full two hours after my I.D. hunt. After all that, it ran about three columns in black and white, buried somewhere in the sports section.

Bah.