Hoi An, Vietnam, 30-08-09
The sound of metal grinding on metal is not comforting at 30,000 ft. This is particularly true when I am sitting on the port side window above the wing (and fuel tank) of a domestic flight in the developing word. It’s even worse because I heard the loud ‘Clunk’ (not really the ‘Bang’ you would expect) that preceded these alarming grinding noises. It came from the engine that I can see a few feet away through the tiny scratched up window. As it grinds it also vibrates, visibly shaking the wing and the cabin floor beneath my feet.
‘This is not good’ I say to Sam. He is by far the biggest of the three of us and somehow got the middle seat. ‘No, its not’ he says in a very flat voice. He flies a lot for work and knows the difference between turbulence and engine failure.
We tighten our seat belts and type quick good-bye text messages to our wives. Or at least that’s what I send. For all I know, Sam might be canceling a dinner reservation for later in the evening. I figure that somewhere on the way down we will pass into cell tower range and my G1 phone will have time to send out at least one message before impact. Now I wish I had bought a G1 Gulfstream instead of this trendy geek’s version of the iphone.
This is how my first experience in a triathlon begins. Work and family schedules have conspired to put us on the 9am flight to Danang for a race in nearby Hoi An that starts at 2:30pm. The flight time from Saigon is only about an hour and a half so we will have plenty of time to get to the venue, set up Sam’s new bike and let Brian, our swimmer, have a look at the ocean. But we did not factor possible engine failure into our travel schedule.
The pilot shuts down the engine and starts a gentle turn to the left. It appears that we will be heading back to Saigon. This makes sense. We are only 20 minutes into the flight and the runway at Tan Son Nhat is massive. It was built during the Vietnam War, or the ‘American War of Aggression’, as it is known in this neck of the jungle. It can handle some very big planes and a lot of traffic. I am not so sure how up to date the fire services are. The passengers and flight crew are remarkably calm. Maybe they don’t realize what is happening. After a few minutes the pilot or co-pilot officially announces that we are returning to base for ‘technical’ reasons.
We land on one engine in what must be textbook emergency landing procedure. It’s a smoother landing than most but I can feel the airframe torque as it brakes with just one engine. It has been a long time since I have witnessed passengers and flight crew clapping with genuine enthusiasm for a landing. I guess they did know what was going on. I suspect we would have seen a bit more emotion between the engine failure and the successful landing if this were a domestic flight in the US. But as we head to the exit we do notice that one clever traveler has been wearing his motorcycle helmet on board.
There are two other tri-athletes on the flight. These are the real athletes who will be doing all three legs of the event, not an over-the-hill relay team with a combined age of 142.
The five of us gather around the Vietnam Airlines desk to see if there is any chance of arriving in Hoi An before the race starts. Amazingly, the airline finds another aircraft and we are in the air by 11:30. Man with motorcycle helmet is still with us, chinstrap fastened. Quite a few other passengers have decided that today is not the day to fly. The original flight was completely full. This one, also an Airbus 320, is now one quarter empty.
Sam has arranged for a car to pick us up and after only one wrong turn that added an unnecessary 10 minutes to the journey we arrive at the venue 30 minutes before the start. Sam has arrived from Singapore yesterday with a brand new bike still in the packing carton. He has never ridden this bike before. While he frantically puts it together we find our registration kit, which a friend had picked up for us under false pretenses. The rules strictly stated that registration would be closed 1 hour before the event starts and you must pick up your kit in person.
We arrive with only 10 minutes to spare at the beach start-finish-transition stage where athletes put their bikes, running shoes and other gear for the switch between the swim, bike and run stages. Brian scopes out the buoys marking the swim course and declares, “This will be a piece of piss, mate”. This means “easy” if you are from Australia. I am glad he is doing the swim and feels this way about it. I would take a wholly different view if I were the swimmer. It’s windy and choppy. I can see a side current from left to right that even the jet skis struggle against.
Once the bike is set in its pen, we are told that we have to go to the body marking stage. Here they stamp the number 252 (Team Edge’s entry number) on our biceps. I don’t know why this is needed for the biker and runner. We also have numbered bibs to attach to our shirts. But I think it will look cool so I don’t object until I see that the girls have to roll the stamp pad around a bit to get the whole number on my skinny arms. You would have to stand in front of me and walk slowly around my side to see the whole number. Luckily my shirt has sleeves so this embarrassment will be mostly covered up.
Brian has just enough time to squirm his way to the front of the 150+ pack before the start sounds. It’s a 1.5-kilometer open ocean swim. The first swimmer comes out of the water in less than 15 minutes. I don’t know much about swimming speeds (this is the first triathlon I have ever seen) but this seems awfully fast to me. The leader doesn’t head to the transition stage as I expect. Instead, he goes back into the water for another lap. “I don’t think Brian knows he has to do two laps”, I say to Sam. We laugh. “Oh no, this will be comically tragic”, says Sam. Brian is about the tenth guy out of the water. He’s given everything on the final leg. It’s an amazing accomplishment. He is 57 years old in an event where the oldest age category is 40+.
As we expect, Brian bursts onto the beach looking very pleased with himself and starts heading to the transition stage. An official who is also ‘calling ‘the race on PA system catches him in time and explains that Brian must complete one more lap. He tries to dismiss the official with ‘”No worries mate, we are only doing the Olympic Distance triathlon not the Iron Man version”. ‘Yes’, the official says very slowly like he is explaining this to a sick child who cant understand why his friends aren’t allowed to come over to play, “That’s why you have to do another lap. Each lap is only 750 meters”. We can hear bits of this over the PA system. It is indeed comically tragic.
Into the choppy ocean he goes again. Where he found the energy I have no idea. He still manages to finish the full 1.5K in 36 minutes and in 16th place overall. A truly awesome performance.
Brian transfers the timing chip to Sam and promptly collapses in a corner of the transition area where he won’t be run over by bikes or wet swimmers making the transition. .
Now Sam is racing into a mild headwind up the South China Sea coast on his new bike. It’s nice to have a new vehicle. But it’s better when you read the owner’s manual. Sam hasn’t had a chance to review the course map so he has no idea where he is going, how long he will be in a headwind, how many kilometers are left after each turn. Fortunately, he can follow at least 15 riders. Now it’s a good thing Brian was not first out of the water.
The wind picks up to 20 knots plus and Sam finds himself struggling in a very low gear. But he can’t figure out how to get the new bike into a higher gear range. There don’t seem to be enough levers and switches. Maybe he left something in the box? He can change the little gears on the back wheel but has no idea what shifts the big gears around the pedal crank. He’s stubborn and proud. He’s sure he can figure this out on his own. The wind just keeps getting stronger, more and more cyclists pass him and he’s moving slower and slower. Finally he breaks down and asks a competitor with a similar bike how to change gears. He gets his answer not long before its time to turn around and start heading down wind. I must admit, the mechanism is not very intuitive.
The run is the last leg. So I have had 2 hours to study the course map and worry about the heat and wind. I get very lucky. Big clouds start rolling in at the same time Sam does. This cuts the heat down measurably. We transfer the time chip and I start running. The course is fantastic. Three laps on a loop that consist of newly built open roads along the exposed shoreline followed by a winding path through a local village on the leeward side of this small peninsula. The shoreline section is against the wind now but the runners don’t get the benefit of a trailing wind on the return half of the loop. The village lies low and the buildings cut off the wind. Village children gather in packs and run alongside us from time to time. Some are amassing collections of cold sponges, water bottles and half empty sports drinks that are being passed out to runners at two aid stations on the course. They are having as much fun as the competitors.
Near the end of the last lap I pass a guy I know from Saigon. He is much bigger, fitter and generally tougher than me. Another Australian…. As I pass him, I catch my breath and put a bit of spring in my step. “Hey mate, good to see you here!” I say as I lope past him. He is bewildered. He can’t figure out how a guy like me can get ahead of him and still look so fresh. He has no idea that I am just the runner in a relay team. I’ve only been at this for 45 minutes or so. He’s been in the water, riding a bike in wet shorts and running for the past 3 hours. He looks tired.
The best part about being the runner in a relay team is that I get all the glory at the finish line. It’s me alone crossing the line at 3’04”which would be a very respectable time for a single athlete to complete a triathlon. It equates to 45th place overall and 2nd in the relay category. Imagine that: 44 guys and girls can complete the entire course on their own steam faster than the 3 of us can as a team. And we would have been even further behind if it weren’t for Brian’s amazing swim.
