Let me just start off by saying how incredibly excited and grateful I am to be a member of the Endurance Films Racing Team. I am looking forward to a great race in Vermont with my new teammates, and in preparation for that race I packed up the car and headed to Santa Barbara at Crazy o'clock this morning for the Goleta Beach Olympic Triathlon. As my final practice race before Age Group Nationals and my first since becoming a sponsored athlete, I was looking forward to a fast day and an opportunity for some fine-tuning. Things started out just as I'd hoped, with a flat swim and easy sighting despite the sunny morning, and I was one of the first swimmers out of the water. After some minor technical difficulties in T1 (file this under fine-tuning), I was off on the fast and flat bike course. I was 21 miles into the bike course and in position for a second place finish for both my age group and overall female when it happened: my front wheel developed a mind of its own, and I felt like I was biking through quicksand. Flat -- great. I took a seat on the curb, changed out my tube, and popped a CO2 cartridge into my inflator. And... nothing. Total dud. A good samaritan pulled over and hooked me up with a new cartridge as well as an inflator (the cartridge was incompatible with mine). But this is why they say "nothing new on race day" -- I couldn't get it to work. I got some air into the tire, but nowhere near enough to ride on. Grateful for the assistance but resined to my fate, I trudged to the corner and waited for the sag wagon. I enjoyed a bittersweet ride back to transition with a van full of thwarted triathletes (it was a rough day for tires) and picked up some pointers from a tire-changing guru along the way. This is what I love about triathletes. If you're stopped on the side of the road, you're sure to find someone who's willing to pull over and lend a helping hand, even in the middle of a race. The sag wagon was filled with laughter and advice, supplied by people who were just happy to be outside doing what they love even though things didn't go as planned. It was my first DNF ever, and I won't lie, it was rough packing up my bag and turning in my chip. But at the end of the day, this is what practice is for: working the kinks out of the system and dealing with the unexpected so nothing flusters you on the big day. So at Nationals I'll be wearing a Rambo-style belt of CO2 cartridges across my chest (ok, maybe I'll compromise and just carry two). And make no mistake, Goleta Tri: I'll be back next year to claim my spot on the podium.