Dumb-off? Triathlon? sport?

Matty Robb takes the title

Call it what you will. A Dumb-Off. A triathlon. Something to do on Saturday. Fact is, six committed athletes (?) risked life, limb and genitalia to walk, bike and float Coal Creek through town twice in the third, or second, annual officially unofficial Coal Creek Triathlon on Saturday, June 15.
Typically the event draws randoms of all abilities but with the flows such as they are in Coal Creek, this year’s event thinned out the wild cards—well, except for Brian McLain—and pared the field down to only “elite” multi-sport professionals Matty Robb, Raf, Milo Wynne, McLain, Arianne French and Kristi Murrin.
Not professionals, as in “I ride for Griggs Orthopedics”-type professionals. More like, “I’ve got a couple Dig Your Own Grave races, a few Irwin fishing derbys and an Eight Ball Rally or two under my belt, so Coal Creek Triathlon is next on my tic list”-type professionals. Furthermore, with the defending champion MIA, this year’s title was entirely up for grabs.
The race is simple in its format, confusing in its function and just a little bit FUBAR.
“Le Bron” start from the Eldo to the start of Kebler Pass Road, refresh, float to Totem Pole Park, bike with inflatable back to Eldo, go up the front stairs, refresh, bike back to the start of Kebler Pass, float to Totem Pole Park again, and run back to Eldo with inflatable, up the front stairs and refresh at finish line.
It’s more an 11-stage hexathlon (walk, run, bike, float, stair climb, imbibe) than a triathlon.
The only rules—no spandex, only inflatables for the float and “cow-kicking” is allowed. And, as opposed to most modern-day races where it seems prizes are given out for almost everything, race divisions are numerous and the podium can go five deep, there’s only one division, coed pro, and only one individual is rewarded for their feats in the Coal Creek Triathlon—the winner. $5 gets you in, winner takes all and gets the coveted “custom-forged aluminum” paddle trophy until a new champion emerges the next year.
The heap of trash talk was piling deep in the Eldo as the “athletes” convened for the pre-race meeting to go over some final instructions.
“I’m dressed for success, that $30 is mine,” claimed Raf as he slipped on motocross gear and splash pants and jacket.
“I’m wearing dirty laundry so I kill two birds with one stone,” pointed out Robb.
Inflatables ranged from a hydrospeed board to an inner tube to two inner tubes to a paco pad to a kid’s raft and, in McClain’s case, an air mattress.
Fueled by some “home-made Robitussin” (a mix of potato spirits and medicinal plant trimmings), Wynne jumped out to a big lead on the first float down Coal Creek, coming through the Kochevars Corkscrew section with a sizeable lead. Robb was next as the rest of the field was bumping uglies through the mayhem of Coal Creek, emerging from the water at Totem Pole Park to do it all again.
While McLain appeared in position for a move on the second lap, a random hazard in Coal Creek apparently compromised the membrane of his single-cell air mattress and when he hit the Eldo stairs section both he and his mattress were deflated and McClain was forced to drop out.
Wynne built on his lead on lap two and was a shoo-in for the title. Robb was down to one inner tube but still afloat in second place and the rest of the field was just merely trying to reach the finish line in one piece.
With one final stair climb between him and the title, Wynne mysteriously cracked. Not sure if the Robitussin took hold, wore off or what, but Wynne made a fatal error, veering off course to climb the back stairs to the finish line.
As the rest of the field ambled in, the mishap was brought to the attention of the racers and after much deliberation and a string of profanities from Wynne, it was determined Wynne was disqualified and Robb was awarded the title and able to pay back his sponsor, Team Buckhot.
“I was surprised to see him going up the back stairs when I was floating by,” said Robb.
“I got dq’d for using the back stairs. They weren’t closed, but the hot chicks flashing me made me lose focus. All the hits to the balls were for nothing,” said Wynne.