If I remember anything useful from driver's education, it's that practice is essential when learning a new skill. And also, flashing lights in the rear view mirror usually means, "Pull over," and not "Cross state lines as fast as you can," as I'd originally thought.

With all the details of a triathlon transition still perplexing some of us in the sheJAMs training group (I take my wetsuit off where? Should I wear socks? What do you mean there's no buffet table in the transition area?), we were looking forward to Saturday's tri trial run. In the "moderately dreading" kind of way.

It was the first time I'd stacked all three legs of the race. But I figured that the low-pressure run-though would be a confidence builder. We'd all get through it, I was sure. And we'd no longer be able to fall back on pre-race doubts like, "I can't do this" or "What if I don't finish?"

The problem, of course, was that we had to do it before we could say we did it.

So we met up in the SMCC parking lot, where bike racks had been set up to help us get a handle on the transitions. Eight to ten bikes go on each rack, alternating sides down the row, and we were told that our "stuff" goes on ground to the left of the bike.

We all brought water bottles, towels, dry socks and running shoes. Helmets and sunglasses were draped over bike handles. Gear was laid out in orderly fashion. And we all agreed that even this "trial" was scaring the crap out of us. (Or maybe that was just me.)

Down at the Spring Point beach, a heavy fog clouded the view of the water and the lighthouse. We climbed into our wetsuits, pulled rubber caps over our heads and walked the rocky beach to the water.

"Ooh. The water's not bad," someone said. She was lying. It was, in my humble opinion, freezing. Much colder than it had been during the handful of other times I'd swum the tri course.

But seeing as Mother Nature didn't see fit to turn the ocean heater on, we swam anyway.

I've struggled with the swim over the last few months. I'm still no shark in the water, but I can stroke my way along without lifting my head every minute to spit water and shout, "I can't breathe!"

Of course, by the time I'd reached land again, most of the sheJAMs crew was long gone. The wetsuit was peeled off and my head was relieved from its swim cap prison, only to find itself encumbered by a bike helmet.

The ride went slowly without the benefits of the group - the distracting chitchat, the "you can do it" shouted from a fellow cyclist. I didn't enjoy riding alone. I lack that self-propelling drive to go faster. I need someone else there to shame me into going faster. Nothing improves my determination better than the fear of being the idiot who falls behind.

Back at the transition area at SMCC I tried to catch up. Running after biking being as hurtful as it is (though much improved since the first time I tried it) made that impossible.

So I did what anyone in my running shoes would do.

I cheated. Skipped a few kilometers. Didn't go. all. the. way.

"Wow, Shannon. You're back already!" one of the trainers said.

Yea. I'm fast like that.

Afterward, the group took a breather under a tree.

Was it the expected confidence builder? Absolutely. It's relieving to know that I CAN finished the tri without being pulled from the water, resuscitated on the bike course or collapsing into the grass during the run. Assuming race officials don't mind if I cut a few corners.

Kudos to the sheJAMs clan: