This
weekend, I did my first triathlon of the 2012 season.
Flashback
to the year 2000, the last time I did this race. How long ago was that? I placed 3rd in F20-24. I am now F35-39. A new friend, Chris Waterstraat, was also
there placing in his age group, M25-29 (don’t tell him that he turns 40 next
year). He also nearly picked up a boyfriend,
when the cop directing traffic gave him his phone number.
(true
story)
Galena
was my first race where it clicked. It
was my second triathlon, the first being a local women’s race where I
breast-stroked the entire 400 meters.
One of my finer moments in athletics, only to be outdone by taking the
time in transition to brush my hair. The
following year, 2000, in Galena, I remember putting my face into the cold
50-something degree water, panicking as the gun went off, breast-stroking to
the first buoy, then having a moment of get over yourself followed by ‘real’
swimming. Shortly thereafter, something
clicked. I remember how the water felt,
how the sun splayed across the water and finding rhythm. I loved
it. It is a feeling that keeps me
coming back to races today.
Since
then, I haven’t done the race though I spectated two years ago, 8 weeks away
from giving birth (all I remember is feeling hot and huge). I never had the desire to return to the race
because logistically, it’s complicated.
There are two transition areas. Which
violates my rule that you never do a race that involves getting on a bus, let
alone two of them. The water is usually
very cold. And mid-May in Chicago can
bring some nasty weather.
But
this year I wanted to do some smaller races, locally, enter: Galena.
I
traveled to the race with Jen and Karen. Karen posted on Facebook that she might learn
something from traveling with us “elite” (or, aging elite age group)
triathletes. Let me sum up what she learned:
1
– they forget 50% of their race gear in the car, realizing this at transition
when the car is 2 bus rides away
2
– they talk incessantly about eating chocolate or ice cream but then follow it
up with why am I not at race weight
3
– they win their age group but then are never satisfied
The
travel experience was filled with a lot of laughs, stories, gossip and a
healthy dose of vagina talk (hey, you can’t put 3 women into a car for 2 hours
without talking about it). And what can
only be described as a priceless Miss Daisy moment: going to dinner at 4:45 pm, only to realize the restaurant
didn’t open until 5 pm. The best thing
about traveling with Miss Daisy? You
never wait for dinner. We were the only
ones in the restaurant at 5 pm.
Jen
let us stay in the home of one of her sorority sisters, an adorable summer home
nestled in the Eagle Ridge territory. The
one thing that struck me was how quiet it was there. Another perk of traveling with (nearly menopausal)
women is that the house was kept at about 60 degrees – perfect sleeping
temperature. I was in bed at 6:22 pm
(also what happens when you finish dinner at 6). By 7:22 pm, I was asleep and slept for 10
hours.
What
felt like a lot of time in the morning (my wave went off at 9:39 am!) quickly
turned into feeling rushed and chaotic.
There was a lot of stuff to bring, to drop off and organize. A bus ride to T-2 to set up our run stuff then
a 16 mile bus ride to the race start.
The bus driver missed the turn to the race site, then tried to do 3
point turnaround on what looked like a one lane country road with drop offs on
either side. Needless to say, I was
sitting next to Jenny Garrison, who was ready to call her husband to tell him
she loved him. I have never been more
scared on a bus.
Thirty
minutes later, we arrived at transition.
I dropped my bike off the night before, letting some air out of the
tires because it was about 100 degrees in the cove used as transition. I found a pump and then had the OH FUDGE
moment where I realized I forgot my crack pipe.
I had a disc wheel but no adaptor.
Neither did the bike mechanic. I’ve
shouted a lot of crazy things in my life (mostly when drunk) but found myself
running around shouting DOES ANYONE HAVE A CRACK PIPE? (never has TriSports.com been more proud to
sponsor me) Finally found one and then
got to setting up transition.
After
making what felt like another three dozen errors of forgetting things or doing
the wrong thing, I was waiting on the beach with Jen. All of the men went off in age group waves,
then the women in respective age groups.
The gun went off and we ran into the water. I knew who I needed to follow and dove in
after them. Within moments, my goggles
filled with water. I stopped and fixed
them. A few yards later, it happened
again. I stopped again. A few yards later, it happened again, I
stopped again. I don’t know what I was
more frustrated at – the goggles or myself for stopping! Is this my first triathlon!? (what's next, breast-stroking?) Finally I got myself swimming and felt great!
But there went my competition.
The
run to transition is long and transition itself is filled with painful
rocks. YOW! But the bike course made up for it. The bike course is hilly but impressively
scenic – beautiful! You’re either going
up at what feels like a V02 max effort, hard stomping up the hill or down the
hill coasting. There is no rhythm on the
course, you go up, you go down with no flats.
In fact, I found myself not aero for most of it! I passed a lot of racers, including two women
in my age group early on but I knew the real competition was ahead.
I
love to run – no matter what, the race always ends with what I love to do. The first mile is mostly downhill. The rest of the miles were HOT! There were only two aid stations on the
course so I brought along a small Fuel Belt bottle with water + Zym (great idea). I passed a lot of
people on the run but again – no women that I recognized. I knew they were up there, but where? At times I felt I was moving fast, other
times I wondered – am I really going hard?
Or am I just settling? The final
mile felt amazing – it was mostly downhill but it was also that point in the
race where I felt like my legs were really there and they were ready. I run for that feeling.
All
in all, I ended up winning my age group and placing 8th
overall. When I texted Chris my results,
his reply was this:
Not bad for someone
who didn’t know they were racing two weeks ago.
Truth
be told, a little over two weeks ago, I was almost 8 weeks pregnant. And then I had a miscarriage. The second one in 6 months, the last one
being at 10 weeks in December. Both
involved surgery, both involved a lot of feelings I wasn’t prepared for: I felt
so confused, sad and empty. I haven’t
said anything about it because it’s awkward, personal and painful. I’m still not sure why women don’t talk about it – it’s ridiculously common yet going through it I have never felt more alone. It's something you suffer through quietly without
any answers for the dozens of questions that circle in your head – mostly….why?
But
life moves forward and after it you find yourself with two choices: either spin
your wheels in one place worrying and wondering about the why or keep moving
forward. I knew the only way to
recover from it was to keep moving forward.
It’s the only way I’ve ever known to deal with anything – in sport or
life. You’ll get beaten down, you’ll
hurt and you’ll want to give up but if you just keep moving forward you’ll
quickly gain momentum.
So
less than two weeks ago, I told Kurt it was time to start training again. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to
regain fitness. I spent weeks doing short
workouts that mostly consisted of spinning on my bike or swimming easy. I did very little running. I told him I was signed up for Galena, 10
days away. And showing up to a race
underprepared is not I how race. When I
race, I want to race hard and race well.
But Kurt very matter-of-factly said to me, follow your original race
schedule and go race Galena. But you don’t understand, this is the
Chicago National World Championship.
His reply: just put your head down and race.
I
knew if I didn’t race, it was only because I was scared of accepting that this
was where I was at right now. Scared
that not being at my best would mean it wasn’t worth putting myself out
there. Scared of comparing myself now to
comparing myself before. Scared of using
this as an excuse to stay at home and not have to deal with undesirable
outcomes. None of this made sense. It was going to be a beautiful day, I was
capable and I love to race – if I stayed at home, it was only to protect my “self”
– self confidence, self esteem, ego needs. That is not why I race.
Yesterday,
I told Kurt about my race, which to me felt like a train wreck of rookie errors, yet his response was
simple:
Don’t forget what
you’ve been through in the past 6-8 weeks, kid
I need to respect what I’ve been
through, be patient with myself. Whether
you’re coming back from an injury, just starting out in sport, coming back from
a baby or setback – the process takes time.
It will be uncomfortable, heck maybe even embarrassing! (example: me - in transition in the morning). Most will give up before they get anywhere. While I wait to gain fitness and get faster,
I need to remember that I do this sport because I love it, because I CAN. Not because I need to win or be the fastest. There’s a big difference, and this difference
is what I believe keeps athletes in the sport for a very long time. When you need to win, you do anything to get
there – you cheat, you overwork, you burn out, you play only to your strengths. When you do it because you love it, you last. This is something I learn as I get
older – at some point, it becomes more than just going to win or set a PR. At some point, you’re out there because you
love doing it and you just want to keep asking more of yourself. Or you look forward to facing your weaknesses
and fears because you want to learn more about yourself.
And
at some point, the excuses and fears will get bigger (too old, too slow, too hot, too
heavy, too far off the lead girls, too unfit).
If anyone digs deep enough, they can find an excuse for anything. But only you choose to listen. The only way I’ve gotten ahead in this sport
(or life) is to ignore all of that and go after it. I think back to Galena, 12 years ago, when I
panicked in the water – I could have stopped right there, hopped on a boat and
called it a day. Panic in the water,
fear of drowning – great excuses! But 12
years ago, I kept going and look at where this sport has taken me –
destinations, friends, a business, a husband, a child. That swim 12 years ago taught me a valuable
lesson: keep moving forward – on to the next race, the next mile, or the next
big thing. That approach will get you
where you want to go.
My
hope in sharing this is to suggest that we’ve all got reasons and excuses why
we shouldn’t be out there. We all have obstacles, setbacks, fears and
challenges. The degree of them is
irrelevant because one person’s minor setback is another person’s
catastrophe. It’s all relative and very,
very personal. When you let that excuse or
fear limit your behavior, you lose – you never find out the answer to what if,
you let yourself instead stay safe through fear and inaction. All of that is very unfun and limiting. Win or lose, there is a world of possibility
out there. Don’t be afraid to go after
it!
