Monday, June 23, 2008

Picture it:  1000 people, 3 sports, 1 event.  Thats right, I'm talking Triathlon.  Yesterday my sister and I participated in the Callaway Gardens 2008 Sprint Triathlon.  It's a 'beginner' triathlon, so it was quite a bit shorter than the Olympic or Ironman distances (those people have either the stamina of the Energizer Bunny or else a high tolerance for pain).  Ours was a 400-meter swim followed by a 10-mile bike ride followed by a 2-mile run, on a relatively flat course.   And yes, we did this of our own volition.  Actually, it was Leslie's idea.  I had toyed around with the thought of doing one in the past but never got up the guts to actually train for one.  So when she came to class a few months ago and said she was doing it, I readily jumped on board.  Between preparing for 'TransforMotion' and my other daily duties, I somehow managed to squeeze in weekly training, and soon found myself standing in knee deep water waiting for the starter's gun.  And let me tell you, it was totally worth it.

 My day began at 4am, with my two cats looking at me suspiciously since I am not usually awake then.   The race began at 8am, and since this was my first one I wanted to get there early and get acclimated.  I arrived at the 'beach' at Callaway Gardens shortly before 6am, and other participants were already arriving.   I was expecting to see a bunch of triathletes who looked like Laser and Ice from 'American Gladiators', but for the most part it was everyday people like my sister and me.  After getting our gear set up in the transition area, we made our way to the beach to get ready for the start of the race.  The race starts in 'waves', and as my luck would have it I was in the first group (for the first time there were more female participants in this race, so they only had two waves of men at the start).  I placed myself towards the back of the group, as I'd heard that the swim start is basically a mass of flailing arms and legs, and that first-timers often lose their cool and freak out here.   As a former water polo player and an avid swimmer, I wasn't worried so much about the distance of the swim as I was about the lack of control amongst so many other swimmers.  Like Dory says in 'Finding Nemo', I told myself to "just keep swimming, just keep swimming".  Granted, the swim was in 5 feet of water, so when I got the occasional kick in the head I could just stand up for a second and re-orient myself.  Nine minutes later I was out of the water and sprinting up the beach to the transition area.

 After throwing on my clothes and shoes, I grabbed a swig of water, secured my helmet and took off pedaling.   I was feeling pretty good so far, and wasn't phased at all by the other racers who finished the swim after I did and raced past me once they were on their bikes.  I wasn't trying to win a medal or set some record.  I just wanted to finish.  About 3 miles into the bike portion, I had my first kick in the guts: I heard someone yell 'on your left!' (this let's you know someone is passing you) and watched as the first female racer whizzed past me.  Ok, no biggie.  She was on a serious racing bike and had on an outfit and helmet that could only have been designed by NASA, so I knew she was a pro.  Not too long after that, a young man who could not have been older than 12 or 13 flew past me, and I began to get rattled.  What had I gotten myself into?  I thought I was doing pretty good, and here were these people who started the swim portion five or six minutes after me just riding by like it was nothing.  "Just keep pedaling, just keep pedaling".  I focused on staying with the riders ahead of me, and before I knew it we were coming around the bend and headed back into the transition area to begin the run.

 2 miles.  Not a long distance by any means.  Yet I was sure this would be my final undoing.  I loathe running; I'd rather watch grass grow than to put on running shoes and take a jog.  I started off at a slow pace, as my legs were a little wobbly from the bike ride.  As I started to feel like I was actually going to be able to complete the race, I slowly but surely I reeled in my competitors, having little 'mini-races' with them in my head.  Rest assured, there were plenty of people who reeled me right back in and jogged past me.  At the point in the race where they were giving water, the kind young lady who handed me the cup as I ran past said 'You're halfway there, one more mile to go!'.  She had to be kidding.  I knew my lungs and legs had a running bet on which part was going to give out on me first.  Ignoring all the other voices in my head, I  focused on the one that said 'Just keep running, just keep running'.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Lo and behold, around a curve and down a short hill,  I was at the promised land: the finish line was in sight!  I could hear the crowd ahead cheering us on, and in my own little world it was all for me.   I heard someone yell '1/4 mile left, sprint it home!'.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, my legs decided to do just that; I was simply along for the ride.   I made one last push, and one hour and nine seconds after it began I flew across the finish line like I had just won the Peachtree Road race.  What a rush that was.  A few minutes later, I cheered Leslie on as she rounded the last curve, and yelled and screamed as I watched her cross the finish line.  We had done it.  We were officially triathletes!  

 You can blame it adrenaline, will power, some higher being, whatever you want.   There is nothing like the feeing of accomplishment when you set a goal and achieve it.  I want that feeling back.  I am already planning to start training for my next one.  Well, maybe in a week or two; I want to revel in the glory of doing this one for a bit longer.  See you guys in class!  -Tim