Finding your Courage and Expressing your Joy. Like the Hokey Pokey-- that's what it's All About

I survived my first triathlon season!

Guess what?  I really enjoy swimming now!

It has been over a year since I first set my sights on completing a triathlon.  I swam, biked, and ran all winter, spring, and summer.  I strength trained and continued my yoga and meditation practice.  

I did these things not because it helped solve any of the huge crises in the world. Crime was not reduced nor a single refugee protected by my endeavors.  And yet . . . 

I believe striving past perceived limits and achieving what you once thought was impossible IS in fact a small contribution to our world.  I believe trying new things, being willing to fail or embarrass oneself, being willing to try to achieve a dream is a worthy example for my children. 

Perhaps an even better example is the gentle persistence and sense of humor required when one is a relatively slow, middle aged lady who wants to be an Ironman.  

The world can be a scary place.  My advice is to spend less time watching the news, and to find a dream in your life's closet that has been hidden for too long.  Pull it out.  Dust it off.  Decide to risk it.  Be bold.

The lake I am not supposed to swim in.
But LOOK at it.  Wouldn't you?

Flying down the road on Spooky makes me laugh with joy.

Joy and Pain in the Half Iron Distance-- 1.2 Mile Swim, 56 Mile Bike, 13.1 Mile Run

Let me begin with JOY:

7:30 am.  Lake Tobesofkee, Macon, GA
First Attempt at the Half Iron Distance.

* Having a husband who happily takes two days off work, books the hotel, attends to your every need (and whim), and cheers for you all day!

* Swimming nearly a mile and a half in open water as the sun begins to rise over the hills surrounding Lake Tobesofkee.
* Realizing that you feel GOOD even if a great many people with your same color swim cap are WAY in front of you.

* Successfully mounting your bike while running!
* Sweeping past farmland, cattle, cotton fields, and sleepy horses as the sun grows brighter and the sky turns brilliant blue.
* Getting to say, "On your left!" to more than a few cyclists, and NOT getting a flat tire!
* Successfully grasping a water bottle from a volunteer as you roll by on your bicycle.
* Finally finishing that 56 mile ride!

* Beginning a half marathon in 90 degree heat and thinking, "Well, I'm almost done!"
* Aid stations every mile-- where you pour ice shamelessly down your tri suit (front and back).  "Aaahh!"
* Realizing you can put an ice water soaked rag on your head and feel marvelous . . . for about 2 minutes. 
* Giving thumbs up and "Way to go!" encouragement to your fellow sufferers . . . Ahem, triathletes.

* FINISH LINE  FINISH LINE  FINISH LINE!

And once all that is said, it is easy to forget the muscle cramps, saddle sores, and exhaustion that you lived with for 6+ hours on the day you did your first Half Iron Distance.

A Much Less Impressive Olympic Trial

I survived the swim!

After completing my first sprint triathlon on June fourth, my youngest son declared, "You're a Triathlete now!", but I embraced the label with some trepidation. Although the bike and run portions had gone well, I had clearly panicked during the 500 meter swim.  How would I ever complete a triathlon with a longer swim?

I'm still alive!!!

I practiced at Clearwater Lake.  It was all I could do to put my face in the water and swim freestyle for a few strokes.  My heart pounded in my chest.  I felt I couldn't breathe.  It was embarrassing to panic in what was clearly a safe environment for swimming-- no sharks, no jellyfish.  What was my problem?

I practiced at Hard Labor Creek Lake near our home.  Many times.  It got better.  It helped when my son swam with me the first time.  It helped when I swam with my triathlete friend, Amy.  I didn't get faster, but I stopped panicking . . . as much.

John's assignment was to keep an eye
on women's legs!  

The date of my first Olympic distance triathlon began at 4am with horrible nerves and the inability to eat.  By the time we arrived at the lake in Elberton, I had only 30 minutes before the start.  I insisted that John and I take a picture together.  The panicky voice inside me commented that it might be our last picture together.

Wading into the lake, I found a quiet spot off to the side.  Two laps around these buoys?  Surely I had misread!  It looked like at least a mile swim.  The announcer reminded us that we swim twice around the buoys.  Oh, gosh!  Okay, Okay, I thought.  I know my body can do it as long as I stay calm . . . as long as I stay calm . . . 

The gun went off and we were in.  For the first 60 seconds, I was swimming happily and thinking, "This is going just fine!", but then suddenly I couldn't breathe, my heart was racing, and I wanted to stop!  I swam with my head up and thought, "I can't do it.  I can't possibly do two laps around these buoys."  At that moment, the next gun went off for the next wave of swimmers.  I realized that I had only been in the water for THREE MINUTES.  Good Grief!

I told my brain to shut up, and I just started trying to swim.  No thinking.  Just swimming-- face out of the water mostly. I passed a few people.  I began to feel a little better.  By a half mile in, I was relaxed and thought maybe I could do it.  I worried about watching the buoys and keeping my strokes and breathing smooth and easy.  Speed wasn't a priority.  I began to swim as if I was in the pool.

Finally, after 1.14 miles, my hands touched sand and I stood and ran toward John and the bike.  I survived!

My husband's assignment had been to watch women's legs and let me know how many women in my age group are in front of me.  He shouted out the number as I trotted by, but I no longer cared.  I had done it.  I had overcome the panic and survived the swim.  I knew I could and would do it again.  I would (will) eventually become an Ironman.

Happy Cruising with Spooky

The rest of the race was a joy.  Spooky and I loved the 22 miles of rolling hills.  My legs transitioned smoothly to the run and I passed a lot of people during the 10K.  The finish was a downhill pleasure with John waiting at the end.

All of that, and second in my age group, too?! A great day.  Can't wait for the next one.

Running it in for second place in my age group.

Trying to Imagine

Sunrise and moonset over a lake as I began a recent run.

I've been reading a lot of posts lately from seemingly mortal women who have completed events I cannot yet imagine. Some are women who look like me.  

And yet . . . they imagined completing an Ironman and then they took the steps necessary to actually DO it-- a 2.4 mile swim in open water, 112 mile bike ride, and a 26.2 mile run all completed in under 17 hours.  Can you imagine?

My longest bike ride-- 60+ miles--
made easier with friends.

I am trying to imagine; and I think how great it must feel to be in that kind of physical shape; to have that kind of strength and endurance.  

Watch out, Ironman Chattanooga. I think I'm on my way.

My only marathon of the year--
I cannot yet imagine completing
26.2 miles after both a
 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike.

Must survive the swim!

For my Women for TRI peeps:
You inspire me.

Delicious Surprise

Tired of oatmeal, protein bars, or recovery drinks?
Try this:
one cooked sweet potato
one scoop peanut butter 
(a scoop may be a tablespoon or more--you decide)
one scoop greek yogurt
one serving protein powder
vanilla soymilk
cinnamon
ice
Blend.
Delicious Recovery Drink after my mini-triathlon this morning with Amy Benton.

Triathlete Triumph

There is joy in setting goals and meeting them. There is pleasure in the burning legs and lungs as we swim, bike, and run.

The sleepers do not know what we've accomplished as we walk in the door when they are just sipping their coffee . . . but they see our smiles beneath the sweat and must suspect they are missing something amazing.  They are right.

Courage Means Moving Forward-- not without Fear-- but Despite it.

Does this sound familiar?  I urge my children to try new things while I sit safely on the sidelines and stick to my routine.

I've wanted to complete a triathlon for over 20 years!  

Here are my various excuses for not doing a Triathlon:

* I'm afraid someone will knock my goggles off and I'll lose my contact lenses, swim in circles, and have to be pulled out of the water.
* I'm afraid I'll have a flat tire on the bike and have to walk.
* I'm not fast and don't know what I'm doing.
* Triathlon sounds expensive.
* I don't know where triathlons are held.
* I don't know anyone who does triathlons.
* I don't swim fast.
* I don't run fast.
* I don't bike all that fast-- and sometimes I crash.
* I'm afraid someone will knock my goggles off and I'll lose my contact lenses, swim in circles, and have to be pulled out of the water.

These reasons sound a lot like the reasons my sons give me for not wanting to participate in various sports or attend summer camps.  The reasons make sense and yet they are excuses built on fear and apprehension.

Some of my fear has a sound basis-- I've been a lifeguard.  I have watched people nearly drown.  I felt the panic of drowning while trying to rescue a hysterical thrashing victim who was bigger than me and in over his head.  He kept hugging me around my neck and I was afraid he was going to kill us both.  I had to kick him in the stomach to get him off  me so I could pull him to safety.

So for two decades I continued to run and practice yoga and not really think about a triathlon-- even though whenever I watched Ironman competitors cross the finish line, I cried.

Then, nearly a year ago, I read a little book by another Atlanta area mom and attorney.  Her name is Meredith Atwood, and the book is Triathlon for the Every Woman: You can do it.  Yes.  You. Despite being overweight and overwhelmed, Meredith trained for and completed a short triathlon. Then another.  And another.  She completed the Ironman distance.  Her story was empowering.  She was not a superstar athlete with endless financial support.  Instead, she was . . . a little like me.  She was a busy mom with financial constraints.  She was kind of slow.  Never going to win.  Just in it for . . . what?  Something deeper.  Me, too.

Last September, I began my triathlon journey.  I read every book I could find.  I swam.  It was harder than I thought.  I biked.  It was more fun than expected.  I continued to run because that has long been a source of joy and peace for me.  Weeks and months passed.  And finally the day came.

June 4, 2016  Blalock Lakes Tri the Parks Sprint Triathlon

                     600 meter swim                           14.7 mile bike                         3.1 mile run

After months of training, I was almost sure that finishing would be a piece of cake.  This was my warm up triathlon for all the Ironman distances I was sure to complete.  Ugh . . . Surprise.

Do you know what's challenging?  Swimming in a churning, frothing lake of green water.  Swimming with arms and legs bumping you and no real room to put your head down and swim without risking The Fear: someone will knock my goggles off and I'll lose my contact lenses, swim in circles, and have to be pulled out of the water!

For the next fifteen minutes, the thoughts in my head ran something like this: "Oh my God, I can't breathe!  Keep going!  Keep going!  Where are the buoys?  Okay, there is a buoy.  Put your head down and swim like you've been practicing  . . . Oh, my God, I can't breathe!  I'm swallowing water.  Why am I swallowing so much yucky green water?  I can't get my breath!  Head up, then.  Go.  Just Go."

That was my thought process as I followed the froth of purple capped swimmers.  And finally, my hands touched lake bottom.  I stood, and I ran for the bike.  At least, I thought I was running.  (Check Photo to see truth!)

The bike was a JOY.  No one passed me on the bike.  Spooky and I love each other, and we flew over the 14.7 miles at a faster pace than we'd ever ridden before.  Thank you, Spooky.

The run, however, was unwelcome.  My legs simply wouldn't move very well, and my tummy was ready to reject the lake water now.  For the first mile, I was in a state of confusion and disbelief as I tried to understand why this little 5K was so HARD.  Thankfully, after a mile and a half, I was able to change directions.  Lo and Behold, we had been running uphill for most of the first half.  No wonder it was so challenging! On the last mile, I began to relax into the race and shouted encouragement to the other women around me.

After blasting through the finisher's chute (okay, maybe more like trotting with enthusiasm), I could finally say it, "I am a triathlete."

It was harder than I thought.  Don't underestimate the shorter distances.  A sprint triathlon is NOT a sprint.  I didn't see anyone sprinting!  But you know what?  After it was over, and I could breathe normally again; I felt like a superhero.  Triathlon clothing even looks a little bit like a superhero suit; don't you think?

I can't wait to compete again.  And I have something new to work on.  A new fear to conquer.  The open water swim.  The green, dark, open water swim . . . I'm going to do it!

Message from my youngest son when I arrived
home from my first triathlon.

Competing in a triathlon-- my fears released from the shadows.