Honesty

I completed my first half ironman triathlon yesterday at Barb's race.  1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 run.  It was a pretty wonderful experience -- training with a great group of ladies and experiencing the race together.  We all did amazingly well and I'm so proud of us.

The not so quick and dirty recap:

Swim was super fun. I love swimming in the Russian River.  It was about 70 degrees, perfect tri swim temperature with a wetsuit.  The fog was hanging low in the cool morning. We swam under two bridges out and back for half a mile or so.  Great views as you glimpsed through your goggles.  It was crowed the whole time, and occasionally my fingertips scraped the bottom due to the shallow water, but I still loved it.  A tiny current coming back which made you feel super fast.  44 min, not bad, not bad.

They have wetsuit strippers at this race.  What a nice little thrill.  You sit down and they rip that puppy off of you.  I was afraid my tri shorts were going to come off in the process, but luckily everything remained covered.

The bike on this course is amazingly beautiful, full of fun rollers, good roads mostly, and one short climb all through Sonoma vineyards.  We did this ride as a training ride earlier in the summer when it was 97 degrees.  Thankfully, the weather gods were kind, and blessed us with a day that topped out at 82 or so.  I maintained a nice 16-18 mph pace on the flats, and ate and drank really well.   As an added bonus, I saw a bunch of friend out on a run while I was cruising by.  3:33 on the bike, which I am quite pleased with.

So I had to go pee before I left for my run, which is a good sign (well-hydrated).  In the porta-pottie, as I am fiddling with my tri shorts, I hear a *splunk*.  I look down and see my inhaler floating in the oh so lovely pit. Ewww and  curses!  I contemplate for more than a second, in all honesty, reaching in and grabbing it.  Luckily I had hydrated well, so my mental faculties were still somewhat coherent, and remembered that  I had another inhaler back at bike.  So I run back to my stuff grab it and start again.  8 minutes lost.

And then we get to the run.  With triathlons, its always about the run.  I started off well, running a decent pace, for the first 5 miles. I found a woman who was my pace and we chatted for 2 or so miles, which kept me going (Thanks Pam, wherever you are!)  But then the fatigue and asthma set in.  It was a downward spiral both physically and mentally, which I spent a lot of time fighting off. Thankfully a crew of friends were on the course cheering us on with signs and cowbells.  Since the route was a double loop, I had the good fortune of seeing them 3 times.  I also saw my ladies I trained with out there, which means the world to you when you're suffering.  In the end, my time was not awful, but not something I'm not terribly proud of.  2:47.

Complete time 7:19.  Faster than I predicted overall, actually.

So what I'm processing about all of this is how triathlons or any endurance event, for that matter, force you to take a good honest look at yourself.  You go into these races with complicated layers of expectations and thoughts about who you are and how you will do.  And in the end you have to be honest with yourself because ultimately it's just you, the road, and the clock.  What you see isn't always what you want.  And as the mile pass, you get down to a very raw form of your self and your perception of your self.

When you start (and by you, I mean me), you are optimistic and pessimistic, confident and insecure, excited and calm.  And then when it gets really hard, a shift happens:

At first you feel competitive and compare yourself to others, trying to find some aspect, of how you are better than any random person you pick out.  (I passed 6 blue caps and 5 green caps in the swim. I can totally pass her on the hill.  She's walking already?, etc.)  Then you start making excuses (Her bike is way fancier than mine.  She's 10 years younger than me. I have asthma.  I shouldn't have gone on vacation in the middle of training., etc. ) And then you really start scraping for excuses (Her genetics are better than mine.  I didn't sleep well 3 weeks ago.  This racing chip is totally weighing me down.  I brought the wrong flavor drink.)  And finally, you come to the truth or a version of it that is without any pageantry  (I am just a slow runner.  I could have train better.  I am really not that tough. I guess I don't really want it that badly.  I really can't do anything for a mile.)  This is when you really hate yourself because all of your expectations have been shattered.  And this does not help the mental situation at all, as you can imagine. Battling your way out of that is what the hard parts of a race are all about, I'm convinced.

But this morning after the race and a good night's rest, after all the demon fighting was over, I woke up with some clarity.  My first thoughts were: I did my best, I trained hard and as well as I could, I put in my best effort.  And I'm signing up to do it again next year, and I will do it better!  And then the next thought was: I must eat 3 ham sandwiches -- immediately!