Initiation

We were lined up at the indoor aquatic center like kids waiting to climb the ladder and jump off the high dive.  Only, there was no high dive, we weren't kids, and this was a triathlon, people.

My first triathlon was a super sprint with a 250 yard pool swim, 7 mile bike, and 2 mile run.  I had "trained" in as much as I had gone on a couple of group bike rides out of our local bike shop (thank GOD for some very patient riders willing to help a newbie!), swam some laps at LA Fitness and tried to run more than I walked around the lake at our local park.  This was getting my feet wet, quite literally, into the sport and the experience would be unlike anything I'd ever done before.

The ritual of marking bodies with sharpies (hello, I do *not* want my age on my leg thank you very much?!) was an experience.  This was no USAT event.... "How fast ya think you'll swim it?" and that was the time they wrote on my arm.  We lined ourselves up, scouts honor, according to a best guess at swim finish time, and we were off.

I had friends there watching whose son was going to compete in the kids tri (and likely be much faster than I could ever be!).  It was a little unnerving to know I had an audience, but a comfort to see familiar faces as well.

The fastest swimmers started and I was happy to have a few minutes to gauge how exactly this would work.  The race coordinator put them in the pool one at a time, and started each in succession, spaced by a length of the pool.  I could handle that.

I flew threw the swim with no problems, zig zagging down for 250 yards.  I got out of the pool at the ladder, got a high five from our friend's son, Micah, and made my way out the door and around the building to transition.  As I hit my watch, I remember thinking, "Oh my gosh, I'm actually doing this."  What a rush!

In transition, I completely lost my bike. As in... ran up and down the middle for a few minutes until I could get my bearings.  That was panic inducing, but a learning experience nonetheless.  Don't lose the stinkin' bike.

I dried my feet, loaded up my shoes, made my way to the bike out and clipped in.  The whole process took about 30 seconds, but the entire time I was chanting in my head "Don't tip over, don't tip over, people are watching, stay on the damn bike, don't fall...."

We rode on a very poorly marked course for 2 laps totally 7 miles.  I was so conservative on that ride because I did not want to wreck!  Back into transition, I ripped the bike shoes off my feet, replaced them with running shoes and grabbed my race belt/number, and I was off to run out.

The run was still very hard for me at this point, and I remember thinking there was no way I was going to be able to run straight through.  I pushed through and did what I could.  The effort required by the first two disciplines really weighed on my legs, but I managed sub 12 minute miles on the run with some walking thrown in.  I couldn't be too upset about that.

I crossed the finish, received a finisher medal and had an overwhelming sense of... I did it.

I was already mentally prepping myself for the next challenge.  Hooked, to say the least.  I had been initiated.  I became someone new that day.  I was a triathlete.

The year I lost my mind.

After mass one winter morning, I found my hand gripping a pen and forming the letters to enter our church’s annual 5k.  As I did so, my mind spoke the words I had so often said in the past. 

“I’m not a runner.” 

“I only run when chased.”

“Better you than me.”

Although I still believed every word, I signed up with a friend who was very much a runner.  I was very much not.

Without much time to prepare, 3.1 miles loomed large and seemed just so … far. 

But I made a deal with myself; I was going to try it out to see what this running thing was all about.  I had run a 5k in the past, was on the track team for a time in high school, but I was still not a runner.  At all.

February 25, 2014.  I put on what ever I could find that was warm – leggings and a fleece left over from my post-babies-but-pre-active-children-I-must-play-tennis-because-I-live-in-Atlanta years on the court, some running shoes I picked up at Nordstrom Rack, a hat, and off I went.  It was 35 degrees.  And raining sideways.  I pulled into the park and resolved to go.  And I went.  It was not pretty.  I walked more than I ran. It hurt.  My lungs hurt.  My legs were on fire.  I was wet and cold.

But that day, I began to see a little of what the “hype” was all about.  Something about moving myself from point A to B under only the power of my own two feet was empowering.  I wanted to see if I could do better the next time.  Two days later, I went out again and went a little farther, a little faster, and walked a little less.  In March, I took that 5k by storm.  It was a very, very slow personal best (all first races are PRs!), and I was just proud that I got across the finish line.  Every muscle in my body hurt.

Ironically enough, I found out later that I placed in my age group.  The beauty of a small race!

I overcame something in that short amount of time… something changed in me.  I found myself signing up for another race in April… then another… then another…. And then I did something I was sure I would live to regret… I signed up for a half marathon.  I progressed through the training for that race and became quickly sidetracked by shiny road bikes and the idea of triathlon.  I bought my road bike in June, ran my first 13.1 mile race on July 4^th and hopped on my bike for the first time on July 6^th.  Love at first sight.  Er.  Spin.

And the rest, as they say, is history. 

Who am I?

If that isn't a loaded question, I'm not sure what is.

If you asked me a year ago, I would have responded with something along the lines of: I'm a wife, mother, closed captioner for the hearing impaired, volunteer extraordinaire, sister, friend, daughter...

If you were to ask me today, I would still tell you I am all of those things, but now I can also add: runner, swimmer, cyclist, triathlete, expert on knee issues, run data geek, and other descriptions to that list.

In the last year, I found myself running, swimming, biking, training for races, making new friends, and finding a new side to old friendships.  

Mostly, though, I just found myself.  I have learned more about who I am and who I want to be on the run (or in the saddle, or in the pool).  I am tough.  I am weak.  I am strong and yet strive to be ever stronger.  

This is my journey.  I document it mostly for myself as a way to look back on this year as I work toward the goal of the 70.3 Half Ironman distance triathlon in Augusta in September of this year.  Feel free to come along for the ride.