Another Valley Girl tri is in the books; it was all ages, all sizes, all athletic abilities, all women. This was the third time for me and the first for many of my friends, to include two that had never done a triathlon at all before. For me, it was easier in some ways and just as challenging in others, and my overall time was 10 minutes faster than last year. This is partially attributable to a shorter swim distance (1/4 vs. 1/3 mile) since the water temperature was much colder than usual, and I shortened my bike time despite going back to my mountain bike over last year's borrowed one. (I haven't yet made the leap to my own road bike but will soon!) The run, which most would assume to be my strongest portion, was more than 3 minutes slower than last year and 14 minutes slower than a slightly longer distance race I completed less than a week ago.
I cannot put into words the feeling of rushing the finish line at a triathlon. These are so much harder than the strictly running races I've come to love; they challenge the limits of what I think I am capable of.
Despite my pool and open water training this year, I still struggled greatly with the swim. While I waited quietly, almost anxiously, for the countdown for my age group, I splashed some water in my goggles and put them on. Then the announcer's voice shouted out: "5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 GO!" The panic didn't set in on the shore this time, but thoroughly enveloped me within a few seconds as the first weeds tangled around my legs coupled with the shock of the cool temperature as I ran deeper into the water. I tried to catch my breath and calm my breathing, but I gasped quickly with shallow breaths. The good swimming form I had practiced was forgotten as I tried to incorporate arm strokes without putting my face in the water. As this was a terrible version of the front crawl that under ideal conditions would allow for fast and fluid movement, I barely inched forward. Side stroke, back stroke, it felt like I was barely moving. There were 14 kayaks in the water this year (Laurie counted!) and I at least passed up the first one before asking for a break to catch my breath and regroup my wits. After a few moments I moved on, slowly and awkwardly pushing forward, accidentally taking in water and coughing, feeling the pull of the water on my timing chip strap. Then the next wave of swimmers, the neon green caps that most of my friends were in, started and most of them passed me by as well. I thought of how fitting the word "wave" is when describing how the groups enter the water, as I felt like they were washing over me. I stopped again and again at different kayaks, catching my breath for a few moments and surveying the distance in front of me. After awhile my "swimming" form melted into a sad jellyfish-like movement, but I kept pushing on. Yet another wave of swimmers, this time the blue caps of the women who were up to 10 years older than me, rushed in and passed me by. My arms were shot and my lungs on fire but I could make out the shore and mentally picture myself reaching it. It was a long straight shot back to solid ground. More weeds were encountered, and I kept reaching down, desperate to feel the bottom under my feet. AFter what felt like an eternity they finally touched. I bounced like a kangaroo up out of the water, hands clasped in triumph. I made it through the first part! Now on to the transition.
My breath was still coming in short, quick gasps as I stumbled toward the storage racks. My bike was very easy to spot; it was one of very few that were left in the two age groups that were next to each other. I clumsily wiped some of the dirt off my feet and pulled on my socks and shoes, threw on my tank top and Camelback (there's no water bottle holder on my bike), and fastened my helmet. I was working on my gloves as I pushed the bike towards the starting point when I saw Stephanie watching for me. It recharged me to see a friendly face cheering me on! I jumped on the bike and immediately began to push hard; it starts on a hill. Within a split second I saw Kim and Bill waiting for me and cheering me on, double bonus! My trademark smile was on and I was ready to go. The hill stretches for quite some distance, and it was initially crowded with lots of fans who were cheering the racers on. I focused to control my breathing, which wasn't as out of control as it had been in prior races. As I looked ahead I almost didn't see Jeff, my former boss who was there to support his wife Elisia, until he called out to ask if it was me. I smiled and waved and we exchanged air fist-pumps, and I was ready to throw it in full gear and ride hard. Riding the bike is a combination of soothing and exhilarating; feeling the wind rush by as you go down a hill makes you feel so fast and weightless, while pushing and prodding up a steep hill demands so much energy but is so rewarding when you glance back and see how far you've come.
It was during the bike ride that I started thinking about limits; the limits of my abilities, both imposed by myself and by others. What I think I can do, and how I keep reaching boundaries and stretching them further. This is the meaning of growth, the ability to keep pushing and moving ahead. I never thought I could do this, but I did it! And as I looked out at the women around me, younger, older, fitter or not so much, I knew that they were out there for the same reason: to prove to themselves that they can do it too.
I saw all of my friends at some point on the bike ride, and we cheered each other on. I saw a lady wearing a TNT jersey and called out the customary "Go TEAM!" though she didn't know what to think because I wasn't wearing my customary shirt. As I pulled out onto the long final stretch back towards the lake, there was Stephanie waiting for me. I quickly saw that I had enough room to get over to the side and I slowed down enough so we could do a high-five; the bike portion was almost done. I won't deny that seeing the women crossing the finish line when I wasn't done with the bike portion was a little disheartening, but this just means I have room to improve. Better training in the water, a lighter bike with consistent training, I have a lot of ways to work to better my performance. Since the course started uphill, the downhill ending was fast and sweet. A shout out to Kim and Bill, a quick dismount, and I was ready to put the bike back on the rack and start running.
As the run is my strong area, I had high expectations for the last piece of the challenge, especially as I have consistently gotten faster over the last few months due to an improved and consistent training routine. But that didn't translate well to the last leg of a triathlon. There is a training technique called a brick; this is where you do a short run after a bike training ride to acclimate your body to the sensation of transferring between the two sports. I immediately wished I had tried it, even once. My feet shuffled forward, no more than a few inches apart it seemed. I was anxious to go but my legs felt like they were made of stone. It was almost as if I was hobbling, but I kept just pushing forward. We followed the road and turned onto a little path, and as we crossed a street there was somebody's cheerleader, complete with a boombox and a misting spray bottle. She started the song "Push It" by Salt-N-Pepa (you know I still have the cd at home!) and I couldn't resist doing a half body groove to the music; the legs weren't up for any other direction than forward. The miles stretched forever while my stride would not. Past the 2 mile marker, as I made my way up through the residential area back towards the park and the finish area, there was Stephanie again waiting to cheer me on. Her words of encouragement refueled me as I mentally pictured the last portion of the race. The run ends in Pavilion Park; there's a path that stretches along the edge and then winds south, curving enough that you can't quite see where the finish line is. You must trust your instincts, dig deep and ignore the pain, push hard, and put everything you've got into finding the end; it's there, you just have to believe. I slowly picked up my pace, ready to leave the rest of my energy on the trail, and continued ahead. Finally there it was: a strip of white tent poking behind the trees, signaling that the mat was so close. I broke into a sprint, charged past the woman next to me, and raised my hands victoriously through the chute. Another finish line, another accomplishment, another victory. No matter how much time it took, I had completed another triathlon. What a rush.
Despite a few setbacks, my friends were victorious as well, and the looks of pride and satisfaction were mirrored on the faces of all the ladies around us in the finish area. In a few short hours we had completed a challenging event, many for the first time. In doing so, we strengthened our sense of self and stretched the perceived limits we have on our bodies and minds. We've already started discussing doing the event again next year, and more events in the meantime!
