The day I became a triathlete

I once read a quote that said "Being an athlete is a state of mind which is not bound by age, performance, or place in the running pack."  This weekend, I proved that to myself. 

This past Christmas I decided that I my weight loss had gotten stuck and I had started to slide.  I needed a goal.  I needed something to work towards.  After watching the Biggest Loser contestants run a marathon, I really started getting serious about doing some sort of a race.  I registered for the James O'Rourke Memorial Trialthlon and started my training exactly 4 months from the date of the race.  Over those 4 months, I learned how to swim (and knock my swim time down by 8 minutes!), I built up speed on the bike, and I added some serious mileage to my running.  But this blog entry isn't about what I did for the 4 months.  This isn't about the anticipation and the blisters and the tears and the ungodly amount of sweet potatoes that I ate.  This is about the day that I became a triathlete.  A play by play breakdown of how I changed from ordinary Brittany McDaniel to Brittany McDaniel, the triathlete.

April 28th, 2012
5:45 a.m. - I woke up, loaded my bike onto my bike rack, grabbed my hard boiled egg, two bananas, and a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter, and after checking my bags one more time and adding my two bottles of half frozen water, I kissed my sleepy husband good-bye and headed out the door.

6:10 a.m. - The sun wasn't even quite up yet and I was the 3rd (!!!!) person to rack my bike.  I was beyond estatic.  I got the front end of the first rack, which meant my bike was easy to find and my T2 transition was super fast. I hung my bike by its seat and set my bag beside it and went inside to eat my breakfast.

6:30 a.m. - I went out and set up my transition station.  I double checked the two gels I had taped onto my bike (I would be so glad I did this later on in the race), threw one towel over my bike and set the other on the ground, hung my helmet on my handlebars with my race belt and sunglasses tucked inside, and then set out my shoes with rolled up socks on top of them, my tri shirt, my spare water bottle, extra sunscreen, and my headband and necklace on the towel. 

6:40 a.m. - From this time until 7:30 a.m. was the most painful part for me.  I didn't know anyone else who was racing that day so I felt like an awkward middle schooler hanging around in the gym, so I just found a quiet corner and watched the water drip from the ceiling into the pool. 

7:30 a.m. - I finally changed into my suit and jammers and got marked on both arms and legs.  After a layer of sunscreen, I put my sweats back on and checked my transition station one last time. 

7:55 a.m. - Timing chip clipped on.  I thought that they would be annoying and awkward, but I didn't even realize that I was wearing one, which I was thankful for.

8:00 a.m. - Pre-race meeting.  I think I heard about 10 words that the race director said (Sorry, Brock!) because I was too busy looking around at all the different layers of outfits that people were wearing and how skinny (and not skinny) some of the competitors were.

8:35 a.m. - Race begins.  I was #55, so I knew I wouldn't be seeing the pool for a bit.  I talked with some really awesome friends and got my picture taken with them because Allison had even made a sweet shirt, and after a final application of carmex, I grabbed my swimming gear and headed to the pool. 

8:50 a.m. (From this point on, I had no idea what time it was) - I did a warm up of about 6 short laps in the deep end of the pool and was feeling pretty good.  Not many nerves and I had finally stopped shaking.  I watched a bunch of swimmers do their thing and then they called my number.

The Swim - I was nervous about the swim from the start.  During the practice run on Tuesday, I completely panicked and lost all sense of form and there was no evidence of the training lessons that I had been participating in.  I was in the far lane of Lane 6, which meant I was up against the wall part of the time and the deep end the other part.  I just kept telling myself that I just had to get through 20 lengths and the rest would be easy.  I stopped once to adjust my swim cap, but other than that, I swam the whole time and was happy to hop out of the water. (12:11 was my swim time)

T1 - My first transition was near flawless. My socks and shoes went on without a flaw and I even managed to wrangle my shirt without a struggle.  I was glad a friend loaned me a race belt so I didn't have to deal with safety pins.  Since it was a smaller race and the swim was a rolling start, the rack area was not nearly as congested as I expected it to be which made life a lot easier.  I waved to my audience and headed out. (1:28)

The Bike - I was so glad that I had taped two gel packs to my bike.  I ate a decent breakfast at 6:15ish but then I spaced off eating my second banana because I was so nervous.  I settled into a good gear and once I got up some speed and had strapped my feet in (I rode in just my running shoes and used the straps on my pedals) I downed a gel and felt quite a bit better.  I knew going out that there were two overpasses at the beginning and then a fairly level area with two decent hills before the turn around.  I passed a few people on the way out, but everyone was struggling against the headwind.  At the turn around point, I didn't know what to expect because there have been a few rides where I thought I was in a headwind and then when I turned, was proven wrong, but I lucked out.  I flew through the second half and it was probably my fastest split ever.  On the last half mile, I downed another gel just for good measure, which was really fairly silly as it was a fairly short race, but then I stretched out my calves and hamstrings and discovered that my toes were super cold (from wet socks and shoes and lots of wind) and that did not do me any favors getting off the bike and heading out on the run. (50:09)

T2 - The best part about waking up super early and leaving your kickstand on your bike?  Your T2 is crazy short! I slid my bike into place, wiggled my toes while unclipping my helmet and grabbed my headband and tri necklace on the way.  (0:19)

The Run - Heading out for the run was my "Dude! I'm really going to finish this!" moment.  I didn't want to burn out 100 yards from the end so I took a comfortable pace and focused my efforts on encouraging everyone that I met on the route.  Some were hardened tri-vets who looked at my like I was nuts but there were also people like me who were loving every minute of it. When I rounded that last corner and gave what I had left, the grin that I had been wearing the whole race just took over. I may not have run my fastest time, but I hadn't walked a step! (31:37)

The Finish - Crossing the finish line and seeing the faces of all of the people who had come just to sit and watch my bike and run by for a few seconds over the course of 2 hours, was beyond humbling.  I smiled and danced and laughed myself silly.

The Aftermath - After my husband helped me load up my transition station, I showered and waited around for awards.  I didn't expect anything, but I figured it was the polite thing to do.  In my head I had it figured that I came pretty close to 1:45, which was what I had set as my ultimate fastest time possible goal, and I knew that I had passed one girl on the bike that was in my age division so I knew that I was not last.  While they were announcing the top three finishers in each age division, my swimming coach and all around fantastic mentor came jogging over to me. 

"I've been looking everywhere for you.  I wanted to be the one to show you."

And there was my name.  Beside a "4."  A 4?  I turned my head into her shoulder and finally cried.  With a time of 1:35:46, I placed 4th in my age division and 10th of out the women.  I am a triathlete.  And I can tell you every tear,  drop of sweat, sore muscle, sunburn, dollar, bruise, and dirty dish was worth it. 

I'm doing things I never thought I could do.

Stop. Just watch a minute.

So, this past week has been a nut house.  I've been leaving my house at 6:00 a.m. and not getting back home until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m.  By the time this week is through, I will have survived a few tornadoes, and lot of rain/hail, planned and executed a Wednesday night supper as a youth group fundraiser, taught 5 zumba classes in four days, spent 7 hours training for the triathlon next week, worked 42 hours, had several intense theological discussions, played board games with some people, and chose not to deal with my stanky workout clothes or dishes that are piling up.  I feel like I have been two steps behind in everything and I've had a severe case of "the stupid" which has affected my job as well as my home life.

Today, I was on empty.  I was counting down the hours until I would finally walk into my house and be able to fall into my own bed.  I was cranky and frazzled looking all day and after a bike ride, a zumba class, a full day of work,as well as a supper in a hot kitchen with a the youth group making baked potatoes, the last thing I wanted to do was go teach another Zumba class. But, I had agreed to help out a friend and serve as the program for her women's group and I felt like it was definitely too last minute to back out.  I showed up, did my thing, and afterwards when we were enjoying our fruit and crackers, I saw something that made my world stop.

Sitting at the table on the other side of the room, there was this woman, I don't know her name so will will call her Lily.  Lily  looked to be about 70, was in a wheelchair with well wore moccasins on her feet and long, beautiful fingernails graced the end of  hands that were cramped and disfigured with some sort of illness. She spoke softly and had a gentle smile, but it wasn't just her that caught my attention, there was someone with her.  We'll call him Stan. (because again, I didn't even catch his name).  Stan is maybe in his 30's.  He's seemed a little rough around the edges and looked like he had worked hard all day.  Here he was spending his evening with a group of women to care for Lily.  Bless his heart, he even Zumbaed with us. Now, I don't know if Stan and Lily are related, but watching him get her a  water and a plate of fruit was maybe this most meaningful thing I have seen in a long time.  He served her with a smile and whisper and took care of her by getting a fork for her banana and a straw for her water because she couldn't grip the glass.  Never once did he sigh in exasperation on his 14 trips to and from the kitchen and after she was settled, he sat next to her and quietly ate his fruit, sharing some of what he got with her, if she looked at crosswise at what was on his plate.

This past week has been a whirlwind for me, but this brief moment, these series of intimate and loving interactions between two people who had no idea I was looking, slapped me to a halt.  I have spent the past 48 hours bemoaning the fact that I had so much to do and blah-de-blah-de-blah that I had completely lost the reason for why I am living the way that I do.  I had gotten so caught up in the busy-ness and the frantic-ness that was this week, that I completely forgot about the One that I was doing it all for.

The world is in desperate need of more people like Stan.  People who are willing to serve without a sigh of frustration, people who will love unconditionally no matter what the hardship or struggle in front of them, people who are willing to serve day in and day out without looking around all the time to make sure someone is watching and seeing the good that they are doing.  So, Stan, where ever you are,  here is my one person standing ovation for you.  Here is my thank you note to you, a tired looking man just trying to make an old lady happy. Thank you.  Thank you for making me stop, and for just one moment, watch and think about someone else for five minutes.  My perspective has been rightfully corrected because of you.   Thank you for putting me in my place with nothing but a smile.