One Year Ago Today

Man, how time flies.  One year ago today, at this time, I was working, and trying not to think about the fact that I was going to do a triathlon in 2 days.  One year ago today was the celebration dinner to applaud the commitment to training that my friends and I had completed, and to share in the excitement of it all coming to fruition the following Sunday.

This week, I've seen a lot of Facebook posts about pre-triathlon jitters/nerves/worries/weather concerns, etc. from the amazing group of ladies that I helped mentor this year.  It really brought me back, so I thought I'd share my own recollection of concerns on that week that I had last year, that is oh so similar to what many of these great ladies are feeling right now.  Hopefully it will help quell fears, drown worries and get them pumped for this coming Sunday, when they will become triathletes.  No matter what these ladies accomplish in their lives from that moment forward, they will always have the right to call themselves triathletes.

Here is a little summary of the days leading up to my very first triathlon in July 2012.  Two weeks prior to the race, we'd gone on vacation to New York, to celebrate the anniversary of my in-laws.  While I was fretting over missing that week's training, and so close to the actual triathlon, I did get in a very successful run session, in the wide open country, with beautiful, inspiring scenery, and I got in LOADS of swim time.  I had my husband's entire family cheering for me in the pool, as I practiced drills and swimming 250 meters almost daily, with my husband timing me and throwing back yard celebrations whenever I would beat my previous time by seconds.

Cut to just a couple days before leaving to head back to North Carolina.  I had neglected to faithfully use my swimmer's ear drops while on vacation, and suddenly I was faced with severe pain in my left ear.  I went to an urgent care in New York, where I was given antibiotics that essentially did nothing.  I was so miserable that taper week, for me, became "writhe on the couch in pain and force back tears week".  I was bummed.  I missed the taper week social activities for my group, and, ultimately made a last-minute decision to visit yet another urgent care, this time in Charlotte, to see if swimming would even possible for my upcoming race.  Fortunately, I went just in time.  After getting what can only be described as a tiny tampon viciously jammed inside my ear canal in order to open the passage to allow for antibiotics in the form of ear drops to enter, and the suggestion of using an earplug for that ear during the triathlon, I was sent on my way.

During our celebration dinner, I couldn't hear what anyone to my left at our dinner table was saying.  I said, "huh", more times than I could count, and I just felt...off.  I was sad.  All my training partners were celebrating wonderful, progressive, last-minute training success stories, and I was too embarrassed to admit that I had done absolutely nothing physicial that entire "taper" week.  Unless you count visiting the grocery store for comfort food.  I did lots of that.

I worried that I would get a flat tire on my bike and that I would be too nervous to remember the things I learned during the tire change clinic.  I fretted over forgetting essential items for my transition area.  I worried that it would be too hot, or too rainy, too muggy or just overall uncomfortable.  I worried about how lacking the sense of hearing to some degree might mess with my body.  I worried that my nutrition was crap.  I worried that I would get sunburned.  I stressed about where my husband would park when he arrived to the race to cheer me on, and what my mom would do to occupy time since she planned to ride to the race site with me and would have a couple hours to kill.  I worried about how I looked in my tri suit and about the inevitable barrage of photos I'd be tagged in on Facebook, where I was wearing tight spandex.  I thought about my knee troubles I'd had during training, and wondered what to do if it hurt on race day.  I tried to estimate the number of ounces of water I would swallow during the swim, and wondered if chlorine was a diuretic, or if I could consider pool water to be legitimate hydration.  Where would I keep my cell phone?   Where was my transition area going to be, and would it be near people that I knew?  The list was absolutely ENDLESS.

But on race day, on glorious race day- I was calm.  The swim felt like a dream sequence.  Hard to explain, but I never once hyperventilated, like I tended to do during nearly every swim practice.  My breathing was calm and controlled.  When I was tired, mentors were there to cheer me on.  When I was done with the swim, it felt so surreal.  So much easier than I had imagined, planned for.  Oh yes, a calm, peaceful swim, cut short only by the realization that my earplug had fallen out mid-swim, was stuck in my hair and the side of my swim cap, and aforementioned tiny ear tampon had become filled with water and was inching it's way out my (still deaf) ear.

The bike went well too.  I made it up the dreaded hill both loops without issue, proud of the fact that due to my awesome training, I was NOT one of the many who jumped off their bikes on that hill and walked.  No sir, I was PREPARED.  I did have a little issue with my gears at the end of the course, but nothing earth shattering.  The bike was probably my favorite part.  I even reached down and grabbed my water bottle to drink, without stopping.  Something I couldn't do nearly all 12 weeks of training.

The run wasn't phenomenal, but I didn't (and still don't) consider running my strongest part of the race.  The run is where I started to feel the heat.  I was sweaty.  The running tank I'd thrown on over my tri suit kept riding up.  My sunglasses got foggy.  My legs felt like the heaviest lead known to man.  Somehow all my bricks combined didn't feel as bad as that run did, yet still, I finished it.  Sandy, one of my most favorite mentors saw my struggle near the end of the run and came out (after finishing her own race, mind you) and ran the last leg with me, cheering me on, pepping me up, and lighting a fire under me.  She ran right alongside of me just up until the finish line was approaching and she vanished, letting me have all the glory of finishing my very first triathlon.

The next few minutes were a blur.  I remember someone handing me a water bottle, the cold metal of the finisher's necklace around my neck, my husband taking pictures and hugging me, my mom beaming proudly, friends chattering about their estimated finish time.  It was all so surreal.  Then it hit me- I really had to PEE.  I think I had to pee around the time the race actually started for me, so nearly an hour and a half later, I had to bolt to the restroom.

And there I sat.  Alone on the john with my thoughts:

"I just finished a triathlon."

"I am a triathlete."

"I just swam, biked and ran, and now I'm done.  I'm a triathlete."

"I don't know what this means for future fitness endeavors, but right now, as I sit on the toilet and take the most rewarding pee of my life, I can honestly say- and no one can take it away from me- that I am a triathlete.  Something I never even fathomed."

I was a mother 'effin triathlete.  And after Sunday, they will be too.