Entries RSS
As much as I moan, complain, and often joke about coming in last, I have never actually come in last. Not once. But this past week I came pretty dang close. For the first time, I completed a swim/run biathlon that I have forever been terrified of. It happens 18 times a year, every year, for the past 7 years that I have lived in the Santa Barbara area, but I have never once done it. I’ve done the run and the swim more times than I can count, but fear has kept me from doing both. When I realized my fear was not of drowning but instead of coming in last, I realized I had run out of excuses (no pun intended). So last week I attempted it for the first time.
I actually felt amazingly good on both legs. I remembered what my husband said (and that little blue fish from Nemo) and just kept swimming. Every time I wanted to spot the buoys or look for other swimmers, I simply did so while I kept swimming. Once on land I managed to get out of my wetsuit faster than I thought (I had visions of a 10 minute transition thanks to the new wetsuit that I swear is superglued to my body) and got myself off on the run with a few other transitioners still in site. I had some unexplained hamstring pain during the initial uphill, but is subsided quickly and I felt, dare I say, really good through the entire race. So I felt great, moved as quickly as I would have possibly imagined, and got to the turnaround with 1.5 miles left to run and. . .radio silence. No other competitors in site. One girl about a quarter mile ahead and one elderly gentleman about 100 yards ahead and that was it. How was this possible? I had fully expected to finish in the back but I felt so GOOD. How was I last? I kept on running and eventually saw a couple last stragglers behind me. But I ran the last mile and half in total silence; a vast change from the usual crowd I am surrounded with when I do only the run and finish in the middle of the pack. While quiet and a little bit lonely, I quickly grew to appreciate the peace. It was a rare moment where I just ran, with no other runners chattering nearby and no ipod; Just the salt on my skin and the breeze in my face and one lone course official directing traffic. I took a moment to yell a thank you to the officials who were still on the course, to see us last few make it in safely and I thought about how impressive and inspiring all of these back of the packers were (ok yes, toot my own horn just a tad) but seriously. I know the winners work really hard and all, but so do the rest of us! And we are out there for a long-ass time. We don’t have the satisfaction of first place medals to measure our success so we have to measure it in other ways.
I measure my success in completion of a goal. In finishing a distance I’ve never finished before. If I am not going to be known as being fast, I want to be known as being a trooper. Being known for running, swimming, biking, climbing, paddling, whatever- despite the fact that it takes hard work and the payoff lies only within my own ability to pat myself on the back. (And my parents and husband do a great job of this as well.) I took a test in the Triathlete’s Training Bible this weekend that measured natural born talent, and motivation. It was no surprise where the test thought my strengths lied. There is no doubt that I am going to need to work hard to accomplish my physical goals. But what would be the point if it all came easy? I am now on week 2 of my Olympic Distance Triathlon training program. I am looking forward to the trials and tribulations of training for a new distance.
How do you measure your accomplishments? Share your stories. I’d love to hear them.
