My goggles are strapped onto my
head over my swim cap. My stomach is flip flopping and all I want to do is get
in the water and swim. All I want to do is begin my first triathlon! I’m not
nervous about competing against other people. It isn’t that kind of race. I am
nervous about doing my best and about not failing myself or my family and
friends who have supported me. The line in front of me shrinks and soon it is
my turn to get in the water. It is freezing! The water has frozen the
butterflies and suddenly there is a tap on my shoulder and a “good luck today!”
Pushing off the wall, I quickly find the steady vitalistic rhythm of my swim
and the pool has once again become a watery womb of comfort. But I am swimming fast!
The adrenalin and the atmosphere have me moving far more quickly than usual. To
take my mind off the faster pace and to stop my mind from questioning whether
or not I can maintain it, I think about how I arrived at this moment…
When I was an early teen, I had
a near drowning experience while white water rafting. Since that time and up
until last year, I had been afraid to put my head under water for long periods
of time. When my husband competed in a triathlon two years ago, I decided then
that I wanted to do a triathlon. Last year when he competed, I promised the
both of us that next year it was going to be me. But I had two problems: my
doctors had cautioned me against running due to lower back problems, and I was
still afraid of swimming. I decided to deal with my fear first and the handicap
later. I took adult swimming lessons to remind myself of what I had learned as
a kid. I started swimming at least twice a week at the local pool. It was ugly
for the first year and half. As my earlier blog posts detail, my mind and body
were at complete odds with each other and most swim sessions would end with me
heaving at the end of the pool cursing my inability to get over my mental
block. Swimming 100 metres non-stop was an accomplishment. I seriously doubted
my ability to ever compete in a triathlon.
Then, one day last summer, there
was a turning point. My husband and I rode our bikes to the longest outdoor
pool in the city. Each length is 137 metres. It was a glorious day with the sky
a perfect clear blue and the sun beating mercilessly onto the swimmers and
bathers. I was mesmerized by the light dancing off the undulating water as I
lowered myself in. And I swam. It was by no means a beautiful swim, but there
was something in the freedom of the outdoor water and the warm sun hitting the bottom
of the pool that let me know that I was going to be ok. From that day on I knew
I could swim. And I knew I could compete in a triathlon. Swimming quickly
became an obsession and instead of my husband begging me to go to the pool, it
was I begging him. Writing my Bodygraphy in my last course taught me much about
the power of positive self-talk. As I learned to swim again, and as I wrote
about that experience, I also learned to coach myself internally and to believe
in myself.
I finish up the last 50 metres
with relief. Dragging myself out of the pool, my lungs are heaving with the effort
of the increased pace. I trot to the change tent and struggle out of my swim
suit. I dry myself as quickly and as efficiently as I can then struggle to get
my clothes on for the cycle and run. There is some inevitable twisting of sleeves
and my tri suit resists being pulled over my soggy skin. But I win and soon I
am off running to the transition area. The bike is next and I know I’ve got
this. When I was younger I was a runner but compressed discs and a broken coccyx
ended that fairy tale sport. The bike is now my strongest event. I once
promised myself that I would never, ever,
ever! be one of those cyclists wearing lycra and clippy-cloppy shoes. I
giggle to myself as I snap on my clippy shoes, click on my helmet and clop over
to the start of the cycle route. I’ve stopped making self-limiting promises
like that to myself. The first lap of the cycle feels like a Sunday ride so I
decide to step things up a bit for the second lap. The husband had told me not
to overdo it on the bike because I still had the run. I don’t overdo it, but I
also kick the Sunday ride to the curb. In no time the cycle is over and I am
back clopping towards the transition area. It is now time for my most
questionable event- the run.
I am painfully slow on the run
and no matter how much my body and mind want to pick up the pace, I can’t. Not
once do I feel like stopping. Not once does my body or mind scream out for the
run to end. But I just can’t run any faster. Perhaps it is a self-fulfilling
prophecy. I had told everyone that the run was going to be ugly and I am delivering
on that announcement! I make a promise to myself to not make such promises to myself
and everyone next year. Next year, I am just going to do it- no guessing on
performance!
I am standing at the finish
line, breath shuddering. My husband thinks I am about to have an asthmatic
event, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. In reality, behind my
sunglasses and with my face buried in his shoulder, I am on the verge of an
ugly cry because I have just finished my first triathlon. Once again, I find
myself at a present that I never thought would arrive. Arriving at this finish line has been a long
journey and I am incredibly proud of myself. The past hour and 47 minutes has zipped
past like a blur.
I worked so hard to reach where
I am today and while I didn’t finish very well in terms of ranking, I did well
for myself. As I wipe the post-race peanut butter from my mouth, I experience a
humbling stop moment as I think of some of my students who work incredibly hard
yet who are never at the front of the pack. These kids are resilient and they
work hard for themselves. These are the kids who, despite struggling to read or
to understand basic math facts, show me daily the incredible depths of their
minds. These are the kids that I am most proud of because of what they have
accomplished and what they will accomplish. These are the kids who have had
near drowning experiences and who may be just treading water right now or who
may be beginning to learn how to swim on their own. These are the kids that I
look forward to seeing each day so that I can learn with them and share in
their triumphs.
Reaching for a banana I think of
my Masters program and my HEAL cohearties. I hadn’t expected to have a stop
moment at the finish line of the triathlon but it because of them that I have.
I am thankful for it. I am thankful for the vitality of this day.
