Reluctant Triathlete

Watching my husband compete in two Arizona Ironman events, I felt a variety of emotions. My first emotion was relief. Relief that I wasn't in that mass of swimmers. The bodies packed tightly together, kicking one another, looked not only unappealing, but scary to me. The second emotion was pride. Pride in my husband for being motivated to train for and compete in such a daunting athletic event. He didn't even seem nervous. I also had a sense of awe. Awe in the variety of participants, from the pro triathletes who practically glided through each event, to the slowest and oldest participants, who had set a goal for themselves and were going to complete the event no matter what pain and discomfort they were in. The finish line at night, when the regular athletes finished, was an amazing sight. It almost made me want to try one.

I'm not a triathlete. That's my husband's thing. I'm a runner. I'm pretty good at running, too. I qualified for the Boston Marathon with a 3:40 run at the CIM (California International Marathon), then ran Boston in 2008 and finished with exactly the same time. In my age group, I'm pretty fast at short events, too. I can run about a 22 minute 5K. Here in the Central Valley, I compete in a lot of local events and take home hardware regularly. Basically, I'm comfortable and happy with my feet on the ground and my head facing forward to breath. Running has always come naturally to me.

I know, though, that some of the best things in life come from challenging myself to get out of my comfort zone. So, therein lies the reason why I'm signed up to do the Olympic Distance event at the Wildflower Triathlon this year. My husband's doing the Half Ironman distance. We're bringing the kids and camping out. We've joined a triathlon team (TC3 -- Tri Club Central California). Between now and May 2, I'm going to (1) Learn how to swim and (2) Make sure I can get my feet unclipped from my bike.

I once participated in a local sprint distance triathlon. During the 400 yard swim, I spent a lot of time floating on my back doing the back stroke. I'm very inefficient in my swimming. Very un-Michael Phelps-like. All I felt after the swim was a tremendous sense of relief. Relief that I hadn't drowned. Relief that I was done. I didn't enjoy it. So, I've signed up to take a swimming class through our local community college. I start on February 23. I don't expect to become a great swimmer, but I hope to be able to avoid my signature back float at Wildflower.

My husband is my cycling coach. We're going to try to go for some rides. So far, we haven't been on any. Today, though, we're going to really make it out on the open road. I'm looking forward to it. It's our Valentine's date. He also has some videos and a thing that you can put your bike on to ride in place. I guess I'll do that, too. He set it up for me a couple of weeks ago, but I walked right by it and ran on the treadmill instead. It's a comfort zone thing.

So, now I'm a triathlete, I guess (or will be by May 2). Even though I'm going to work on my swimming and cycling, I know it is going to be with a tremendous sense of joy that I get off my bike and head out on the 10K run. I will be proud of myself at that finish line, even though I won't be winning any speed records. And who knows? If all goes well, maybe someday you'll see me doing an Ironman, too.

Above picture is from Boston Marathon finish area (April, 2008).