Race Day

This was a proud moment for me. August 20, 2006, at 17.9 or so of 18 frustrating and technically flawed miles, after a 450 yd. swim during which I couldn't breathe ( I was soon thereafter diagnosed with allergy-related asthma; I love St. Louis), and before a 5k (3.1 mi) run that was hillier, and therefore much harder, than the 5 miler in Central Park just two months prior. It was officially my 2nd triathlon, my first being a longer swim ( I could breath for that one), shorter bike and run that was noncompetitive and truly fun. Two of my biggest fans were there for both (I couldn't ask Dad to drive 7 hours to see me as I ran/rode by waving-but he was there in spirit), and were so proud and so patient when I was stressed and cranky for the "real" one, pictured above.

I felt so cool when I got to the check-in area at 6:30 that morning, got my race packet and start time, and got my number written down my right arm and leg in big, permanent black marker. If they had told me that tattooing the numbers was an option, I would've had to have a think. I tried to act the part, warming up and concentrating, all the while trying not to wobble as I walked, feeling the butterflies doing tumbling routines in my stomach. I just didn't want to come in dead last, or wipe out on the railroad tracks ( I wiped out, but not on the tracks-my chain came off going up the steepest of many hills about 4 miles in), or drown in what I knew would be an ugly, gasping, rhythmless swim. Above all, I wanted to finish. I knew I had trained for it, and trained well, so not finishing for any reason would be all that much harder, knowing that I could do it all on a normal training day. Race day is different, though-the energy is intoxicating. It's much easier to doubt yourself when everyone is so amped up on adrenaline and nervousness.

I did it obviously-my official time was 2:05:57 (my start time was 32 min after the first participant), and my times leave room for much improvement. Next year, breathing easily and strong on hills, I'll come in first place-ahead of me. And then, in keeping with tradition, bring on the pasta!

How many people can call themselves triathletes? I wear it proudly. Now get out from behind the computer and go train for something! As my old PE teacher used to say during our yearly timed-mile drill "your body is LOVING this!"

I highly recommend training for something you could never have imagined, and take a couple of great cheerleaders with you-thanks, again Mom, Bryan, et al!