I’ll be honest. I woke up this morning feeling completely sick. It wasn’t because I’d eaten an entire pepperoni and mushroom pizza (though I wish it was, sigh), or because I’d gotten up at 4 AM on a Sunday (though I had, another sigh). It was because I had a race today.
I know what you’re thinking: “But, doesn’t she race practically every day? What is wrong with her?” Well, there’s a lot wrong, but let’s save that for another blog :-). And yes, I do race a lot, but I mostly do running races, which are entirely within my comfort zone. Today I’m doing a duathlon, in which I’ll have to run 2.5 miles, then bike 10 miles, and then run another 2.5 miles just for good measure. Are multi-sport races in my comfort zone? Not so much.
This race is in Greenwich, Connecticut, and I’m doing it with my friend, Jeff. Jeff and I have been friends for over 20 years, so he’s known “Fat Girl”, “Fit Girl”, and all my personalities in between. When we meet up at the race site, he takes one look at me and can tell how nervous I am. And he knows why: he and I have trained a few times together, and though I can run circles around him, he knows my biking skills are pure crap. A few weeks earlier, we trained on the bike course for this race. Jeff rode more like a happy dog on an unleashed run, flying ahead of me and then turning back to make sure I was still there, then taking off again. At one point he even said, “You know, Ali, we’re going to be doing a race, not taking a leisurely ride in the country.” I remember smiling outwardly while secretly inventing a new swear word for one of my oldest and dearest friends.
Other competitors show up, and the butterflies in my stomach turn into condors as I watch them all take exceptionally high end bikes off their cars, and carry those cool aerodynamic helmets. All I can think is that I made some kind of weird mistake and accidentally signed up for a professional race. I sheepishly pull my entry level road bike out of my car, grab the helmet I bought at Target for $14 and head to my bike rack. I hang my bike on the rack and set up my stuff. I step back to look at my gear, and think that even my bicycle looks like its hanging its head in shame.
As I try to calm myself down, some of the other women whose bikes are on my rack look over at me and smile. Finally, they say, “Umm, so… do you work out … a lot?” I look down at my form fitting triathlon clothes and can see the muscle definition in my arms, legs and abdomen. I don’t really know what to say so I respond with “Yeah. Nice bike.”
When we line up, I think about something Peter K has taught me: go in with a plan. You can always adjust it, but it’s good to have some idea how you want to accomplish your goals. So, I think to myself that I’m going to run like the wind for the first leg, so that I don’t start the bike portion too far behind. We start and Jeff and I take off together. We do get passed by a few people, but they are the ones who start off too fast, and after about the first mile we overtake them. We don’t talk; we run.
We finish the first 2.5 mile run in 21 minutes, 20 seconds. Jeff knows I’m a math whiz, so he says, “21:20? What pace is that?” I smile and respond with one word: “Fast.” (Figured it out later: that was an 8:34 pace. The hell with running like the wind; the wind blows like Jeff and me :-). Our bikes are on different racks and Jeff is much better than me, so this is where we split up. I hop on my bike and go. When Jeff and I practiced the route, we learned that it’s relatively flat with a few rolling hills, and two big steep ones. On the flat parts I get passed repeatedly, and have to keep reminding myself to push it and go faster. On the first hill, I giggle a little. Here I was intimidated by all those high end bikes, and now I see several people off their bikes, walking them up the steep incline. For those reading this blog, here’s a lesson learned: the best bike in the world won’t help you if you don’t train on it.
We hit another flat part and I again lose ground. Then we get to the bigger of the two hills. I drop my bike into a low gear and start climbing. It’s hard, and I start doubting myself. I want to get off my bike and walk, too. But then I think of another thing that Peter K taught me: believe in yourself and you can do anything. I put that sentence into my own words when I think to myself: “Al, you’re an athlete. Get the f*** up the hill.”
I finish that hill, and the rest of the bike is a breeze, well as much of a breeze as it can be given that I can’t quite feel my quads anymore. When I get back to the transition area, I rack my bike, (and smile again; more than half the high end bikes on my rack aren’t back yet. Mine may be low end, but at least I could bike the damned course on it), and head off for the last run.
The first few minutes are tough; my legs are trying to adjust from biking to running. I work through the pain by admiring the beauty of the Greenwich waterfront, and frankly inventing even more swear words to describe my good friend Jeff who got me into this whole thing. Finally, my legs say, “Ohhhhh!!! You want us to run now. Why didn’t you say so?” My brain wants to tell my legs to kick themselves in the ass, but instead I just enjoy the release of muscle tension and continue through the course.
Near the end, I see a few people in front of me, and for pure fun I sprint and pass them. I cross the finish line and see Jeff waiting for me. He looks a little flummoxed, as he says, “I only got here 8 minutes ago. How did you do that?” I smile for about the hundredth time today as I answer: “I biked right out of my comfort zone.”
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