This past Saturday, I raced
Multisport Canada’s Gravenhurst Triathlon. It wasn’t my first time, and it won’t be my last. This triathlon has become a family
affair. Four years ago, I raced
the duathlon as I was still resisting my fear of the water. Three years ago, I convinced my sister
to race the try-a-tri, and my brother to race the Olympic with me. And that was the birth of a family
duel. I would race my brother
again last year, and again this year.
 |
| My sister Caroline pre-try-tri |
Triathlon is not always a race against
an opponent. Most often, I would
argue, it’s a race against yourself.
Your last year self, your ten-year ago self, and your day-of-race self. On Saturday, I was not feeling
race-ready.
Excuse #1: After racing the
Welland ½ Ironman distance on June 29, I have had a massive kink in my
back. (Shout out to John Salt,
race director, who personally congratulates everyone after the race). That race
killed me. (Or was it the heels I wore the night before?)
Excuse #2: It’s summer, and I am
a teacher who lives in Mexico. I
come home and kind-of party like a 36 year old gal with no kids does.
Excuse #3: I have a nerve issue
that I have self-diagnosed as trigeminal neuralgia. When it flares up, I am rendered a teary mess that can’t
even take off my shoes. True
story.
So Friday night rolls around and
I decide to assemble my bike that has been disassembled since the ½ (3 weeks
ago). I hadn’t ridden since. I
have a massive internal dialogue going on that ping-pongs from, you don’t have to do it Diane, to, face your fear Diane, to, discover your edge Diane, to, the pain in your ear will be gone tomorrow
to it’s never been bad on race day.
“If what you resist persists, then learn to say yes! To every experience, as resisting
nothing is the real secret to accessing ease and flow.” (51% on Kindly version of the book).
I mull over the phrase as if it
‘s the first time I have been exposed.
But the truth. I have heard
this again and read it again, and spoken about it again, but this is life. It’s the he practice of applying
nuggets again and again, and maybe again, until the practice becomes a
habit.
So while I am habit forming, my
sleep is rustled. I toss and turn
because I can’t sleep on my left ear, I can’t sleep on my right, and I can’t
sleep with my forehead propped on a pillow. And I can’t sleep on my back. I try every combination possible to a
person in drift, and at 4:00am the alarm sings out as if I had actually been
sleeping and needed waking up. The
best dreams happen when we are awake.
My sister wakes up and hasn’t yet
decided whether she wants to come.
4:00 is early, and the drive is long. At 4:25 she still hasn’t decided (but is fully dressed) and
at 4:30, I see that it’s her who starts the car. That's dedication.
***
(I am experimenting with these little asterisks … kind of flash
forward/back kind of asterisks)
We get to Gravenhurst and I check
in with a lot of time to spare. I
meet up with a high school friend who says she’s not so nervous, but I see
myself in her, so I know better. And
we ferry out to the jump. I think
I will keep my cap over my ear so that the water doesn’t aggravate it, but when
I put it on, it pulls my skin, and the invisible needle (of ten years) jabs me
hard. I can’t do that. And I voice my dilemma so that everyone I am with
knows. Because speaking about it makes
me feel like just in case I get pulled out of the water, they will know that I
had a reason. An excuse.
And up until this point. I am unconvinced, that I could race
this race. Sound familiar?
But I had decided the night
before that I was going to embrace this problem; and oh it has caused me
strife. This ear whatever-it-is.
And I jump. Come to the surface (my least favorite
place to be in open water) and tilt my head from side to side.
Gone. The pain is gone.
Completely. I take a few
practice strokes to confirm, and it is gone!
So the steam engine blows and
that’s that. Race anxiety
dissipates. It’s not anxiety
anymore, it’s determination. I was
able to get behind someone my pace early on and as we rounded the first buoy, I
feel good. We are a pack of about
six girls swimming together … completely off course. So when I realize this, I go on my own and sight for the buoys
ahead. Shortly after, I am passed
by a yellow cap.
***
In Gravenhurst there are four
heats. Each has a different
colored cap. So first went the
white caps, then red (my brother’s heat), then pink (my heat) then yellow.
***
Revelling in the fact that I don’t
have pain in my ear, I enjoy the swim, feel no panic, and finish in a
reasonable time. I even pass two
red caps.
As we exit the water (I come out
with a yellow cap), the crowd cheers and we run (or leap) our way up to T1 (transition
one).
I rip my wetsuit off, put my
glasses on (as per Chrissie wellington’s race tips), put my helmet on (if you
unrack your bike before you put your helmet on, you get a penalty), put my race
belt and shoes on and run for the mount line.
***
The bike in Gravenhust is
amazing. You work you way out of
town and then climb and roll, climb and roll. It’s an out and back, so you get to see everyone ahead of
you, and everyone behind you. This
matters. You get to cheer people
on face to face. Words of
encouragement are precious gifts that you can give and receive along the way
(race or not).
***
I take my feet out of my shoes
and run my way in and out of transition in 1:04 flat (my fastest transition
ever). As I stride onto the run
course, I ask my sister who was marshalling at an intersection, “How far ahead
is he?”
“About 10 minutes,” she responds. And I know I have to run hard. Ron, my brother started the race in the wave before me. He had a five-minute advantage, which
means that he was five race minutes ahead.
 |
| That is definitely me yelling ... |
***
Last year, Ron started five
minutes in front of me as well.
When we finished the race, and eagerly awaited the results, I sat and reflected
on the race itself. During T2 I
gave myself 30 seconds to find an Advil.
When I couldn’t find it, I gave up and set on my way. Now, below are the results from last
year.
 |
| I am sure people thought we were a married couple racing together. Nope. Totally in it to win it. |
Ron beat me by 22 seconds. And although I don’t race against
others in all races, I definitely do in some. This was one of them.
***
Hense, the 1:04 transition.
I work my way to the first water
stand and feel pretty good. There is a bounce in my step and I am not cramping like I do in Mexico. I start to pick up my pace and when I
hit the 3km mark, I begin to do the math. If Ron is 10 minutes ahead of me and we were running at a
pace of about 5:30/km, I would see him at about 750m before the turn
around. So when I approach that
point, I am happy not to have seen him yet. This means I am gaining on him. About 200m before, I sight him (like a hunter would it’s
prey) and yell, “How far ahead are you?”
His reply, “You’re probably going
to beat me.”
We take this race seriously. He can’t even answer my question.
So I speed up. At about 7km I can see him walking up ahead in the distance
(insert Hotel California Lyrics here).
I speed up even more, and at around 8km I make the pass grinning, and
singing, “This magic moment …” It’s
all I have, and it seems perfect for the occasion of brotherly-sisterly combat.
He gives it one last burst, but
that was it.
 |
| Pretty rockin' attitude for a loser. :) |
Feeling elated again, I slow up
to get some water from the last water stand. Instead of making a clean break, I trip on my foot and start
lunging for the ground, shit, I am going
to break my wrists, don’t break with your hands. I quickly (like Matrix mid air kind-of-quickly) twist my
body and manage to pull off a stunt-woman worthy shoulder roll. I pop up and assured the volunteers,
“I’m ok!” And I truly was.
A gal behind yells out, “Don’t
worry, your brother didn’t see that!”
“He would have loved it.” I
holler back.
With a scratch on my knee and a
laugh in my belly, I set off for the finish line.
The race clock is always a
mystery in heated waves because you don’t know when it was actually
started. As I made my way into the
chute, I saw my other brother and my niece. It’s always great to be cheered in.
***
Gravenhurst is am amazing
triathlon and Multisport Canada does a fantastic job of organizing. From the steamship jump, to the swim
in. The hilly and scenic bike, and
challenging run, the course is designed to challenge and inspire.
I questioned whether I could do
this race right up until I took the plunge (literally). And what a lesson it was. I took myself to my edge (of the boat)
and I jumped. And that was all I
needed to do.
 |
| We'll be back! |
