It's something that I'm bitten with. I can't explain it.
It was almost exactly a year ago that I decided to transform myself from a squishy couch potato into a triathlete. Now, I have a 5k and two tri's under my belt. A second 5k will be run in two weeks. Sure, why not? I began the season with a 5k, why not end it on the same note?
The Danksin was a couple of weeks ago and I have been remiss (or so my mom keeps reminding me) on not blogging about it.
The race results gave me mixed emotions.
I took on a new position at Yellowbook 5 weeks before the Danskin. So that meant two months before the race started, I began to spend longer hours at work trying to wrap up everything before I left my position in Human Resources. The house projects were in full force, and two wedding cake orders that had been put on the books before I signed up were coming due.
My time to train had become extremely limited.
My goal time was 2:10, 14 minutes less than the Pigman.
One again, I came in over that goal; this time at 2:17.
Overall, I had longer transition times on race day (I still blame that on the fact that the physical transition area was also twice the size at the Pigman), as well as a much slower pace on the bike leg despite what I felt was an easier course.
I was seriously disappointed in my time.
I dwelt on this over a post lunch race with my husband, parents, Andrea and her husband.
I had started going to spinning and had learned how to more efficiently use my legs. I was a stronger swimmer than I was even back in June.
Running..well...what was there to say about running?
I set out on the run. My calves and other muscles (whose names I regretfully don't know) protested greatly. I jogged out of transition and past my cheering group of well wishers (stopping to kiss my mom and dad as I passed). But soon I gave in to the protests and slowed to a walk.
My internal monitor protested, knowing that I was losing time and was going to come up short of my goal.
Okay, I'll run to the sign, I told myself.
And then on to that next bush.
When I get to that shady spot, I can walk.
I did that, mentally bribing myself to start running, trying desperately to keep myself to the goal of running it all.
It didn't work.
I ran, I walked, I ran some more, pushing myself harder and harder.
At one point, just before the water station at 1.2 miles, I had started to walk again.
Another runner came up behind me and put her arm around my shoulder.
"Come on. Let's run," she said.
And so we did.
We chatted a bit. She was from the Chicago area and this certainly wasn't her first tri. She was surprised at how far I had driven to compete in the race. And sadly, I don't remember her name.
I kept up with her for another half mile or so, past the water station, where she taught me to hold up two fingers and get two cups of water. (Simple, I know.)
I walked for a couple of minutes and picked up the mental push again.
Just to the tree.
Just to that sign.
To the next post, the crack in the pavement....
....hmmmm.....I lost myself.
Quit literally.
I got so lost in thought after a push that I had forgotten to give myself a new goal and I just kept running.
I didn't even notice.
That, I believe, was the highlight of the event for me.
(Well, I immensely enjoyed backstroking almost the entire swim because the gorgeous blue sky was spattered with gauzy clouds that looked like elephants, dinosaurs and even a phoenix.)
Nevertheless, I completely lost myself in something that a year ago I never thought I could possibly enjoy.
I came to this realization the next morning when I came in to work and decided to compare my race numbers against the Pigman.
Though (in my opinion) I had thoroughly bombed the transitions and the biking, I took 8 seconds off of my 100 yard swim pace and 47 seconds off my mile run pace. 6 minutes and 35 seconds less overall.
I would have taken even more off of my run except that I haven't figured out how to get through the race without needing to use the port-a-potty. Maybe next season.
I knew in June that I had become addicted to triathlons.
The Danskin just completely sealed that for me.
I announced a new goal to family and friends the Monday after the race: Olympic distance by 2015.
Okay, so in my opinion, now that I know what Olympic distance* is, 2015 seems so far away.
I'm upping that to 2012 at the latest.
I started this craziness thinking I'll do a tri, but just a sprint. Anything more is crazy. People who do Ironmans (120.6 miles total) are insane.
I don't think I'll ever get that far, but I've seriously begun to consider a Half-Ironman.
70.3 sounds like a nice round number to shoot for.
*Approximately twice a sprint distance = .9 mile swim, 25 mile bike, 6.2 mile run.
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