Trying the Tri

  

            For years the idea of completing a triathlon tempted me. It seemed to me like an ultimate test of athleticism. Anyone can excel at one endurance sport, but three?! That’s a whole different story. 

            Running? Check. I’ve definitely got that down.

Biking? Check. I became a cyclist a few years ago when I biked across the US (before that, I didn’t even own a bike). 

            Swimming? Nope. Not even close. I cried the entire time during my one and only swim lesson as a little kid. I’m no stranger to water though. I love all forms of water sports (wake boarding, jetskiing, surfing), but swimming? I didn’t know the first thing about efficient or proper form.  

            Luckily, I had friends willing to teach me. I had a few initial lessons in 2011. But it wasn’t until January of this year, 2013, that I finally bought a real swimsuit, put on a swim cap for the first time, and actually started practicing regularly under the guidance of my friend Laura, a triathlete, and my boyfriend who swam competitively in high school. The hardest thing at first was breathing. Once I got that down, it was being able to swim consecutive laps without needing to rest. I’m a runner for crying out loud, doesn’t that mean I’m in shape? Not according to the pool.

            Over the next few months I got better, and Laura convinced me to sign up for a sprint triathlon in April. The swim was only 400 meters and it was in a pool so it was the perfect choice for my first triathlon. Still, I was terrified of the swim part. That crying little kid was still in there somewhere, and sometimes in the middle of a lap, feeling isolated and surrounded on all sides by water with nothing but my own steam keeping me afloat, I could feel her presence. When that happened, my heart would pound a million beats a minute and I would need to gasp for air. Hyperventilation isn’t exactly an ideal thing to happen when you’re in the middle of water.

Surprisingly, that first triathlon went well. I swam slower than usual though (not what you’re supposed to do in a race, I know) because I wanted to make sure I remained calm and I knew the second I felt overly tired in the water, I would start hyperventilating. It worked, and before I knew it, I was out of the pool. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and slid back into my comfort zone.

The bike and run parts were exhilarating! I had a blast the entire time. I’d never raced on the bike before and it was fun seeing how fast I could go while still pacing myself. Transitions were a rush of adrenaline because they were something completely new. I felt like I was removing and putting on gear as fast as I could but really I could have cut off quite a bit of time there. My legs felt like lead after getting off the bike, but running was like being comforted by an old friend, and the finish line came much too soon.

Inspired by my first successful experience, I signed up for another triathlon at the end of the summer. This time, it would be a 500m OPEN WATER swim! My heart pounded just at the thought of it, but the only way to get over a fear is to face it, right? I doubled my training time in the pool in preparation.

I was a mess the week before the race. I kept having nightmares about being in the middle of open water. I felt pretty silly about how scared I was of a little 500m swim. Before I knew it, it was race day and I was running into the water single-file behind other racers. The water felt comforting and warm and I took a few strokes. I couldn’t see a thing underwater! Obviously I knew this would happen, I wasn’t in a nice clear pool anymore, but it was jarring all the same. Ok, this isn’t so bad, I thought over the next few strokes, see, you were making a big deal out of nothing.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, my legs suddenly got really tired. I looked at how far I had to go – I could physically SEE the distance, unlike in a pool – and that’s when I started freaking out. What was I thinking?! I’m not a good enough swimmer for this! I was getting more tired by the second, but I couldn’t stop moving or I’d sink and it’s not like there’s a pool wall to hold onto to rest out there. The reality set in that there was nothing keeping me afloat but my own tired muscles. I felt completely stranded.

I was taking huge breaths, which meant I couldn’t put my face underwater to swim normally, and the way I was swimming was so inefficient, it was making me more tired. So, I did the only thing I could think of: backstroke. I was able to get some good deep breaths this way, then went back to freestyle. I switched between the two strokes for the rest of the swim, never fully calming down enough to keep freestyling for long. Then finally after what felt like years (and later after seeing my horrendous swim time, I can confirm that it was indeed years), my feet touched the bottom of the lake and I ran out of that water as fast as I could.

I was so upset with how the swim had gone, I BOOKED it during the bike leg. In fact, when I arrived in the transition area after the swim, all of the bikes on my bike rack were gone except for mine, and when I got back from the bike leg, they were still all gone. I spent almost the entire 10 miles the left lane – which you can only be in when you’re passing someone. With each pedal stroke I could feel myself calming down and getting more and more confident. When it was time to run I felt even better. Everyone around me was complaining about how tired they were and how hard it was to run after swimming and biking. But I was loving it. I loved every minute of the race once I was out of that water.

I ended up placing 4^th in my age group – not bad for a newbie! But the competitive side of me couldn’t help noticing that if I’d only swam two minutes faster (which I was more than capable of in a pool) I could have gotten 3^rd. My biggest mistake was not training in open water. My body was fully capable of swimming the distance, but I needed to get used to that feeling of being stranded so that my mind knew it too. 

Still, I was proud of myself for conquering a pretty big fear that day. No one but myself had forced me to get in that water, and no one but myself had gotten me through it. I can’t say I conquered the actual swim though.

But some day I will.