Adrenaline, Anger, Achievement, Addiction... The 4 A's of My First Triathalon

So, I'm standing in a unitard next to this woman, who is more ripped than Jillian Michaels, and her fiancee, who could make the Incridible Hulk look like a weeney, feeling a little intimidated when I think, Em, this is no big deal.  You really only committed to this so that you would continue to train and make working out a priority for the past 6 months, and you lost 16 pounds in the process.  All this is is the finish.  You will finish.  You don't really care what your time is, you just want to swim as hard as you can, bike as hard as you can, and run as hard as you can.  If you don't give up, you win.  If you hate doing this, you never have to stand in a unitard next to a bunch of skinny people feeling like a unitard ever again.  And, I feel a little better.

Then the paralyzed lady climbs out of the pool after completing her swim... and the guy with one arm and no legs... then the blind guy...  And I'm crying... Standing there in my unitard, watching these incredible people with more mental toughness than anyone I've ever known completely kick my ass in a competition made for swimmers, bikers, and runners... sports that require... I don't know... having legs that work and being able to see...

And I feel like a baby for every time I wimped out of a workout because I didn't feel like it or didn't have time or I ate too much and couldn't get up from the couch... but watching them is way more inspiring than it is condemning, so I capitalize on the last opportunity I'll have to pee before I compete in this weird race thing I never really thought I'd do.

I think I need a few warm-up laps before I start the 'no turning back now' real thing, so I hop in the warm up pool and swim the fastest one length of a pool I've ever swam, gliding through the water on pure adrenaline.  Oh yeah, I forgot about that cool adrenaline gift I have in the face of competition that makes me capable of stuff I can't do in training... maybe this won't be so bad... Never the less, the next warm-up lap is not quite as smooth, and I'm wishing I wouldn't have wasted that sweet first lap on a warm-up.

Regardless, I start swimming, and I can breathe just fine, and I'm catching people and passing them and I'm not dying at all, and suddenly, it's time to get out of the pool.  The first one is over.  Sweet.  Official time?  9 minutes and 18 seconds.

So I run out, dry myself off as much as I can, put on my jacket, because I am soaking wet and it's not warm outside, hop on my bike and pedal as fast as my little legs will go.  And I realize, Uh, Em, you have 13 miles of biking and 3 miles of running yet, and you are breathing super heavy from that sprinting swim you just did.  Remember how adrenaline only really gets you so far?  Finish.  And as I'm thinking about backing off a hair, I round the halfway corner on my first of three 4 1/3 mile loops, and I hear pop...poosh... 


Front bike tire demolished.


Damnit.  Nothing I can do. Even if I happen upon someone with a bike repair kit or something, there's no way a pop like that can be fixed with a little kit. 6 months of training down the tubes cause somebody threw a beer bottle in the street.  Guess I'll start walking.  


And I'm a little angry and sad, but not a lot, which is weird knowing me.  Oh yeah, Roberts have this 'weird clear thinking when everyone else would freak out and freak out when there's no reason to' thing.  So I just start walking, knowing that someone will lend me their bike to finish the race or something.  And I start problem-solving.  Could I borrow Rachel's (Kelly Jones-Wagy's trainer/more ripped than Jillian Michaels) when she gets done?  Could I just go to the transition area and start asking people to borrow a bike when they are finishing?  That sounds like a great idea.  I'll do that.  Someone will feel sorry for me and let me use their bike to finish or they might have a repair kit of some kind.  Or, what about... Kourtney?  Kourtney!  I'll bet Kourtney has a bike that she'd let me borrow, and she's on her way here with the boys, I'll bet she could bring it over.  


Since I just happened to have my phone (because of the ipod I'd need for the running portion), I called Kourtney, she found her friend's mountain bike, and I would be back in the race.  My time would suck, but at least I could finish.  As Kourtney and I were working out the details, Kelly and Jack (my dear trusted friends who roped me into this mess) passed by me with confused looks as I tried to communicate that I had a flat but was getting a new bike in the 5 seconds it took to pass by me. It didn't work out so well since I was on the phone and they were riding by on  their bikes, and they were nice enough to come back to offer Kelly's bike.  By the time they got back, Kourtney had pulled up with my car, and as I opened the hatch to get her wonderful and kind friend's bike, my 3 year old asks, "Who is winning, Mama?  Are you winning?"
Hilarious and defeating all at once.



So I pump the tunes and set out for the run... which feels awful on rubbery legs with a side cramp because of that stupid swimming too fast adrenaline thing, but I just think, don't walk.  The faster you finish, the faster you're finished.   So I run, with no one in sight in front of me or behind me. And I round the corner, and there is the rec center!  I'm there.  I'm done.  I'm... that's an elementary school.  I am not done.  Guess I'll keep running.


So I keep running and finally, I see the incredible hulk and his fiancee cheering me on to the finish line followed by my kiddos who have been asking, "Why is it taking Mama so long to cross the finish line?  It's right there.  I could cross it by myself right now."

I'm finishing so late, there is but one person there to cut off the timing chip. (Official running time? 30 minutes and 43 seconds.)  The only people in the parking lot are my friends and my kids. (Total official time? 2 hours 4 minutes 13 seconds.)

It kinda feels crappy that I'm one of the last to finish, but at the same time, I have this super cool 'hey, I did it.' feeling of accomplishment, and I'm glad I did it, and I want to do it again.  Only next time, without the blown tire.