You feel the fear, and then Do It anyway

Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid, NY

"In trying to make it totally risk-free (which is impossible) it becomes sterile and devoid of the essential elements that make it attractive."

On July 7 I received two email messages with a Philadelphia Inquirer op-ed piece attached, and the paper version of the same article spread across my keyboard at work. In "The Chaotic Waters of Triathlons," writer and triathlete Megan Williams was assigned by the Inquirer to write on the topic of "the dangers of triathlon" in reaction to the death of first-time triathlete Derek Valentino in the sprint-distance Philadelphia Insurance Triathlon the previous Saturday.

I don't know why Valentino died. The family had every right to not release that information to the press. Usually an underlying medical issue is to blame.

Well, it worked. Mission accomplished. My friends and family are now armed with "proof" that what I am going to do is dangerous. After all, if it was in the newspaper -- and written by a triathlete no less -- then it must be true. The fact that it led off with an alarming description of the swim at the venue where I will be competing next week made me panic. If it upset me, after nothing but positive experiences in three seasons of racing triathlon at every distance except IM, and after training a solid 10 months for this year's Ford Ironman Lake Placid, I can only imagine what goes through the heads of people who don't participate.

Williams' piece described a horrific scene during the swim at Ironman Lake Placid in 2001. When I read her words, none of the training, the experience, the help and advice from my team and our swim coach --none of that -- staved off the panic. The walls closed in around me and I sat at my desk in tears.

Since that day I have been asked about it by other well-meaning people and I don't blame them. Reading an alarmist scare story about the triathlon swim plays on the deepest fears of anyone who has never done one.

But right now I need piece of mind and to focus on race prep, trip planning, housekeeping while we are away, and most importantly, having the time of my life in Lake Placid. So I am writing this down today so that I can put it aside once and for all and concentrate on what is going to be for me one of my greatest accomplishments.

If I sent you a link to this blog post in response to your concern for me, it is not because I don't appreciate that you care about me. I hope you understand that. So here goes:

I learned to swim three years ago. I am quite comfortable in the open water. Not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but comfortable. But because my performance in the swim is the weakest of the three disciplines, and because I have never done a mass swim start (in which all 2,000+ athletes begin at once, rather than in the small group "waves" of shorter distance races), there is of course room for a bit of fear. I thought I was managing it very well. Guess not.

Lucky for me I have some very good friends. One in particular is a triathlete from the area near Chester England who regularly volunteers for the Chester Tri Club's women-only beginner's triathlon. Terry was outraged by the op-ed and wrote to the author pointing out the alarmist nature of her account. Her reply was, "I'm sorry you disagree with my personal perspective, but after all, this is the point of the Op-Ed section of the paper: to promote dialogue..." and then "...I would appreciate not hearing from you again."

So much for dialogue.

Williams copied in a few people from various triathlon organizations in the area, including a USAT board member. On a roll, Terry wrote to them as well and received some very thoughtful replies, one of which stated, and I think it's worth publishing for you to read here,

I remember my first Placid all too well--I wasn't sure I would even make it to the second loop of the swim, let alone finish the race. Of course, it was a tremendous experience start to finish. Your friend is in for a great day. Please let her know that the swim is the easiest and most comfortable one I've ever done--you don't even need to sight, the water is so clear you can just follow the underwater rope lines connecting the buoys.

This is the reality I heard from my team mates who participated at Lake Placid in 2008 and 2009. It is what my swim coach tried to impress upon me. I know it's true, logically, but when you read a horror story, for some reason it makes an impression.

That account sounds so different from the printed story in the Philadelphia Inquirer. Ms. Williams, by contrast, called the swim "hellish." Why didn't she quote the person above, whom she consulted for her story, in an attempt to accurately illustrate that you can expect as many different experiences in a race as there are people racing? Instead the title of her op-ed suggests that the swim of any triathlon is "chaotic."

Not everyone has an experienced team to turn to for guidance and support. Most people don't. And I know I am very lucky to have such wonderful friends. Terry did a little digging and presented this to me:

Also I just checked out the full results for IMLP 2009 and guess how many DNFs [did not finish] there were on the swim? Go on have a guess.
In fact I will let you have three guesses.
Go on. Guess.
Ready for the answer?
0
None
Not one DNF on the swim.
Everyone got out of the water and on to a bike. Nobody bailed in the swim.
If you don't believe me then scroll down to the bottom of this link
http://www.runtri.com/2009/07/ironman-usa-lake-placid-2009-results.html

I think it's been a very long week for him as he has written and responded daily to the writer and the greater Philadelphia triathlon community in addition to all of my concerns as they popped up.

I am convinced now that her piece was a very poor "thin slice" of the experience of the triathlon swim. As Terry wrote in response to a question about preparing new triathletes

...Safety in training is mostly just common sense .... Join a running club, join a cycling club, join a swimming club or join a tri club because there are people with lots of experience and lots of advice that will help you out. But, triathlon is not a risky sport in the spectrum of sports available. In trying to make it totally risk-free (which is impossible) it becomes sterile and devoid of the essential elements that make it attractive. The massive growth in triathlon participation is testament to it's increasing attractiveness so let's get some balance in the debate. Megan [Williams] isn't interested in balance. But that's just her opinion.

In the end there is something positive I am taking away from all of this. Rather than sweeping my uncertainties aside to possibly surface as I enter Mirror Lake on July 25th for the swim start, they have now been fully addressed. I am traveling to Lake Placid knowing that I am well prepared, well-trained, and ready to have absolutely the greatest day. There will be fear. It's very much like stage freight. But you feel the fear, and then you just Do It anyway.

Happy New Year!

On my birthday a month and a half ago, I was asked what was my favorite year so far. I said "this year was certainly the best, although if I'm allowed to combine it with last year, I'd say these past two years blow all the others away by far." The answer took my friend by surprise. I guess usually people reminisce about when they were younger or something, Money and world affairs aside -- on a purely personal level -- 2008 was awesome.

Words to guide me in the New Year . . .

Teaching learning growing yearning
Reaching falling trying flying
Waiting bearing willing daring

Pushing leaving pressing yielding
Leaning back
Sewing gleaning working pleasing
Refusing lack

Aching soothing feeling breathing
Hugging kissing touching smoothing
Loving sharing adoring esteeming

Believing abiding persisting accepting

If you never try (and try again) you'll never know what you can do.

Winter is Around the Corner

Maybe that's why I feel the way I do. It's my annual struggle against the inevitable. I used to like autumn the best of all the seasons, but for the second year straight, that is no longer so. When autumn comes I feel like there is still so much I want to do and haven't done, and now the year is coming to a close. I'm not ready to harvest, and yet it's time to harvest. So, a lot of what I refuse to conclude begins to rot.

Maybe harvesting is too much work. Maybe I'm just lazy. Or maybe I think what I've done isn't worth harvesting.

Maybe these metaphors are too much!

Robin, my 16 year old son is quite a wordsmith. He has a book for school that is meant to be used as a vocabulary builder. Reading it is very much like reading a dictionary. (The nut doesn't fall far from the tree. One of my favorite pastimes is reading the Spanish dictionary to improve my vocabulary.)

Robin told me yesterday that I am an "ambivert." I hadn't heard that word before, but it's easy to see what it means. I thought maybe he had made it up, but in fact he discovered it in that book.

He went deeper. He pretty much nailed my personality. "You want to be an extrovert, but it's very difficult for you. When you appear extroverted, it's almost forced." (the "almost" was not necessary... it *is* usually forced.) He said being an ambivert, someone who is extroverted part of the time and introverted part of the time is very normal, but that my situation is a bit more complicated than that.

He continued by saying that I am extremely self-critical. Even when I accomplish something, I can usually find something to criticize about it. After a social encounter, I often regret something I may have said or done that could have been misunderstood. Sometimes I appear self-critical when I'm only looking ahead to improving on something I've just done, for example, in a race or in my language studies.

I am not a grumpy, difficult person. When I am out of sorts, people notice, and say "You're not your usual, bubbly self." (This happened at swim practice this week, when I was feeling a bit down over an on-going situation unrelated to this post.) But Robin sees the Me that is always there, below the bubbly surface, afraid to be antisocial, but uncomfortable in the spotlight.

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to "be more outgoing in social situations, putting my hand out and initiating conversation with total strangers," because I know, from experience, that when I do this, I meet interesting people and my life is richer. After almost a year of this, it is still uncomfortable, but I've decided, worth doing.

Our next conversation, Robin and I, will be about what he thinks of this... I wonder if he thinks it's worthwhile or folly to "go against one's nature." He's been a philosopher since he was three months old, sitting in his bouncy seat perfectly still, gazing around a room taking it all in. "He's very serious, isn't he?" my mother said. Indeed he is. I'll be interested to hear what he has to say.

Training and racing is still going very well. It's the one thing right now that I have any control over, and I do much of it on my own. Solitude is peace for me these days.

[Photo from weebsie's photostream at the Flickr Creative Commons.]

Thinking about Spain

This time last year I was five or six days into a two week trip to Spain. It was my first trip out of North America, and right now, I'd love to be back there again! I'd like to make Spain an annual thing.

Congrats to Awen & José, who got married there on Tuesday. If they had done it last year, I would have been there!

[photo: Me & Awen in Toledo 13 Oct 2007]

My first Half-Marathon.

Well, it was really a gorgeous day in Center City Philly yesterday, and the party atmosphere was almost too inviting. I spent maybe a little too much time socializing before the race start and when I turned to find my corral I had some difficulty getting across the fence! "Where do we go to get in?" I asked. "You climb under or over!" and three people picked up the orange plastic fencing and I slipped under just in time. Just in time to walk, of course, for the first minute or so, but at least I was in position. And dang if I didn't miss Mayor Nutter's pearls of wisdom before they let us go.

As someone who's run The Loop (around MLK/West River drive, across Falls Bridge & then down Kelly Drive back to the Art Museum) a few times, I was happy that the "extra" part of the race around City Hall was first, not last. Once we were on the approximately 8.4 mile Loop, I felt like, hey, this is just my Sunday Loop run with my Fairmount Running Club buddies.

Well, except there isn't nearly enough shade in the middle of Kelly Drive!! Crossing Falls Bridge somewhere between the 8 and 9 mile mark, I heard the bagpipe band and it really put a smile on my face. I thought, "It's the sound of the sun coming up!" Sure enough coming off the bridge and rounding the corner onto Kelly Drive, we were suddenly facing into the full sun. It was a warm day by then -- not HOT by any stretch of the imagination -- but I am a total baby when it comes to running with the sun pounding down on me! Waah!

My time was five and a half minutes slower than I had hoped for, something to work on in time for the next one in November. I wanted to match the first-time time of my friend, Paul, who told me his first half-marathon (when he was 14!) was 1:45. I finished in 1:50:22.

Paul's son Julian also ran his first half-marathon yesterday, and so Paul drove us both there and arranged for our post-race entertainment. Julian did awesome! He ran with a pace keeper, a friend of Paul's we ran into who happened to be running the race solely to help another friend keep pace. Julian was able to go along for the ride - er, run! When they ducked into the porta-pots along the way, Julian decided to keep going on his own. He ran a great race!

It wasn't the beach, where a lot of my fellow Tri-Dawgs (including Paul!) competed in a triathlon on Saturday, but it was a really fun race and a great day for it! Now I'm off to register for the November half-marathon.

[photo: Russia's Liliya Shobukhova, who won the thing in 1:10:21. Second place went to Beijing marathon Olympic silver medalist Catherine Ndereba of Kenya]

"Busy" takes its toll...

It's been forever since I've blogged. Too tired. To stressed. Too busy.

I've been so busy at work that I haven't had any "break time" to fool around and post anything. I get home in the evening hammered. I don't feel like even touching a keyboard after my day of troubleshooting technical issues related to my job as a college Electronic Resources Librarian.

But maybe I just feel busier than I really am, because I don't have myself well organized.

Since the beginning of a new semester I've been struggling with my newest cyclical demon... a change in routine. I've always thrived under the structure of a good routine, and these days I simply cannot function without one. And these days my routine requires changes often or it falls apart. My training needs require access to pools, running trails and bike routes, and this access changes seasonally. Before I started training again, I could get into the same routine for MONTHS and live life on an even keel. Not boring, necessarily, because my activities changed regularly, but my routine didn't have to.

But physical activities that rely on changeable things like pool & gym hours, work schedule, race schedules and especially daylight, require that the routine be adjusted whenever any of these things -- along with the kids' schedules -- changes.

And at this time of year, the day is shrinking at just the time I need it to expand!

I've changed my work schedule a bit to add an interval workout on a weeknight. That's one night fewer I can ride to work. I've been wanting to do this for a long time, but now, as we move from triathlon season to marathon season, the timing is perfect. (I'm not running a marathon this year though. Next year. This year I'll do one -- possibly two -- half-marathons.) It's also one night a week I can run with other people. Invaluable.

I'm back to swimming two mornings a week before work at the pool here at the college, in addition to a couple of other times each week elsewhere. Those two workweek mornings I'm unable to commute to work on my bike. I work until 6p.m. one -- sometimes two -- days a week. It's dark before 7:30 and I prefer not to ride in the dark, in case I get a flat, so that's two more days (some weeks) that I can't ride. That leaves only Fridays (reliably) for riding to work, until the daylight shrinks even more and I'm forced into spin classes to compensate. When that happens, my routine will change again.

My run schedule is also changing. It's dark in the early mornings and getting that way at the end of the work-day, too. Except for the weekend, running at lunch is once again becoming the best time, most days. That means I have to start packing lunch again, because there's no time to go to the café and go for a run. I should pack a lunch again anyway, because I need my siesta time on the days that I don't run at lunch! For that reason, I alternate days running and days having a brief, post-lunch siesta.

All this routine-busting has made my mind race when I wake up in the night. If I can't get back to sleep right away because of Dave's snoring, I am plagued by my unresolved schedule. I'm just sure I'm forgetting something or not managing something in the best way. I gotta be organized and efficient if I want to squeeze it all in.

And, I have to get a good night's sleep. So, I'm getting organized. It's taken me all day (10 minutes here, 10 minutes there) to write this letter to myself! I already feel better just writing it all down. Now I'll pull out the training calendar and get down to business. Before the end of today, before my head hits the pillow, I'll be back in control of the ONE thing in life I can control... my training!

Jason

Jason is the son-in-law of my friend Amma. The husband of my friend Lucas. He died on the second day of August last year after a tragic, freak accident, and his death literally changed my life.... I'm not sure anybody really understands how much. I wrote the following as a comment on one of Amma's recent blog posts at Tribe.net, and then decided I wanted to have it here, too.

-----------------

On Saturday I "broke the rules" and had a swim workout the day before a race. I needed to expend some energy and use the rhythmic motions to zone out and process everything that's happened in this past year... everything that began when Jason died, and swimming was the least stressful of the three for the job. I've said this before, but pretty much everything I've done since then has been a direct result of the messages I received loud and clear in the wake of Jason's death.

We have to live life like there is no tomorrow... not in fear but with joy and a mindfulness of all of the gifts we receive and have the opportunity to give, if we'll do it. We need to savor everything. It almost seems paradoxical to say "move slowly, savor everything, live mindfully," at the same time as, "live like there is no tomorrow!" Haste is not the answer. Rushing doesn't slow things down. Nothing slows down the inevitable, but slowing down means you see everything between here and there.

Yes, I made last year's resolution and planned my trip to Madrid before Jason died, but I lived the trip so differently than I would have otherwise. For this year's resolutions, I decided to take some chances I normally would not take. Risked some things that I would hate to lose. But in doing so I stretched my horizons and have turned into a more patient, more accessible person. I live with much less fear and far more faith that things will find their right place eventually.

When I signed up [last winter] for the race I participated in last Sunday, I honestly did not make the connection that it would be the day after the anniversary of Jason's death. But it was oh, so fitting to have him on my mind. The gifts he's given me this year I can never repay, but I am so grateful for them.