Pigman

As I looked out over the distance of the lake, the rocks in my throat plummeted to the bottom of my belly. My knees went weak, a heavy feeling overwhelmed me... "No, that can't be right," I whispered. Then, aloud, "No, there's been some kind of mistake." ----for I was looking out over the distance of the swim for the 70.3 triathlon I would tackle the next morning. My sister, husband, and a few other athletes, who were also taking a sneak peak at the course, soon agreed. I was comforted by their similar apprehensions. Looking at the large orange buoys spread throughout the lake, I swear the swim coarse stretched at least three miles. How in hell was I going to swim this distance? ...a quiet panic struck me, and I covered it up by nervous chatter, trying to occupy my mind by introducing myself to the athletes nearby. One guy who was there was intending to use Pigman as a training day for his upcoming Iron Man in Wisconsin. He told us he'd been spending his Saturdays practicing 3-mile swims.... Somehow, I wasn't comforted by this...After several friendly debates, swift calculations, and the comparison my husband made to driving a golf ball across the lake, we determined that the race directors did indeed know what they were doing and the course was most likely 1.2 miles. Hmmmm…I still left with my doubts.

The night before the race was spent laughing with friends over pasta dinner, exchanging war stories of the various races we'd done. Sitting around listening to the different race feats one another had faced was the perfect recipe to get me pumped for the next day. Call me weird, but I was seriously giddy: my voice high and squeaky, my blood racing, and my hyper personality shifted into turbo-charge! Woo hooo!!!!

---- Back at the hotel, preparations took place-- the taping of power gels on bikes, outfits laid out, gooey power bars placed in pockets, Gatorade's iced down, alarm clocks set, prayers sent up...(prayers over knees, over hips, and over dry goggles... and please not to drown)

Race Day. Dense fog covered the park grounds... The athletes stood and waited like penguins in their wetsuits bobbing in and out of the water...some taking walks, some warming up in the water. I could feel the nervous energy in the air, hanging like the fog around us. The start was delayed. I had put my swim cap and goggles on way too early- my head started to throb. I was scared to take the goggles off because I had placed them perfectly, didn't want to mess with my goggles too much, feared they would leak…ohh, the race day apprehensions…

National anthem...the ladies next me were asking me why I wasn't wearing a wetsuit. They were impressed. HA! Little did they know, it was only for the sole reason that I'm so novice, I just hadn't gotten around to buying one yet.-- third triathlon...The swim start was unlike the two other Tri's I had done where we all started in the water at once in a fluttering mess. At Pigman, we did a 'time trial' start and actually gracefully ran into the water one at a time. Brilliant. Calm. This felt right. For the first time I started the race without that annoying, panicky feeling that says I'm going to drown. Forward I went... one stroke at a time. God, the water felt great. I felt strong. People passed me... more people passed me. Large, strong men and leathery women glided by... on, I went. Sometimes, my mind began to get desperate and it wanted to taunt me that I was the last one. THIS is danger. I wouldn't let it. I refused to think that I was the last one; this would have been the end of me. I would tell myself, I was doing fine, go forward, one stroke at time, orange buoys. I count too... a lot... one, two, three, breathe....one, two, three, breathe.... God, one, two, three, breathe...God, one, two, three, breathe, God....I'm good, I'm strong....one, two, three, breathe, ....And that's how it went....until I got out of the water, running up the hill. I was so happy I had accomplished the swim that I was hollering my 'woo hoos!' as I ran to transition. I heard my husband cheering me on. I screamed like a rock star. Probably, not the best energy saver but I felt so exhilarated I just had to express the enthusiasm. Although I am one of the slower swimmers, I’ve just come such a long way that I can’t help but be excited for overcoming it.

Upon reaching transition, I discovered that there were only a few bikes left. Time to rock and roll. The ride felt good, rolling hills…., a bit slower than I anticipated however…my knee had not completely healed from a previous injury and that knee pain definitely slowed me down. It felt like a knife just found its way in the joint and then hung out there. I kept my mind off the pain. My main focus on the bike was to “practice” nutrition. By this I mean forcing myself to eat or fuel every 15 minutes. I almost choked several times eating power bars and I think I could feel my stomach starting to rot from the sugar, carbs, and caffine- God, I love this sport. The other super fun item was yelling at the volunteers to stop the cars. As I entered the park, a car tried to race me, no kidding. I pointed to the car and hollered to the poor volunteer, “Stop this car!” Don’t cars realize that they will win against a cyclist and we know that… humph…56 miles completed….time to get off the bike.

Transition 2. Drop the bike, strip the shoes… sneakers on, visor, sunglasses…start to run while putting on my watch --what am I forgetting? Off I go…Truly; I know now why they call this action from riding a bike to then running, ‘bricking’. Your legs feel like tree trunks… Adrenaline spiking, I started out a 7 something pace. No Sara, back off. I backed off… the sun got hotter, the miles longer…. I kept running. I was grateful I had force-fed my body on the bike. I was utilizing every ounce of that sugar-carb crap and I was happy about it. I felt like I could actually feel my body respond to the nutrition. Every time I ate and drank I got stronger…. I started passing people. That felt good- finally, passing people. I kept going. Some of the water stations had warm water, not refreshing if you ask me. If they had ice, I stashed it. Yep, sure did stash ice cubes in various places and that’s as far as I’ll go. I kept my pace pretty slow that first 6 miles and really pushed it out the last 6. My chin was up as I passed this one group of buff tri-guys. They were walking up a hill! Can you believe that- walking? When I run, I feel like I’m in my element. Its my safe-zone. I own it and that feels good. Overall, my run was about a nine minute pace. Honestly, it was hard as a runner to look down and see my slow pace, but I had to put things in perspective….I was passing large groups of young, muscular men on the hills… So many people walked, I could not believe it. Walking didn’t even cross my mind; I considered that a good sign.

Crossing the finish line, I completed the 70.3 triathlon in about 6 hours 10 minutes. Not bad for only signing up for the race about two weeks prior. I was elated. I think the best part of the whole thing was that my sister was doing it too. See, when ya think ya might drown, or its super hot, or your knee bothers you or the hills kick your butt, somehow, its just easier to finish knowing that your best friend is doing it too….on the same roads, the same hills, hearing the same cheers and experiencing the same challenges. Thanks Michelle. I love you honey.

As I hugged and congratulated her at the finish line, we were thinking the same thing. Let’s double it. Iron Man, here we come…