7-13-08--Danskin Triathlon

I had been to the Danskin triathlon last year, giddy with excitement but feeling like throwing up a little at the same time. But this year was different. I was there again, but not for me.
A while back my mother-in-law Tracy was deep in her new obsession with finding half-marathon races and walking them at breakneck speed. (Seriously, I've been out training with her--I have to jog to keep up.) We were comparing notes about our prospective athletics-of-choice, and from nowhere she had decided that with someone with her during the race as a guide (Tracy is legally blind) and with a whole lot of work (Tracy doesn't swim), she could do a triathlon too. She signed up for Danskin '08, which was yesterday.
We knew she wasn't the only first-timer; at the expo yesterday they asked for a newbie
show of hands and nearly every hand went up. It didn't matter--we could still feel the anxiety she felt as we walked to the transition area to set up this morning at 5:30 AM.



SIDEBAR: Triathlons are pretty short races overall--the winner is finished in a little over an hour. A person could complete a sprint and still have time in the day to go grocery shopping, meet a friend for a movie, cook brats on the grill for dinner, and finish a book. More importantly, there's time in my case to go back to bed for four hours, because the price you pay for your early finish is an early start. We live an hour from Danskin, which meant a 3:45 AM rise. That's freakin' early in the day.
We were in Wave 8 for the race, which (fortunately) meant not much time to get nervous. I requested a "swim angel" for Tracy. Swim Angels are volunteers with styrofoam noodles who accompany swimmers across the lake to offer support, encouragement, and styrofoam when needed. They were short a few angels, but gave me a noodle to use. I was her guide and her angel all in one. The countdown began and Tracy put on her Game Face.


I had told her all along to just "get through" the swim, and the rest will take care of itself. So here we were, in the middle of the lake, rotating between a made-up stroke on her back, a surprisingly strong sidestroke, and some kicking with the noodle. We saw swimmers cruise on by us, swimmers clinging to the rafts for a break, even a swimmer rescued from fatigue by a lifeguard, but mostly we saw a lot of women getting through the swim any way they knew how. We finished the swim 17 minutes faster than her estimated time. I think it's because she never stopped moving forward.

Our plan for the bike ride was for me to follow closely behind her so she could set the pace, and I would zoom ahead temporarily only if a turn or hill were coming. We scrapped that plan the moment we left the transition area; there were just too many bikers, spectators, cones, and volunteers. I led the way, looking back once in while to make sure we were still together.

SIDEBAR: My opthamologist prescribed a stronger prism for my eyeglasses this week--my double vision just isn't getting any better. The good news of this is that I'm now able to turn my head while moving; with the weaker prism I would've tipped over.

Many times I'd look back and hear a polite but chipper "I'm right behind you!" This was code for "C'mon Jenn move it, we can go faster than this." A few times I looked back and she wasn't there. This happened on steeper-than-rolling uphills, and her fat-tired bike combined with the 20 MPH headwind caused a few unannounced stops to walk the bike. I'd wait for her, we'd continue our trek, and before long I'd get another "Right behind you!" We finished the bike at the very beginning of our estimated range.

We already knew at this point that the race was hers. Tracy has completed three half-marathons in the past year, each one faster than the last. She was giddy with excitement in the first mile, chatting to no one in particular about how the day has gone so far.

Erika and Dan (Tracy's husband) had positioned themselves at several key points in our race, so we talked about the times we'd seen them and how surprised and excited they were at our progress so far.

Then it slowly dawned on her: If she buckles down and keeps a solid pace, she could beat her goal time...by twenty minutes. We stopped chatting. I can't walk at her pace, so I would jog ahead a little, stop to walk, and let her catch up to me. She jogged with me a few intervals.

When the finish line was in view we ran in with arms raised and big smiles. It was a victory for both of us. Tracy knew she could walk fast all day long if she wanted, but today she took a leap of faith and tried things she never thought she was capable of. And she succeeded. She felt on top of the world. For me, I got to run a race post-accident, without the pressure of beating my times or the girl next to me. I got to see if I would be able to get back in the game. And I did.


We crashed from our adrenaline highs on the ride home. Full of our post-race snacks (chocolate milk and a gluten free nut bar for me), Erika and I walked in the door and immediately sank into bed--for four hours.

Not a bad way to spend a day.