Voices

For as long as I can remember Dan has been telling me about the seven distinct voices in his head. They join him on projects, talking him through the work to be done; they pipe up when he’s problem solving, weighing in on the options; and they fill the silent spaces if the radio or TV aren’t on (WDRJ, 24/7), reminding him of things he has to do. I’ve always just smiled and thought his head must be a confusing and noisy place, but I never really knew what he meant.  Until today.

Dan and I were up at 4:40 a.m. so I could get to Williams Bay for my first Olympic Length Triathlon. The Lake Geneva Olympic Triathlon is a 1 mile swim; 26 mile bike ride; 6.2 mile run. This was my first attempt at these distances, having conquered the sprint distance a few times over the last two years. Last winter my trainer, Steve, challenged me to move past my comfort zone. It’s funny, the things we say yes to, when the snow is flying and an outside race is months away.

Dan dropped me off at the staging area around 6:00 a.m. The race crowd was a bit different than I was used to. My previous races were for women only.  This was a co-ed race with four distance options, a super-sprint, sprint, Olympic and half-Ironman. It was a whole new ballgame and I was feeling unworthy. The race didn’t feel as well organized as I racked my bike in an unmarked spot I hoped I’d be able to remember. All around me were really fit looking athletes with expensive gear. And the biggest difference I noticed? I was old enough to be their mom – the whole damn lot of them.

I put on my wetsuit and headed to the swim start. The half-Ironman group would start first, then the women in the Olympic length race. As I looked over the lake I expected to see a well marked swim course, as in previous races. What I saw was a line of about six buoys and a few boats on either side of what you might call a large lane. There was no pre race pep talk, just some guy yelling into the megaphone that you better know your starting wave because he couldn’t fix your timing if you got it wrong. At that point I realized the prior women’s only races had been positively warm, pink and fuzzy by comparison.

They herded my group over the starting chips, we wade out into the water, the horn goes off and everyone lunges into a swim. I held back for about a minute, waiting for the crowd to clear, as I’ve been pummeled in the past. The water was cold and initially took my breath away. I started to swim, awkwardly, and with very little on my right to sight against I struggled to ensure I wasn’t wasting energy swimming too far off course. I was about 1/8 of the way out and the cold panic was rising in my body. I could feel it. This was not going well. I stopped and started to tread water. I felt totally out of control and needed to get it together. To my left there was another woman, also treading water. I looked at her and said “what am I doing? I don’t know if I can do this.” She smiled and agreed that it was more difficult than she thought it would be. We bobbed there, catching our breath and exchanged names. Her name was Lisa and she asked if I needed help. I said no, I thought I could make it, and unbidden, there was Steve’s voice (voice one),  – “Paula, you’re going to do better than you think.”

We both started swimming again and I settled into a steadier stroke with minimal leg motion (I was going to need them at top form later) and heard Steve coaching me on good swim form. Heading straight out into the water the turn-around buoy came up remarkably fast. So did the wave of swimmers heading back towards me. The race organizers had created a situation where the faster swimmers came right back through the slower swimmers. It occurred to me that I had a choice. I could very easily turn around and head back the other way. I was at least, guessing here, 100 yards from the buoy. Who would know? I would. I got to the buoy, turned myself around and there was Lisa. We had matched each other for speed. We exchanged congratulations and headed back with a renewed confidence.

Triathlons involve a transition area where you move from one event to the next. Once back at my bike, I stripped off my wetsuit, dried my feet and put on my very friendly hard soled tennis shoes. Earlier in the week I had asked Dan to remove the “clip-in” pedals that required special shoes. Dan had thought they were a very bad idea from the start, as I can be “tippy” on my bike. As I slipped my shoes into the familiar but low tech, and loose, toe cages I heard Dan say “Thank you.” Voice two.

The first mile was a monster hill, “the worst” of the course, they said. Climbing that hill, being passed by everyone was humbling. One rider on his way by called it “heartbreak ridge”. A third voice chimed in to help me out – Amberlea – my favorite Spin instructor was talking me through the hill. “Best two minutes of your day, right here, right now.” Up, up and over, settling into a nice ride through the country-side. My bike was acting up, shifting itself on inclines. At one point one of my water-bottle carriers came loose and tipped off the bike, bottle hitting the ground and spilling out. I stopped to pick it up, but that was the only real glitch. Overall, it was a good ride, and I was accompanied by Amberlea for 26 miles, talking me through hills, sprints and surges.

Back to transition and another shoe change, this time for the run. I moved through this fairly quickly and was back on the road, legs feeling like bricks. The route description on the web site had said it was a challenging run. Seriously, the understatement of the year. The first half-mile was a continuous steep incline. I thought for sure there must be a cardiologist at the top of the hill, waiting to pick up a few extra patients. I could only walk; it was faster than attempting to run. I reached the first water stop, the Super Sprint turnaround at ½ mile. The hill started to flatten out, my calves started to settle down and I heard a fourth voice. “It’s only two more blocks Mom, just two more blocks.” My son Carl had repeated this to me during a cross-town tour of Philadelphia, on a most enjoyable day. And there he was telling me in his cheerful way, to go just two more blocks. Yes, of course I can. I began to run.

I hit the quarter distance marker, the turnaround for the 5K and thought, I could do that, I could turn around and finish this, quick and easy. I grabbed some energy drink and kept going. I hit the three mile marker and felt myself settle into an easy jog (I am no gazelle) and felt great. I heard Hunter in my head, “you’re beautiful Mom, I love you”, and he was right, I was beautiful, enjoying a glorious day feeling better than I’d ever felt. That’s five voices. Dan tells me I experienced the runners high. Not sure, but I felt fabulous. The entire running course doubled back so the last mile was mostly downhill. As I headed for the finish line I realized that the challenge had been met, physically, and with the help of my wonderful team of voices, mentally.

Thanks everyone for being there for me. Imagine what I can do when I get the whole crew of seven!

Overall Time = 4:16:50

Swim 48:58 // T1 6:15 // Bike 1:48:46 // T2 7:02 // Run 1:25:52