The Ironman training is already well underway, and I am having a great time with my teammates, the coaches and just the overall experience. In participating in what feels sometimes like a larger-than-life event, an individual can circumvent self-imposed limits or societal norms for what an average person can do (trust me, I'm not a "freak of nature" - Craig Alexander and Chrissie Wellington currently hold those honors in this crazy sport). But this is also a sport that can humble the most gifted and mentally resilient of people.
For this post, I just want to touch on this notion of humility-in its many forms. Training. Life.
Our team trains usually 5-6 days a week. We generally split the three different activities up evenly throughout the week. When it comes to biking and running, I tend to feel golden. I have ran a couple marathons in the past 1.5 years, and that experience has definitely provided me with the proverbial "edge" when I hop off the bike and transition into my run. On the bike, I started off slow, learning how to pedal, switch gears, avoid cars, etc. Treacherous hills have dotted that learning curve as well, but for the most part, I was tackling this newfound sport with steadily measurable progress, just as a musician jumps from playing chords to scales and then eventually to simple songs. However, this sport is not won by majority vote: best 2 out of 3 does not cut it. Triathlons test your mettle because they require unanimous consent--completing all 3 stages, and for some people, muoi, swimming may be the most important stage. If you don't complete the swimming, you can't finish the bike or the run.
Swimming is my weakest event right now. It is also my favorite challenge, and at the end of the day what may define my character. Coming into training, I really had no swimming background and the thought of swimming 2.4 miles let alone 1.2 miles was laughable. I really had terrible form when I first started (you know when Coach calls you out at one of the first practices in front of the whole class for the "wrong" form during a drill). Just like any novice who seeks to master his field, you listen to the experts, follow their advice and practice, practice, practice. Some days you hop out of the pool and instantaneously yell "Hulk Smash" because you crushed the swim--maybe improved your stroke incrementally but most importantly did not stagnate and progressed. Other days you labor through your 1500 or 1600 yard swim with bewildered angst, deciding how much you will have to save over the next month or two to afford Olympic trained and videotaped coaching critiques. Thankfully, that balance has swung favorably to the positive in the past few weeks. Case in point, Desert Tri and my first true open water swim. Panic could have settled in when I realized there was no wall to push off after the first 25 yards or black line to dictate the shortest distance between me and Mr. Green Buoy, but it didn't. I also had some issues breathing, but I pulled through. Still, I thought I had a slow swim by the end.
Why fixate over swimming when it seems like you are making progress? Because despite what the results may indicate, sometimes you internally do not feel that way and impatience is a rotten creature that can pester you if left untamed.
Here, is where I want to introduce this idea of humility. If you understand that you are not going to win the Kona Triathlon Championship or Vineman, for that matter, then you realize that you are not the best triathlete out there on the course. When you see other teammates lapping you in the pool, you are obviously not the fastest swimmer in your lane. However, when you see Gordie Lat, one of your honored teammates and cancer battler, training in a slower lane than you, you know that you do not have to be the best triathlete out there in the pool or ocean. Improving in your training is a laudable goal, but merely participating so that you can raise money to fight cancer and allow someone else to train is really the race worth finishing.
I remember the week after Desert Tri, I received a Facebook message from Gordie saying "What's up, superhero?". A bit nonplussed, I responded dryly that I was no superhero, and just a finisher at Desert Tri. Gordie responded back, "You are a superhero because you're out there saving my life!". To say the least, that unexpected appreciative comment made my day. My week. Maybe my season.
So, I will continue to battle in the water and try to improve. And some days, I will probably go home and Google "swim videotape sessions Los Angeles." I will NOT forget though how lucky I am. Reminding myself to stay humble because you cannot always be the best, but you can work hard and give it all you got.
If you want to know about real superheroes, read the story below about Hunter, who passed away earlier this week. Thanks Sara for sharing.
The Death of A Superhero
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