Labor Day

This is it.

Win or lose. Official finisher or DNF. I will not be broken.

Track my progress here. I am Athlete #813.

Something More Important Than Courage

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life.

Keep Going

As the single digits of the race countdown dwindle away, my emotions are all over the road. I have cried a lot this week. Like, A LOT. Yes, I admit that I am scared. And I admit that I am afraid to admit that. I've been thinking that if I voice my fear, it would be like some sort of jinx, or a concession to defeat, or a sign that I just don't want it enough.

And then I got my Triathlete magazine today. Scott Tinley's essay this month was titled "Embracing the Fear." Money quote:

"While athletes know the calming effect of an easy run or a hard swim, fear is a pervasive emotion within most sports. This is not necessarily an unhealthy phenomenon. Sport offers a kind of malleable tension that can both thrill and kill, excite and indict our senses with an anxiety that leaves us somewhere between satiated and starving. ... I'd like to think that sport allows us to mediate our fears based not upon our failures but upon our dreams."

Single digits to race day...here's where the vanity of chasing a dream like this gives way to the One Thing. Yes, I am afraid to fail again. But I am more afraid of not having the guts to stay in it mentally. I am afraid that this fear that I am experiencing now might be my undoing on the course. What will keep me going on race day when my mind and body attempt to talk me out of it?

So I searched for my posts that I labeled "The One Thing." Here's what I came up with:

• Stephanie May, reminding me that the feeling of digging down to one's deepest limits is amazing even in defeat -- and ultimately makes the defeat itself something of a misnomer.
• From last year: "I think I've found it: Triathlon lets me experience the joys of independence and self-reliance. It also helps me confront my despair at the thought of feeling alone in the world. It lets me know that if I ever were alone in the world -- I can handle it. I can keep pedaling, keep breathing, keep going. I can also find friends on the road who are like-minded and supportive -- strangers who will give me a "Stay strong, Krissy" when I need it most."
• From Friday: "Alas, there is nothing more to be done now. All I can do is keep moving, keep pedaling, keep my legs going..."

Then there was this odd rambling about the marathon movie in which I am dismissive of the fact that I completed 26.2 miles on foot -- running every step. "But all I did that day was show up and keep going," I say, as though it were some easy thing. (I don't know what possessed me to write that because I remember that it wasn't until mile 24 or 25 that I knew I would finish.)

Given the theme above, it should come as no surprise that the climax of Hillary Clinton's speech last night made me cry:
"On that path to freedom, Harriet Tubman had one piece of advice: 'If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.'"

Clearly, all of this taps into my One Thing.

. . .

So I think I am ready for The Talk:

There are a lot of people whose eyes will be on me. I've told so many people what I'm doing. I want my daddy to see me cross the finish line. I've got a chip on my shoulder from last year. NONE OF THIS MATTERS.

I am KrissyGo! The person I am KEEPS GOING. If I can move, I can move forward. I may walk multiple times on the course, but I will not walk off of it. Not of my own volition. Why? Because I feel most alive, most spiritually awake when I am GOING, EXPERIENCING, setting goals BEYOND MY REACH, chasing those goals, sometimes achieving them, sometimes failing, entering into some endeavor with NO IDEA of what the outcome will be and finding satisfaction in simply having the guts to do anything in the first place, but always ALWAYS present in every moment knowing that I have LIVED my life.


Courage is doing what you are afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared.

~Eddie Rickenbacher

Athlete Number 813

Race numbers were posted today. You can track my progress here on race day.

My facebook friends know that I had a little breakdown last night reading a race report about the bike course. The countdown is in the single digits. This time next week, I will be in Louisville.

I am scared, but determined. Alas, there is nothing more to be done now. All I can do is keep moving, keep pedaling, keep my legs going...until I either cross the finish line or someone pulls me off the course. And that someone will have to be pretty strong, because I will not go quietly. It will be a long, difficult day, and I am ready to face it; I am ready to face myself.

"On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow."
~Friedrich Nietzsche

No Free Passes Between Gutsy Broads

Yes, this is LOOONG overdue. No excuses besides simply not being in a writing mood. *shrugs* What can I say? It's been a whirlwind month.

In Part Two of the Multi-Sport Athlete Exchange Program (Part One: Dam-to-Dam), Danielle came out to the east side of Iowa and joined me for the Lake Geode Challenge.

It should be obvious by now that recounting the minutiae of race day kinda bores me, and during this race I decided on a truncated form for race reports. HOWEVER, this particular day wound up being one of those turning-point kinds of races, so I actually have something to say about this one.

It was my first tri of the season (I couldn't get to the QC tri for the flood) and the first day back from strep. I was going to treat it like a long training day (I was only looking to finish somewhere close to my average paces without being too miserable and/or collapsing).

And then late on Mile 5 of the 10K run, I entered the race.

The Lake Geode run course is mercilessly hilly. I unapologetically walked all the hills -- until the approach to the Mile 6 sign. Here, I heard the footsteps of the two women approaching. I said to myself, "No free passes," and started to run again. They eventually passed me, but I kept them within reach.

I re-passed them as we approached the finish chute. And then, inexplicably, this gutsy broad re-re-passed in a dead sprint, and of course I gave chase! In the end, I ran out of pavement and lost 2nd place in our age group by one foot.

The irony is that she and I were easily 8th and 9th from last in this race overall. I had no illusions about where we were in the pack, and figured placing/hardware was out of the question. But, dammit, neither one of us was going to let the other get a "free pass" especially not that close to the finish line. And even though I "lost," I am so grateful to that woman -- that gutsy broad -- who made me dig deep and enter that race, if even for the last moments, because she lit a fire in me that I had almost forgotten about. We high-fived on the other side of the line as I gave her heartfelt congratulations. Forget Inner Ass-Kicker, she helped me rediscover my own Inner Gutsy Broad -- who is way tougher, hands down.

When I got home I watched this clip a few times, reveling in my renewed competitive, yet appreciative spirit and shed a few tears of recognition at the final voiceover:



To be clear, I don't put myself on the same level as these elite athletes, but stripped down to the least common denominator, their moment was our moment writ large. For me, this drive is part of what makes me an athlete. Yes, triathlon is sometimes about going the distance, other times about the competition, but at its best about digging deeper after you thought you had nothing left.

So thank you, Stephanie May of Somewhere in Iowa for making me dig deep that day and energizing my inner athlete. But thanks especially for helping me re-discover my Inner Gutsy Broad, who admires yours...and is hot on your heels! :D

I loved it. It was much better than Cats...

GOOD NEWS: There will be an encore presentation on Thursday, Feb 21 -- GET YOUR TICKETS NOW! I'll see you there!

In the meantime:

I have an on-again/off-again relationship with the fact that I ran a marathon. My iPod died before me -- at Mile 15. On again. I only beat Katie Holmes' time by eight minutes. Off again. There are rumors that she may not have even completed the whole thing. On again. She's kinda strange and her husband is insufferable. Way on again...oh wait. I digress.

I will admit, I felt like I was going to get a little something extra out of the film because I have a finisher's medal. (Not gonna lie -- I teared up a little.) I also thought the event might cement my feelings of ownership over 26.2. If only it were as simple as that.

As I settled in for the opening moments of this film, I thought Hey, I did that! On again. One of the first talking heads validates the "slow-timers" -- that it doesn't matter how fast or how slow your time; the distance has been covered. On again.

Then they showed the amateurs and first-timers training. Off again. Ooh. I didn't do that. My longest training run was 10 miles, over two months before my race. Yes, I will say that part of the reason I don't "own" my first 26.2 is because I don't feel like I earned it. I didn't make months of sacrifice -- I simply forged on for a few hours. That feels disingenuous, somehow. Off again.

Then we got into the meat of the movie: Greek history, growth of marathon-distance races around the world, etc. But the one thing I was most impressed by was how they gave the women their props. From Kathrine Switzer's infamous entry in Boston (go girl!), to Joan Benoit's winning of the first women's Olympic marathon in 1984, I felt a special sense of -- not ownership, but something else, camaraderie, maybe? -- to see my sisters (whoa, I never use that word) kicking ass. And I will admit that I'm not sure if being a woman made me read the film this way, but I LOVED the fact that the end of the women's race was more compelling than the men's race. (Just sayin'.) On. Again.

And then: sweeping aerial shots of Chicago, footage of the race itself, glimpses of the finish line -- I've got to do Chicago. I want to see that city from the middle of the street, not the sidewalk. And you know what? Why NOT try to qualify for Boston? Then I started running the numbers and calendars trying to figure out a timeline. This year = Ironman, so...Chicago...2009? Boston '11 or '12? Is that even possible?

I think this is the moment that I made peace with my 26.2 skin: yes, I've covered the distance -- ran every step. But all I did that day was show up and keep going. So no, it's not so much about the race behind me. I'm looking to the horizon. I'm looking at the road between here and there. I've got some dues to pay. My journey to the finish line needs to be longer than 26.2 miles. But more importantly, it's one thing to earn the finish line -- it's something else to earn a starting line.

26.2

3:45

On.

Eureka At Last!

Last night's post on Project Procrastination was a much-needed wakeup call. There are so many amazing athletes out there who are actually overcoming formidable obstacles while I'm here whining about how lazy and unmotivated I am. Despite reading Duane's blog for a while now, and having a general idea of what he has set out to do, only today did I find his feature on RaceAthlete.com I can't believe I had overlooked this for so long!

For inspiring stories of people who have dug deep inside themselves to pursue triathlon (or any dream, for that matter), one need only peruse the blogroll at RaceAthlete.com. Like me, many of these people took a little inventory and were unsatisfied with the state of affairs. Unlike me, they took on the task of transformation and are really working to see it through. If I am going to know even a morsel of success, I'm going to have to figure out what the difference is between myself and them. What is it that gets them out the door, into the pool, onto the bike, or out of the snack aisle? More appropriately, what is it that keeps me on the couch, out of the pool, off my bike, and covered in snack shrapnel?

After some thought, I think I've figured it out. My pursuit of triathlon has been awash in the Seven Deadly Sins of Triathlon (okay, six):

Pride: Yes, I want to "Brag for the rest of my life" about Ironman. I like it that the mailman delivers my Triathlete magazine each month and sees the bike rack on my car and is probably really impressed because he's never actually seen me. I like it that I have this tri blog and I can pretend I'm some sort of athlete. And frankly, I am pursuing the ridiculous and superficial goal of reclaiming the cute girl that I was at 19. Talk about denial: I was even a little relieved that I DNF'd at IMAZ because I didn't want my finish line photo to immortalize my current weight. (Notice there are no current or recent pictures on any of my blogs showing me from the waist down.)

Gluttony: It seems that everytime I start to get into a groove with my training, I fall victim to the SnackDown. Oct 15, 2006 was supposed to be Day One of my IMAZ training. What did I do? I put on 15 pounds of snack weight. Most recently, I turned over this new leaf...and then ordered The Big Feed. I'll get you yet, Gluttony Monkey!

Envy: I swear to God, if GeekGirl gets one more cool tri toy...

Lust: See Envy.

Greed: Well, this move to Iowa is about to cut my income in half...Really, between the gear, travel, and registration fees, this is not an activity that will facilitate an amassing of wealth, so I guess I've dodged this bullet.

Wrath: Yesterday, I stooped so low as to drag all the positive, supportive bloggers to engage in this cardinal sin. (I'm sorry. Can you forgive me? For what it's worth, it helped.)

Sloth: We all seem to have our own brand of struggle with this one. Some battle their sloth by ridiculing it. I will admit that I have missed workouts because I spent the day reading tri blogs about swimming, biking, and running, (or comedy about various foibles while doing these things) instead of getting off my butt to ACTUALLY swim, bike, and run--further evidence that the Sloth Monkey's been whispering sweet Do-Nothings in my ear for too long. Nike-style is the only way to combat this: Just Do It. As simple and difficult as that.

So for all my jabber-jawing, I never stopped to figure out what my One Thing is -- why I'm REALLY doing this. I've thought about this for a while, too, and this is what I've come up with:

As an only child, I constantly vacillate between my fear of being alone in the world and cherishing my independence and self-reliance. Triathlon is where these two meet. A DNF is a solitary experience, and so is a finish line, podium, pass late in the run, etc. -- they stay with you long after everyone else has moved on, and only you know how it happened. On bad days, you confront yourself; there's no one to blame, to lean on, or to carry you (or to turn off the eff-ing wind). On good days, you get to feel the wind in your hair or water rushing over you -- self-propelled swiftness, speed and freedom. Self-reliance at its best. This is where today's post by Stronger gave me the nudge I needed. She reminded me that I really do enjoy all three sports and all that I'm missing when I avoid them.

So I think I've found it: Triathlon lets me experience the joys of independence and self-reliance. It also helps me confront my despair at the thought of feeling alone in the world. It lets me know that if I ever were alone in the world -- I can handle it. I can keep pedaling, keep breathing, keep going. I can also find friends on the road who are like-minded and supportive -- strangers who will give me a "Stay strong, Krissy" when I need it most.

I know that this is it. My One Thing. (It must be, because I've been crying for the last 15 minutes.)

All this time, I had been using triathlon to run away from my life...when the best it has to offer is me.