It's done. WHAT A DAY!!! I will try to explain by sticking to the facts without getting too emotional. Yeah right, c'est moi... make popcorn, get comfy...
My day started at 3am. I had set 4 different alarm clocks, but I woke up before anything starting beeping, and thanks to some very Virgo organization- I was out of my fancy motel room 20 minutes later. Coffee in my system, breakfast on the seat beside me, all my gear in the back seat, I arrived at 3:38am to be the 18th car in line waiting to enter the race site parking. It was already raining and there was only gospel on the radio.
At that moment, somehow, I knew this was a glimpse of the day ahead.
Transition & body marking opened at 5am. The rain had stopped and by 5:15 my transition zone was ready, my bike loaded with my nutrition. I figured the 1.8km swim is warm up enough, no need to start running mile repeats in the bike chute. I also realized I had woken up, had coffee, eaten, brushed my teeth 3 times (all that heavy breathing, best to have a fresh mouth) but I had yet to pee. This is not the Jules I know. The Jules I know is a wreck before any race. She's sick, she cries, she becomes over excited & over afraid...not this girl... I was having the time of my life!!! Having a clear vision of what I wanted my day to be and now more than enough time on my hands, I took to the fun task of making friends with the girls around me. We spoke about the bike course, we decided who would be first off the bike (the girl from Ottawa with the Sub 9 won that). I pumped tires, helped racked bikes, sprayed Pam on body parts, handed out Power Bar gummies, I chatted with the Chickens, text Dylan 'I heart U'. I hugged the girls good luck and took it all in.
I was proud to be rocking the # 31 on my left calf - it was an age group I felt honored & happy to be in.
The swim start in any triathlon is a moody and surreal place to be- yet the energy Sunday morning was brilliant. There was a very obvious sense of belonging. To the sight of Chrissie bouncing up & down in the water, to the 2,000 people who surrounded me- everyone in a wetsuit, everyone with a cap pulled tight on their head... I was one & the same with all these wonderful people - we were all about to swim, bike, run our way through this race as if it were the only thing that ever mattered. In an unexplainable way, the swim start was like coming home.
Lance Armstrong is quoted to have said that "endurance athletes are all running from something." I now believe the opposite to be true. We are running TO something. An answer, a reason, a new destiny, a renewed self-belief. I knew clearly what I was chasing, and I felt the rush of overwhelming courage to go get it.
I wanted to swim in 36 minutes. I came out of the water in 35:53. Yahoo for me. High 5 the wet suit strippers (who took all my limbs out of my wetsuit, because I was to busy being happy to pull down my torso). Rookie!.
Then time no longer mattered. I was now free to go.
The bike was the only part of my race that had a Plan A & a Plan B. As I left T1 the rain was still being held back in the very cloudy sky, so Plan A took effect: ride at 31km p/h, climb to pass the others (that's the part I do best) descend with imagination ( "I am Lance, I own this hill" was my mantra). Ha, it all worked, even the role-playing! I was having the ride of my life. The first 36 miles of that bike was a party on wheels. I went up & down & forward & I ate on time, drank on time, stopped to pee only once, stopped to give a severely cramped up girl 2 salt tabs, stopped to avoid 1 crazy crash. I cried a lot, laughed a lot, got passed by fast boys with fast wheels. WOW!!!
Then, with about 30km to go, it started raining. Not the OMG I can't see rain, but the steady, slow, big wet drops that soak you to the core. The "shit this white line is slippy now" type of rain. Plan B came into effect - survival of the fittest... Race- mode Jules had enjoyed her fun, now Mommy-mode Jules took over. My pace slowed down, the descents gave reason for the fast boys with fast wheels to curse at my snail pace. My mantra vanished from memory; the song now stuck in my head??? Amazing Grace. 3:38am deja-vu.
I cried rolling into T2. Tears of appreciation I couldn't hold back. 50 weeks training X 8 hrs a week on the bike... I had done it. Justice for every hour I am out risking it all in traffic, not home with Dylan. I really had found the courage I needed. I found the strength that once upon a time I was certain I didn't have. I rode into T2 a new woman. A better mother. A better friend. I felt bad- ass and suddenly beautiful! YAHOO!!! Bonus in tri- they save the best for last: I was free to run.
I had only 1 goal for the 21.5km run; to run. Not walk, no crawling, no shuffle, no DNF. Just run proud, strong and free. Except this run, I soon discovered, is not a run, it's a mindset. This is where the will must be stronger than the skill.
I had 2 gels left, and no gadget to give me splits or time. I was OK though, and with confidence in my running form, I simply watched the scenery go by. I found the girls in my age group and wished them well as I ran by. My shoulders were light, my feet were numb, my cheeks hurt, and it all came together when I needed it the most.
I am happy to say- this was my best best run ever. Not my fastest by any means, but my proudest 21.5km ever!! I did it, with a negative split, and a sprint into the finish.... (Didn't care to even look up at the clock. Not so Lance-ish of me!) It was my moment to cry, to hug myself, to take in what I had just accomplished. The cheese on my poutine-- the amazing Chrissie greeted my tears of joy with a hug, my medal and finishers cap. To be told that my "finish was beautiful!" by my hero almost made me believe I didn't look as bad as I suddenly felt.
Like getting slammed by a sumo, my entire body went heavy & hard & cold. The aftermath comes quick and it comes with vengeance!
I couldn't walk, couldn't talk, couldn't eat. I hugged the friends I saw. I hugged myself and plopped onto the ground, in a corner, under my foil blanket, and although I thought I would cry again, I didn't.
I just sat there, smiling, like a crazy lady with snot on her face, feeling pretty darn lucky to be me.
Timberman was #1 on my list. I have been asked countless times, "why?". 70.3 miles, is after all, 70.3 miles no matter where it is. Yes and No. Timberman is in New Hampshire. New Hampshire's slogan is 'Live Free or Die.' A race in the perfect place, perfectly worded to prove to myself that I am healthy & strong, more courageous, more capable and very much free from the fear that almost held me back.
So what's next?? Rev3 Cedar Point Half will be the next check off the old list. There's no deep meaning, no voices calling... but there is one freakin' high roller coaster, a beach, and hopefully a hot triathlete guy with fast wheels who can buy me a post-race margarita!
YAHOO!!!!
Train safe,