Breaking the Ice

April 13, Sunday — Well, I did it. I finished my first-ever triathlon: the Granite Bay Ice Breaker held at Folsom Lake, California. Its length was similar to a "sprint distance" triathlon: 1/2 mile swimming, 13 miles biking, and 4 miles running (or in my case, trudging). Here's a poem about the experience, as published on the "Write a Poem a Day" challenge for today. The assigned theme was to write a poem as a response to a song. We could choose any song. I chose:

WALK THE DINOSAUR (By Was Not Was)

Heat exhaustion set in at Mile 2
(with two more to go)
I'd ceased to sweat, which was
good because the white paper sports
tape bracing the arthritic knees stopped
peeling, but bad because it signaled
a step closer to a DNF
which is Did Not Finish,
which I Did Not Want to
tell people happened
to me at my first triathlon.
Chills and shakes, rapid
irregular pulse, dry hot skin.
Perhaps heatstroke?
All the others in my age group
(or wave, as the know-its call it)
were ahead of me, most having
crossed the finish line by now.
For me, for now,
no choice between running
and walking,
and no chance to catch up,
carefully shuffling up hills and down them,
singing to myself, all alone except for the
curious female turkey
who came out of the manzanita
at Mile 3 and waited until I passed.
Ancient bones have no business being out here,
but here I am, I thought.
Slow
and lumbering, resigned to
being the last of my kind.

Many thanks to TNT team-mates who were there at the end (as I trundled into a last-place finish with a time of 3:40): my mentor, Melissa, Rhonda (who won a prize for being among the top finishers of our age group!) and Patti. And to family members: husband Tim, who kindly retrieved my lonely bike and wetsuit from the empty transition area and put them in the car, and daughter Christine, who stood and cheered as I passed under the inflatable "finish arch." That poor announcer, and those nice volunteers—how great they all were to stay until the last person crossed the line.

My children's pediatrician used to advise new parents who were worried about dropping the baby while changing diapers, "Change the baby on the floor. I never knew of any baby falling off a floor." That's kind of where I am now—on the floor. And it's okay, because I can't really sink any lower. Only one way to go, and that is up—well, down in regard to finish time.

How did I feel after it was all over? Exhilarated, sunburned, grateful to everyone who has encouraged and supported me in the past 10 weeks, and just plain cheerful.

The Real Thing—Wildflower Tri—is coming up in two weeks. Judging by what I experienced today, it will be an awesome weekend. I am excited to be participating!