Digging Deep - My Journey to Tri

For years I have had had this fantasy dream, of accomplishing some really big sports goal. The kind where the crowds are yelling as you cross the finish line, drenched in sweat, hands high in triumph – you get the picture right? The fantasies that Bucket Lists are made of.

The problem being - I have never really been the athletic type of person. I swam competitively in high school ( which was 43 years ago!), have run a few charity runs in the last couple years and occasionally appease my conscience by walking for an hour a couple times a week. And then I heard about the Herzliya Women's Triathlon. Their slogan is "Every Woman a Winner".

I was totally intrigued. Every woman? Even a 58 year old, out of shape, asthmatic woman? A GRANDMOTHER woman? She too – a winner?

Now a triathlon, for those not in the know, is a combination of three different things – open water swimming, cycling and running. It has 3 categories – the Olympic (forget it – not a hope in hell), Sprint (a maybe) and the Mini Sprint – which looked the most appealing

The cruel facts were – I had never swum in the sea, I did not know how to ride a bike, and running…well, let's just say this was not my strong point.

Something exploded inside my head and I decided that this was going to be the year I did it. This was going to be marked off the bucket list. I was going to face all those terrors, and all those fears, and all the "I can't's", and the "I shouldn't's", and against ALL sane reason…. I was going to at least be able to say that I really truly gave it my best shot.

And so it was, in August last year I had coffee with Yael, a trainer, and I whispered my dream to her. She didn’t throw her head back and laugh and say " You want to do a WHAT??!" No, she calmly sipped her coffee and said – "Of course you can", she said, "I will work out a training plan for you, you have plenty of time".

She put me in touch with Einav. Einav is a kind of miracle worker with the patience of Job– he takes people like me, puts them on a bicycle and turns the whole terrifying process into an adventure wonderland. Within 2 lessons I was moving forward – wobbly but forward. After 4 lessons I found myself laughing like a kid as the wind whipped against my face, riding…actually riding! I cannot describe the exhilarating feeling of freedom I felt…I think for the first time in my life.

I surrendered my soul to a grueling training schedule.And that is when I learned what commitment was. Mine, and those that helped me get there. There is a saying "Commitment means staying loyal to what you said you were going to do long after the mood you said it in has left you" - there were days, many, MANY days, as I dragged my sorry self out of a warm bed at 4.45am to run, or ride or swim….when I asked myself over and over – remind me – why on earth am I doing this??

I never told a soul in those early days. I confided in only a few, those that I really knew I could trust not to ridicule me, or raise an eyebrow, or give me the "you're going to do a WHAT?"

I have to confess…I was terrified. The thought of ridicule, of being made to feel less than you are. Fear of wretched failure. Feelings of having to justify your why and your what….feelings not unknown to me, not by a long shot…

So this became my journey. Digging down really deep – to where the monsters and demons live. To name them, face them and let them go. It was doing hard and difficult and scary stuff over and over again, especially when I didn't feel like doing it. Our society has conditioned us to believe that there should be no discomfort, to stop when we are uncomfortable, to not even attempt the things we are absolutely sure to fail, or even worse – not be "good" at.

I learned I could be determined. Doggedly so. Left foot, now right… just to that pole, just to the next tree…

In the silence of those 4.45am mornings, I learned to face the truth of the fact that there lives within me an inherent sadness that fills my soul, bubbling just beneath the surface. It's always there, always has been. It gets masked and covered in the busy-ness of living, in amongst the happiness and joy in my life, but deep, deep down in that quiet place - it's there.

I think maybe that is what this whole triathlon thing is – to touch that place – to work hard with my body to be able to touch my soul. Alone – to get in there and be there. Not to run away, but to stay and to struggle. To learn to forgive my body, to admire its strengths instead of just criticizing its ungainly size. I had no heroes growing up. No one to inspire me, encourage or to look up to. I wanted to be my own hero, brave and courageous, and to feel it, really feel it and to weep for the pain of it all.

A month ago, I joined 1500 women, of all ages, all sizes on the most incredible journey. 500m swim/run in the ocean, 20 km bike ride, followed by a 5 km run.

I knew, as I ran to the transition area after the sea section that I was at the back. And I realized – this was my break place. This was SO hard! This was the place of not being good enough. This is the place my default would be to opt out and say "I can't"… and then I saw my family cheering me ….

I was the second last on the bike section, and all of a sudden – it wasn’t quite the catastrophe my DNA thought it was. I was here to have fun right? My support team were there, screaming me on…

When the run section started, my legs wouldn’t move. I absolutely COULD NOT even put one foot in front of the other. Breaking point -physically and mentally– maybe I will just give up here. This was just too much. Too hard...I didn't have it in me...I really really couldn't go on. And then I heard my daughter's quiet voice with her running miraculously at my side say, "Come on Mom, you can do this"…

My son waited for us further down the trail and my two adult children ran the last leg with me – my heroes - one on each side, not letting me give up, pushing me on.

And I did indeed cross that finish line; the noisy yelling crowds had long gone home, but MY own personal crowd was there. And I was there .

#triathlon #sports #women #fear #courage