Believe it or not, at one point in my life I participated in triathlons, specifically sprint triathlons. These are competitive races that include a .46 mile swim, a 12 mile bike ride and a 3.1 mile run. The swim can be open water (Iake, river, bay, etc.) or closed water (swimming pool). All of the sprint triathlons I participated in were closed water events. (see my blog titled Roll, Baby Roll for a laugh & a lesson). Back to the flat.

I was participating (not competing really – just participating) in order to spend time with one of my sisters, get some intense exercise, a t-shirt and a medal. It was a closed water swim in a lazy river – a circular path of water that you floated around while relaxing – at a resort in central Texas. Yes, you could stand up and walk through the water instead of swim, but integrity tells you to swim – until you get kicked in the face by the swimmer in front of you and then you stand up and walk a few steps before you try to swim again without getting kicked in the face. I completed the swim. After the swim you “run” to your bike, put on your racing number belt, helmet and clip shoes and then walk your bike from the rack to the starting point of the bike race.

I am riding my bike – I am moving slowly, but I am moving forward. Did I mention that this triathlon was described as welcoming beginners? Although I didn’t consider myself a beginner, I did not expect the hills on the route. I am not a quitter (I might be a walker, but not a quitter), so I pedaled and pedaled and pedaled with the intention to NOT WALK my bike on the route. I made it through three hills without walking and then I had to make a choice: walk with my bike or fall off my bike because I’m “standing” still, so I walk my bike to the top of the next hill. At the top of the hill, I get back on my bike and maximize gravity down the hill. On my way up the next hill it happens – I get a flat tire.

Despite the very kind efforts of one of the workers at the race to repair my tire (tube for you serious riders) with a business card, the flat could not be fixed. The worker even solicited the help of other riders as they rode by (I tried to discourage him) but the riders responses were less than helpful (“You’re supposed to bring your own repair kit!”) So, my only next option was to walk my bike back to the staging area to put my bike back on the rack and start the run. A small amount of contextual data is that I have bad knees and I was not supposed to run, so I had planned to walk it – finish it, but walking not running. I was there to finish not place.

I started walking my bike back – against bike traffic – to the bike racks/staging area almost a mile away. Because the flat was in the tube and not the tire, by simply looking at my bike it did not look like I had a flat at all. It was hot, I was tired and I had a flat, but I kept going. This is where it gets interesting (in a good way). Some of the riders in the race (there weren’t many behind me, but there were some) were headed down the road I had just been on. These kind riders shared words of encouragement with me such as, “You got this!” and “You can do it!” While I greatly appreciated their care, I wanted to shout out that I had a flat. Why? Because my ego wanted people to know I was not a quitter.

Then I caught a lucky break: one of the race workers came by in a golf cart and asked if I needed help. I told him I would appreciate a ride to the bike staging area, so I got in the cart and held my bike up off the road with my right hand (it is a light road bike – I’m not that strong) and got a ride all the way to the sidewalk that led to the staging area. It is worth noting that this race was in a resort area with condos. And it was such a pretty day, it seemed like everyone was on their balcony to cheer on the race participants, including me. As I walked on the sidewalk with my bike, I was engulfed in kindness with shouts from the observers: “You can do it!”, “Don’t give up!”, “I believe in you!”, “You’re almost to the finish line!” and “Finish strong!” At this point, with tears in my eyes I began to tell them (not in a mean way) “I have a flat.” I said it so many times, I was thinking I need to have a shirt that said that on the front and the back.

Looking back, I laugh at this memory. I also reflect on what I learned – other than the hard lesson of keeping a flat repair kit on my bike at all times. Other things I learned are (1) the influence of ego, (2) the power of mindset and (3) gratitude for authentic kindness – kindness provided without knowing the circumstances & the value of providing and accepting it. To all of the athletes (people who like to move their bodies on purpose in sporting-event ways) that are reading this – official, Olympic, professional, amateur, weekend warrior and first timer: Maximize your joy by letting your ego go flat and rising to a level of participation and kindness that makes you feel your best.