I started doing sprint triathlons a long time ago – just for the challenge. A sprint triathlon is a race made up of a .46 mile swim, a 12 mile bike ride and a 3.1 mile race. I am easily bored and enjoy trying different activities that keep me moving. I had done indoor rock climbing, zip lines, long-distance bike “races” (25 and 50 milers), 5k runs and duathlons (bike-run-bike). After doing my first sprint triathlon and struggling with the transition from the swim to the bike – yes, you have to put on shorts and a shirt on over a wet bathing suit and put on socks and shoes – I decided I needed a more “professional” way to do this transition. (yes, I thought I needed to be more professional after one race, one race that I did not even get close to winning but I did finish.)

So I looked online to see what the professionals wore: it was what I would describe as a “onesy swimming suit short set.” So now I had my goal and started shopping. So I shopped online and bought the only one I could afford. I got it in the mail and got super excited to try it on! I tried it on and it fit – YES, it fit and made me feel like a million bucks. Until I saw the emblem on the front: it said “Orca.” I’ll be honest – I was in no way secure enough in myself to wear a wetsuit (basically) of shorts with that word on it; I basically considered it a descriptor. So THAT item got returned. I then decided that – for me – the price of comfort is higher than the cost of judgment. I returned that suit and got another one that was better in many ways, mainly in that I was comfortable and felt empowered.

I was ready for my next triathlon race. This race was in the Corpus Christi area – think sand and sun. The swim was in a smaller pool than my first race and it was super crowded. I got kicked in the face more than once. As always, my loving husband was there to support me. As I swam, he was walking along the side of the pool with his cup of coffee telling me, “Don’t make me get in there.” in a joking way to try to get me to relax. I kept going and finished the swim. At the end of the swim I was exhausted (already) and really out of breath. It was then that I realized that there were no steps to get out of the pool…and I was in water up to my chest. I had to lift myself out of the pool. After multiple failed attempts on my own, my husband reached down to help me out of the pool, but I told him, “Don’t touch me babe-I’ll be disqualified.” Now I did not actually know that if that was true, but as a “wanna-be” professional, that felt right. I made a few more failed attempts to lift myself out of the pool. Then my husband shouted at me, “Roll, baby roll!!” and that was the magic that allowed me to get out of the pool: rolling onto the cement like a whale…like an Orca. The irony was NOT lost on me and I thought, “Well – here you are and there you go.”

I made it to my bike after a stumbling “jog” – the effort I had expended during the swim (breathing & nerves) and in getting out of the pool had left me a little disoriented (just like a professional, right? LOL). It was so easy & fast to get my socks on, put on my clip shoes, get on my bike and hit the road. I rode as fast as I could for all 12 miles.

Once I got back to the bike rack staging area, I had gotten my second wind and I was excited to finish the race in perhaps my best time (out of two races). My “onesy” suit was working out perfectly. As I changed my shoes from my bike pedal clip shoes to my running shoes, I saw another racer taking off his shoes, too. I excitedly told my husband, “Look! I’m doing ok. He’s changing shoes too!” Then my loving husband put his arm around on my shoulder and gently told me, “Babe – he’s finished.” He could see the disappointment on my face but encouraged me with, “You keep going! You are doing great! You go run and do your best!” So I did. I ran (in the sand) and finished. I didn’t even care about my time because I knew I had done my best. I did more races after this and finished each one – each one has its own stories (unopened Goo, running with a helmet on, licking the inside of the package of an empty package of skittles trying to get sugar/energy, staying ahead of the guy picking up the safety cones, beating #12 with my sister and a finish line with just family and the mat that electronically recorded time), but that is another blog or three. If this story made you laugh, I’m glad. It makes me laugh, too, even today. Laughing is a healthy thing to do for our bodies and our minds. In my opinion if we can laugh at ourselves as we grow and learn, then that makes the learning – even learning the hard things – easier. Due to bad knees (from my intense athletic endeavors…lol) I don’t do duathlons or triathlons any more., but I continue to learn and laugh. I hope you do the same – keep smiling!