Running the Race - Triathlon and Life

I've said it before - I love triathlon.  I ran another one today.  I ventured into the Olympic distance two races earlier in the season than I usually do.  I don't know why I did, exactly.  It just seemed like the thing to do at the time I was registering.

An Olympic distance triathlon is composed of a 1500m swim, 40km bike and a 10km run.  As the name would suggest, it is the same distance that is run in the Olympics.  Of course, the big difference is that they do it a LOT faster than I do.  Finishing a triathlon is an accomplishment.  For me, the Olympic distance takes about three hours.  The 10k run at the end of the Olympic distance is not an easy one for me.  But it is so good to get to the end and be able to say, "I finished.  And I gave my all."

I normally start my season off with three Sprint races (half the distances), and seriously considered dropping down today.  Then one of my teammates rolled her ankle and needed asked if someone would do a relay with her, running the 10km at the end.  I asked my hubby and he jumped in.  I made some comment about how I would have to see if I could come out far enough ahead of Kathryn to beat the two of them, and suddenly there was no way I was switching races.  Now it was a competition.

It was a good race.  Good weather.  Good people.  It had its more negative moments, the first 20km of the bike, for example - all against wind.  There was one fellow competitor who didn't seem to understand the rule of having to drop out of someone's draft zone before attempting to pass them again.  When I mentioned to her that she had to, as she could get nailed for drafting (a 2-min penalty), she got quite defensive.  As much as it irritated me that she did it, I knew it wasn't going to affect my placing any - anyone who is close to my bike time is a faster runner.  I just thought she should know.  Other than that, I had a wonderful time.

I loved the run today.  I never ran more than 500m without getting some sort of encouragement from someone, whether it was the volunteers, some fans along the way, or fellow competitors.  It felt so good to know so many were cheering for me.  I do the same.  I have always enjoyed encouraging other racers during this final leg, whether they are ahead or behind.  It just feels good.

For years, I had one goal in my races - to see Pat Peacock crack a smile.  Pat's my former triathlon coach and current swim coach.  And the top male age group athlete in the province.  The man is FAST.  Two weeks ago, we were both racing in the first triathlon of the season.  I have started wearing Vibram Five Fingers runners, and Pat likes to tease me a little about them.  He made a good-natured comment as he raced by me, complete with a smile.  Afterwards I told him of my goal and thanked him for helping me reach it.  Today when we met on the run, he flashed the biggest smile ever.  I think that was the moment of my race in many ways, for in a way it embodied the spirit of the whole event - helping other athletes reach their goals (even their silly ones).

I asked Darryl, rather rhetorically I suppose, why I do this to myself.  Three hours of racing takes a lot out of a person.  He responded that I liked the competitive aspect of it, and that triathlon meets me at a level I can compete at.  That is definitely a big part of it.

Then I read his blurb of the day (he emails me every day with his thoughts on a given topic).  He talked about the atmosphere in a race, how it was encouraging, how you could talk to people, and how you went out to do your best knowing there were people behind you.  Yup, that's why I do it.

He also asked why we don't get that same feeling at church.  On the one hand, I know that there are people in my home church as well as in the global church who are there, cheering me on to reach my goals (though they don't ever seem to ask what they are, nor do we tend to set spiritual goals).  On the other, there have been many Sundays that I have walked in and out of my home church without having anyone come up to say hello.  You know, that would never happen at a race.  I could not possibly show up, race and leave without not only one, but tens of people talking to me, encouraging me.  I don't think anyone could.  Newbies show up and have several people who seek to help them make sure they know what to do, where to go, and cheer them towards the finish line.

In the Bible, Paul speaks of running the race - living the Christian life.  I'm not here to knock my fellow believers, but let's learn from this.  Let's challenge each other, encourage each other.  Let's be each other's cheering sections.  Let's stand by each other so that at the end, each one can say, "I have finished the race.  And I gave my all."

Compare and Contrast

Two weekends ago, Caleb and I went out to the Niverville fair.   (Special thanks to Ignite107 for sending us.)  If you ever have the chance, go.  You wouldn't expect it, but those Mennos know how to throw a party.  Good times.  :)

We went on Friday evening and checked out as much of the fair as we could.  Between Caleb and me (though mostly Caleb), we came home with five "stuffies" (funded by Mom, of course).  We went on a few rides.  We caught Matt Falk and Brian "Head" Welch.  Yup, good times.

Our favourite ride (out of the two we actually went on :P) was Spin-Out.  This ride goes round and round and upside-down.  Caleb convinced me to go on.  I wasn't sure this was a good idea at my age, but he insisted, so I appeased him.  We got locked in and all I could think was, "I hope I don't puke."  It started spinning and were turned on our sides.  Every muscle in my body tensed, fighting the forces that were pulling me out of my seat and into the harness.  And then, for some reason, my whole body relaxed.  I still don't know if it was a conscious decision or not, but regardless, it happened.  Suddenly the whole ride took on new meaning.  I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying.  I was almost overcome by a blissful feeling.  Even though I was completely strapped in, I felt free.

We went on this ride three times.  After that, we only had enough tickets for one person to go, so Caleb went on by himself as my friend (who had joined us) and I watched from the side.  I wish I had pictures.  Caleb did exactly what I had done.  I had told him about it, and he was doing the same.  When I could see him, he looked like he was in a state of nirvana, so completely free to move with the ride.  Beside him was a guy enjoying the ride like every other person on there - screaming and with muscles engaged.  There was such a stark difference between the two - both revelling in the experience, but doing so in very opposite ways.  I can still see it in my mind.  I wish I could show it.

The light show was a little less spectacular than U2.

Our (almost) final fair adventure was watching Brian "Head" Welch, formerly of Korn.  Perhaps it was the U2 that they played before the show, or maybe it was the fact that they were the last show I saw, that prompted me to compare the two.  He was playing to a much smaller crowd.  I tried to estimate the numbers, but despite my mathematical skills, I'm not very good at that.  It had the "small show" feeling.  The lights were basic.  The mosh pit moshed, with little concern as to what was going on on stage, other than the fact that music they loved was being played.  Although I know that many were there for love of Brian Welch, I did not get the same "band worship" feeling.  The lyrics of "Save Me from Myself" were powerful, especially as Head dropped to his knees and screamed, "Father!  Thank You!  Father!  I live for You now!  Oh my God, I live for You now!"  I was overcome by awe as I could feel the appreciation and adoration he exhibited.  Sure, he was there to put on a show, but he was also there for so much more.

That's Brian Welch.  I think.  :P

Compare that to the spectacle of U2.  The worship of their followers.  The escorting of Bono et al. on and off the stage.  The sense that they were better than life.  This was good.  It was real.  He was real.  Just another guy, doing what he likes to do.  I'd go again.  I'd even pay.