Skip to main content

Redman Race Report

This is it -- the official rundown of my triathlon experience!  I know many of you (well, at least my parents) have been anxiously awaiting this post, so here it goes.

My Nationals experience actually started a day before I left for OKC when I arrived home to discover my beloved bike had been stolen (chain and all).  This was probably one of the least articulate moments of my life; most of the phone call to my father consisted of four-letter words.  My next flurry of phone calls went out to my lovely friends and coworkers, who made sure that I would have a bike to take to OKC.  I also put out the SOS to the rest of the racers in Oklahoma and was assured that a bike would be waiting for me there.

Saturday was a really inspiring day.  I got to watch several races, including an Ironman distance race.  I saw people overcome pain and fatigue to accomplish something truly amazing.  As the sun set over Lake Hefner I had a moment of fear and panic and excitement as I thought about what I had to do the next day.  I knew full well that compared to some of the folks I had seen that day I would have it easy.  However, I also reflected on the last year and all of the bad luck and change and preparation I had endured and knew that the biggest challenge would be not doubting myself.

I arrived at Lake Hefner on Sunday while it was still dark.  I nervously set up my area and tried not think about all of the things that could go wrong.  When it was time for my wave I set foot in the lake -- and promptly felt my feet sink into the thick red clay.  As the starting horn went off I started to slip and stumble my way down the shore until it was deep enough to swim.  And I swam.  And swam.  And swam.  It felt like that first buoy kept getting farther and farther -- and it actually did, because I missed it twice.  By the time I finally hit that first buoy I had a fleeting thought of quitting right then and there; I was only a third of the way there and felt myself getting more and more frustrated.  Something, though, told me to keep going and I did.  I hit the second buoy, then the third.  I found a section where I could reach the bottom of the lake and I walked.  I know for some that defeats the purpose and spirit of a race, but let's be honest -- I wasn't winning any awards here.  My only goal was to finish, and the little burst of walking is what got me through.  I can't even begin to describe the relief I felt when I waded out of that water.  I had completed my first open water swim.

The bike ride was quite uneventful, considering it wasn't my bike.  I only had about 15 minutes to get comfortable riding it the night before, so I was relieved not to run into any major problems.  As I completed the ride and came back into the transition area I saw some folks who had set up next to me already wearing their medals and packing up to go home.  I had to force myself to ignore all that and stay focused -- only three more miles to go!

The last leg was smooth.  After the exertion of the swim I just didn't have it in me to do more than walk, but I made sure to walk fast.  One of my teammates cheered me on with bubbles, and at the end of the course I caught up with another teammate.  We went down the finishing chute together to the cheers of CMC.  And suddenly, that was it.  I had completed another triathlon.

Normally I would have gotten a medal at the finish line, but they had run out and gave me a nice shirt instead.  However, a very special teammate of mine who had spent most of Saturday night seeing and hearing how scared I was decided to do something about it.  As I was preparing to leave she said, "You deserve a medal for doing such a wonderful job" and hung her medal around my neck and gave me a huge hug.  It was a seemingly innocent moment but it meant so much.  The folks at CMC were so amazingly fun and supportive to every single athlete that weekend, yet I was aware that I was way out of my league.  At that moment, though, it didn't matter.  I felt like I had really done something special; her acknowledgement made it that much more real.  It was with that indescribable feeling in my heart that I drove home, alternately basking in my glory and planning how early I could go to bed and manage not to fall sleep at work the next day.

So, to wrap this up I wanted to thank all of you who sent kind words and support my way -- it meant the world to me!
                                    


Comments

  1. Awesome job, Meredith. You kept yourself going and you finished, and by golly that IS worth a medal (and also a t-shirt).

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mallrats, 2.0

Now that the Halloween candy is on clearance, 'tis officially the season all up in this joint.  The stores are already in full Christmas swing.  I even heard "Winter Wonderland" playing, which was hard to take seriously when it was 75 degrees and sunny.  With Black Friday fast approaching, I've already seen some holiday hysteria: * I was in a store looking for lady stuff.  There were three nuns in the lady stuff department.  I was torn between wanting to stay as far from them as possible and wanting to sneak up behind them and see what they actually bought.  I know that they need unmentionables too, but I figured that was just standard issue with their habits, along with the sensible shoes and Clorox to keep their whites looking white.  Do they have to follow a dress code for their underpinnings, too? * A guy walking in front of me clearly had his shirt on inside out.  Was he a messy eater and figured, "hey, it works for the couch cushions..."?  Is that a

The Power of Yet

Last week I attended a meeting where the presenter discussed the power of "yet"-- how someone can re-frame his/her thinking so as to have a growth mindset.  For instance, instead of saying "I can't run a marathon," I should tell myself, "I can't run a marathon...yet."  To be fair, I feel there's a fine line between self-confidence and false confidence; no matter how strongly I believe in myself, I'm not sure any amount of positive thinking will turn me into an Olympic gold medalist.  However, my thoughts on the theory were tested just a few short hours later... I discovered that someone was making disparaging jokes at my expense about my weight.  It's no secret that I have a love-hate relationship with my body; anyone who follows me on social media has seen my #runburstinrun journey. And it is indeed a journey -- I feel like I barely remember where I began, and there is no ending in sight.  The source of the jokes claimed no harm was

"The Golden Years"

This past week I've been working with my students on writing revisions using the genre of flash fiction. Typically flash fiction is 1,000 words or less; for our purposes, we are sticking between 500 and 750. In order to model for my students I created a piece of my own, and I enjoyed reconnecting with my inner writer.  One of my students, after hearing me read my first draft, asked me why I was a teacher instead of a writer #notsohumblebrag.  Now that I've polished my story, I thought I'd share.  It may still need a little work (I'm still not sure I'm happy with how I wrote the ending), but it sure was fun to create. Enjoy! The Golden Years “Mistakes are ok...but not here.  You’re fired!” Fred started filling a cardboard box with his personal belongings from his locker.  He wondered if they had a room of boxes somewhere, ready to hand out whenever someone was let go -- something that happened a lot.  In his time at the company Fred only bothered t