Childlike Perspective

I woke this morning to overcast skies and rain pitter-pattering on the pavement. Ugh. I just wanted to crawl back into bed... not go race a duathlon in the pouring rain. Having been too tired last night to pack my bag, I sleepily searched my closet for race-appropriate gear that would keep me warm and dry. This combination, I found out, does not exist.

30 minutes later, the car is loaded and we are heading north toward McDowell Mountain Park. There are no signs of the rain letting up. I am in a bad mood, thinking I would rather be sleeping. We pull into the park and unload our gear. We bike down to the transition area and I'm already soaked by the time we rack our bikes. I am so not enjoying this. I'm cold. I'm wet. I'm completely unmotivated to be out here. Not a good way to start a race.

We set up our bikes and I decided on my Splatter Print Race Belt Skirt, calf compression sleeves, and a long sleeved shirt over my TriScottsdale race bra. We started the half mile walk from transition to the start line. As we were walking we watch a couple of children biking toward transition. One boy, who couldn't have been more than 7 or 8 years old, with a huge grin on his face steered his bike through the biggest of puddles. Complete innocence and joy. For the first time all day, I laughed. I remarked to my SkirtChaser that if you watched any adult on the same course, they would intentionally bike around the water puddle. This boy wanted to bike through the puddle.

As we anticipated the muddy, slippery course that was ahead of us, SkirtChaser said to me, "You just have to look at this like a 10-year-old. Just have fun." And I did. When the timer went off, I took off down the road. By the time we hit the trail, the crowd was thinned out and I picked a friend of mine to pace off of. The trail was trashed. It was a complete and total mess. It was a wet, muddy, slippery mess. I allowed myself to get warmed up and find a rhythm and then I picked up the pace. Rather than worry about getting my (already soaked) feet wet by dodging mud puddles, I ran right through them with no regard for the splash. And it was fun. I was smiling. Laughing. Having a good time. I didn't wear a watch... mostly for safety reasons (I'm too competitive and with the pouring rain I didn't want to risk pushing myself too hard on the wet bike course). So with no sense of pace or time I just ran hard, like a child.

By the time I hit the bike course I was warmed up. With the exception of my hands, the chilly rain did not bother me on the bike. I pushed hard on the uphills and maintained a decent pace on the downhills. My glasses were completely fogged over, but with all the sand and rocks being kicked up from the road, I couldn't risk taking them off. Thankfully, this is a small race and the course is not extremely crowded. When I made the final turn back into the park at mile 15 I knew I was on the home stretch. I FLEW up the 4 mile incline. I was passing people like they were standing still. I secretly believe I do this because I am not afraid (or embarrassed) to employ my granny gear. I got on the small ring, and with a nice quick pedal turnover, sped by everyone churning slowly in the big ring. Now, my husband is a strong cyclist, and is very capable of climbing mountains in the big ring. But average people, like me, actually benefit from using the small chain ring when it's appropriate. It's not weakness. It's intelligence.

Coming into transition, I hopped off my steed. A spectator remarked, "It looks like you've got a flat tire!" "I do?" I asked. I couldn't see through my glasses to actually confirm this, but when I got to my rack and checked, sure enough, my front tire was flat! I didn't even know! I think it must have happened in the last 1/2 mile stretch, otherwise I would have lost control making the left hand turn back into transition. Thank goodness! There were a lot of mechanicals out on the bike course and I'm glad I didn't become one of them.

I slipped my feet back into my soggy running shoes and took off for loop number two, a slightly shorter but much more technical trail. I was grinning ear to ear. The rain continued to pour down and the mud puddled on the course. I ran. No concept of pace other than my breathing and the burning in my chest. I jumped over ditches and splashed through puddles. I was having the best time. One final lung-searing hill and a quick downhill and I was back on the road heading into the transition. I smiled. I laughed. I got more than one odd look from other racers who were wearing rain ponchos and other heavy gear (I was only in my Skirt and bra by this point). I skipped across the finish line covered in mud from my head to my toes. Soaked to the bone. This was the most fun.

I know I finished fourth in my age group, cause the SkirtChaser told me so. But I still have no idea what my time was (about 1:58 I think). I do know I had fun despite myself. Given the chance to act like a child, I forgot my stress and my worries and my fears. I just ran. And biked And ran. Without a care in the world. I think I will try to hang on to this joy for a while. It suits me better than the black cloud I've been wearing lately.