Seeing Past Limitations

I get a lot of comments from almost everybody I talk with about my love and ambition to participate/compete in triathlons. The majority of these comments include words like, "crazy," "nuts," "insane" ... well, you kinda get the picture. I usually just smile and laugh at these unfounded comments and think to myself, "They just don't know how fun it is!" But my most recent triathlon in Rigby, Idaho had me think twice about everybody's comments and question why I love triathlons and what it means to be a triathlete.

Twelve days prior to the triathlon I checked the weather conditions for race day to get an idea of what to expect. The day prior and the day after were cold, rainy days but Saturday's forecast was warm with clear, sunny skies. I was excited because that meant I would be able to wear my new triathlon wetsuit: a thin, sleeveless, knee-length official triathlon wetsuit. This was exciting to me. So exciting in fact that I didn't consider anything else or pay close attention to the weather thereafter. It was set, rain or shine, I'd be wearing this wetsuit.

Race day was preceded by a week of constant rainfall, wind, and 40 degree weather. Why would race day be any different? For some reason I had it in my mind that race day was a special and magical day, so of course the weather would cooperate and be perfect for this event. To think otherwise was absurd.

The morning of race day I woke up to the same thing I had been waking up to all week - nasty weather. In a fury of gathering everything up I needed for the race while making sure to leave in enough time to arrive in Rigby to get my transition station set up I didn't even consider the weather and how I would need to adapt to mother nature's given conditions. Driving to Rigby with my windshield wipers on high I desperately looked across the sky for some sign of relief or break in the clouds. There was none to be seen. When I stepped out of the car upon arriving at Rigby lake I felt how cold it was outside for the first time, but I put it aside as I took a few extra minutes to add some layers for warmth.

While setting up my transition area and surveying the competition around me I noticed that everybody was putting on full-body wetsuits. "Interesting" I thought as I brushed the foolishness of it off. Finishing my transition set-up I made my way over to the lake to watch the Olympic distance triathletes begin the race and to wait for my two awesome supporters to arrive. It was soon after that the Sprint distance triathletes were to begin the race. I made my way to the water's edge and stripped down to my wetsuit. I was instantly cold as the rain hit my skin and the wind blew around me. I thought maybe I'd be warmer in the water. Ha! Can you tell that I had remembered everything but my brain!?! I stepped through the mud to get into the water and found colder temperatures. (Nooo waaay!) Quickly scanning and sizing up my competition while uncontrollably shivering I again noticed that I was the ONLY person with more than hands and feet not covered by a wetsuit. A lot more! The count down began, the whistle blew, and we were off!

Do you see something terribly wrong with this picture?

I had noticed that some of the triathletes during the Olympic distance swim were walking parts of the swim section. The water in Rigby lake was shallow enough in places that one could touch the bottom. There were no rules against it so for one reason or another people were doing it. Once I went rushing into the lake and the frigid water crept higher and higher around my body I decided that I would walk as far as I could before being forced to submerge the rest of my body into the freezing water. With each step I took and with every second my body was exposed to the water I found it more and more difficult to breath or feel parts of my body. It felt as though my muscles were constricting around my rib cage preventing my lungs from expanding as normal. My hands and feet were completely numb and the numbness continued to crawl up my arms and legs until my entire body was void of any feeling but complete frigidness. I began to become scared. I feared drowning due to my lack of ability to breath normally and the lack of feeling throughout my entire body.

My fear was mentally almost too much for me. As the water got chest high and I knew walking would no longer be an option in a very few short steps I began making my way over to the side of the lake. Standing in waist high water, shivering wildly I debated whether to keep going or throw in the towel and walk away. Two young female safety volunteers in a canoe saw my distress and came to see if I was ok. After telling them my thoughts and condition (mentally and physically) they gave me the options: One, if I got out of the lake I would automatically be disqualified from the race and be unable to continue onto the biking or running portions. Or two, to just keep swimming. They highly encouraged me to keep swimming and told me that I needed to get my body moving to keep the blood flowing which would keep my body temperature up. If I just stood there my body temperature would continue to fall, which I knew would bring on a series of undesirable conditions.

After several attempts and lots of encouragement and reassurance from the gals in the canoe I finally submerged myself in the lake to begin the last two-thirds of the swim. The gals in the canoe stayed next to me as I doggy-paddled my way around the lake. They were my saving grace; without them I would have most likely walked away from the race after only a few minutes into it. Their encouragements became the strength I drew from to keep swimming. Surprisingly the distance and time it took me to finish the swim didn't seem like that long at all despite my doggy-paddle pace. I stumbled out of the lake like a drunk because I couldn't feel the ground underneath my feet. I was numb head to toe...and purple.

Race volunteers stripped the wetsuit off of me. After several futile attempts of taking my goggles and swim cap off my head I had to ask for help because my hands were completely useless. I got to my bike, quickly grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me in hopes that it would almost instantly warm me up and thaw out my frozen limbs. No such luck. I knew I needed to get dry clothes on to help the process so I started to put on my biking pants. After struggling with this seemingly simple task I realized that I needed to get my biking shorts on first before my biking pants. I felt defeated; my own arms and hands were useless to me and had become a handicap. While looking at my two cheering supporters just outside of the transition area for some kind of motivation a race volunteer saw the despair in my eyes and quickly came over to help me. She took off her jacket and beanie and put them on me before helping me get into the clothes I would be wearing the remainder of the race. My friend also took the coat off her back and gave it to me as an added layer for warmth. Every layer was crucial for warmth and protection against the elements.

I may have looked incredibly ridiculous but I was more concerned about my body temperature rising and finishing the race than how much 'race fashion sense' I had. Despite my nervousness riding my bike with numb limbs I cruised through those 12 miles with ease. My upper body warmed up, but my legs become more numb to the point of having no feeling. I could see that my legs were pedaling my bike but I couldn't feel anything waist down. This only made me a little weary about my next tasks, running. My thoughts went back to my first triathlon last year when I made the transition from bike to run; I almost collapsed to the pavement when getting off my bike because my legs were numb.

My transition from biking to running was a little more graceful than I had expected, which I was grateful for. I quickly racked my bike and took off all of the extra layers except a light rain jacket. I was off again for the final portion of the race, a 3 mile run. I had the same experience running as I did last year. My legs stayed numb for the first mile before I got feeling in them again. And for the record it is such a wonderful thing to have feeling in your legs again!

I always give everything I have left in the home stretch to the finish line, but because my body had used up so much energy to try to keep my body warm during the swim and to warm up my body on the bike and run that I literally had nothing more to give than what I was already expending to just run. I gave this race everything I had.

I want to give a huge THANK YOU shout out to my two amazing supporters who sacrificed much to be there for me in so many ways. And a big THANK YOU to the two canoe gals and the girl at the transition who literally dressed me. These five individuals gave me the strength to keep going!

Official Race Times:

Final Time: 2:15:32

Time Back: 0:51:31

Swim: 0:22:47

T1: 0:17:53 - HOLY ETERNITY!!

Bike: 0:52:01

T2: 0:02:01

Run: 0:40:48

Place: 17/18 (age division)

Place: 84/91 (sprint overall)

So, why do I love competing in triathlons and what does it mean to me? My short answer is simple: It's a good excuse to help me stay in shape. But in all seriousness, the quote at the top of my blog says it all, "Limitations are only a creation of the mind." I strive to stretch my limitations to see how far I can really go or how much I really have to give. People say, "The sky is the limit" but I ask, "Why does it have to be?" This triathlon really proves this belief. I could have easily given up during the swim and I almost did. But was I going to limit myself to that or push myself to see how far I could go despite the conditions that I faced and discover what I had in me? Being a triathlete is one of the many limitations I am drawn to try to stretch. It's different for everybody. But there's always a greater potential that can be reached, it just needs to be discovered. One never knows their potential until they see past their limitations.