Last weekend my dear friend and coworker, Candy, and I completed Ramblin' Rose Raleigh. RRR is the shortest of short triathlons I've ever done: 225 yard pool swim, 9 mile bike, and 2 mile run. It's a very novice-friendly race, as is one of its sister races, Ramblin' Rose Chapel Hill (RRCH is only slightly longer with a 250 yd pool swim). It's also a women-only race, and there is so much love and encouragement for and from fellow moms, daughters, sisters, and girlfriends. The Ramblin' Rose series races are great first triathlons to do.
RRCH was the first triathlon I ever attempted (and completed). It was in October, 2008. Wes had been dabbling in triathlons for a couple years by that point, and he'd convinced me to give it a try. It seemed like a lot to coordinate in one race (and it is...three sports and transitions... What?!), and after I completed RRCH I felt like a complete bad ass. I'm serious. I was slow; I worried endlessly about completing the swim (remember, it was 250 yards in the pool...my warm-ups for my current 3000 yard swim workouts are longer than that) and wasn't so sure I could run 2 miles after biking 9. For my friends who participate in long distance triathlons, that probably sounds laughable. But for first timers (and remember, we were all first timers at some point), even RR was daunting and a little intimidating. So after I crossed that finished line, with Wes cheering his head off for me, I indeed felt like a bad ass rock star.
A month or so later, Wes completed the inaugural Beach2Battleship iron distance race (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run). It was his first (but not last) iron distance event. I went with him and our good friend, Peng, and cheered my head off for them. And I swore (and I honestly meant it) that they would NEVER, EVER catch me doing a full ironman. Ever. Period. I had no interest (read that as nil, zilcho, not gonna happen) in ever pushing myself to those limits.
After that first RRCH in 2008, I decided to tri again. Over the course of the next year, I completed several more triathlons, going up to the Olympic distance Bandits Challenge. (*Funny note: I completed Bandits Challenge dead last that year and heard my name being announced as the last finisher, as the guy on the mike stopped the awards ceremony to declare my finish to cheers of dozens of gathered triathletes. I couldn't have been happier.)
By the end of 2009 I started to think about *maybe* registering for a half iron distance event, which would certainly be as long as I would ever go. No, seriously, not a step longer than a half. I registered for and completed Beach2Battleship half in November of last year. Before that event, however, I traveled with Wes to Louisville in August (last summer) for Ironman Louisville and fell in love. The energy and vibe of that race was like nothing I'd ever experienced. The elite, professional athletes were amazing to watch, but so were the regular athletes. The ordinary people. MY people. To watch those regular folks cross the finish line gave me hope. It inspired me and let me believe that if THEY could do it, then maybe I could do it. It would be hard, and the training would be grueling and time consuming. Some days, it would suck. I'd watched Wes go through training for two iron distance events, and it looked really, really hard. But yet, in spite of all the warning sirens going off in my head, there was something that pulled me in (incredibly...hadn't I SWORN I would never do an iron distance event?!). It was months before I figured out what that something was. At some point on that day in Louisville, I saw myself in those regular folks who were racing. I saw the anguish and pain of the day, and then I saw the delight, relief and near surprise on their faces as they crossed the finish line. They had a notion that they might be able to do the race when they registered. There was never any guarantee, just a possibility. And then they did it. Months after I registered I realized that on that day, the something that pushed me to register myself for this year's race was a belief in myself. If they could do it, maybe I could, too.
A couple months after I participate in Ironman Louisville this year, I will again participate in RRCH, the one that started it all for me. I will join hundreds of other women, the majority of them first-time triathletes, in the pool, on the bike, and on the run. By their mere presence at the race and desire to participate, they show that they at least believe they can. Really, what more can you ask for?
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