Ironman, finally.

2011 was  a long year for me, and a serious learning process. Those of you who trained with me know that I didn’t always succeed at maintaining a sense of perspective or gratitude at practice. I think Mike and Megan took the brunt of my grumpiness at swimming; I hope only Ron knew the true depths of my despair during some of those bike rides. 

I kept at it, though, because I know that, fundamentally, I am incredibly lucky to have been able to participate in this. And race day was amazing, and something I’ll never forget, and absolutely worth all of the sacrifice and stress in preparation.

I will jot down some thoughts about the actual race at the end of this, but I’d like to use most of this space to reflect on “racing with gratitude”. I know this is going to end up very “Deep Thoughts”, so my apologies to Jack Handy, and to you.

Ethiopia

I completed my first Ironman in Cozumel on Sunday, November 27, 2011.  We got home from the race the following Wednesday night; that Friday, I left for a conference on HIV/AIDS, in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

Remember back in the day, when Cyndi Lauper, Michael Jackson 'n' friends sang “We Are The World”, about the starving babies in Africa? They were singing about Ethiopia.  Although technically there’s no famine now, a little more than 20% of children born there will still die before the age of 5, mostly from malnutrition, or preventable diseases like diarrhea or malaria. The average life expectancy 56 years. 50% of men can read; only 35% of women can. The average annual per capita income is $1000. There are fewer than 2,000 doctors IN THE ENTIRE COUNTRY of 82 million people.

One week in Addis wasn’t enough for me to be an expert, of course,  but from what I could see, statistics like this mean that, if you’re born there, you and your family of 6 or 8 or 10 (your parents have a lot of kids, because odds are, some won’t make it to adulthood) live in a one-room tin shack with dirt floors. At night, pirated electricity runs to a single bulb in the center of the room. You don’t have indoor plumbing, but there’s a communal water pump that you share with your neighbors; you also share a communal latrine. If you’re lucky, your dad drives a taxi or sells produce, and the family has a source of income. If you’re a boy, maybe you get a couple of years of education, and you’ll likely end up following in his footsteps. If you’re a girl, there’s a 40% chance you’ll be married before you’re 14, and you probably won’t go to school at all.

Q: How long would the calories I burned just on race day keep an adult Ethiopian woman alive?

A: Assume burn of 600 calories per hour x 15.5 hours = 9,300 calories burned

Assume 900 calories per day consumed (avg among the undernourished women in Ethiopia)

 9,300 calories/900 calories per day = 10.3 days of survival for one Ethiopian woman

Traveling for work is the best and worst part of my job. This time, I was especially attuned to the accident that occurred when I was born in the US, to relatively wealthy parents. Who would I be if I’d been born in Ethiopia? Or Mexico? Or even Anacostia, for that matter? 

I know this is dark, and depressing. But when I think about how lucky I am, I want this perspective. I’m not just lucky, like, I got the toy out of the Cracker Jacks. I want to remember that I am GIGANTICALLY, COSMICALLY LUCKY. I am not a religious person, but I feel truly blessed by the opportunities my life has presented. I am hugely, hugely grateful.

Team Z and Race Day

Massive procrastination on my part means I can’t do a proper race report, which I regret- next time I do my first Ironman I’m totally going to do this closer to the actual race (note: probably not).  I do have a few key take-aways from the day, though. 

First was how intense every moment of the day was, and how “in the moment” I was for the whole race. I got through long rides, runs and swims in training by dissociating- spacing out. In general, in my everyday life, I’m about 50% present in what I’m currently doing, and 50% thinking about something else- work, what we’re having for dinner, what I should have said to that jerk in high school, whether or not Herman Cain is in on the joke (note: probably not). But on race day, I was 100% there. I was aware of everything- on the swim, how clear and blue the water was, my breath, my stroke; on the bike, my cadence, the breeze, where I was on the island; on the run, our footsteps, the crowd, every step bringing me closer to the goal I’d been working towards all year. And under it all, I was aware of a base beat of “lucky, lucky, lucky” thrumming in my head. 

I read a quote recently from Virginia Woolf, who talked about “moments of being,” meaning intense sensations that cut through the “cotton wool of daily life.” My Ironman was a 15.5 hr moment of being. 

Secondly, of all the things I expected the day to be, the one thing that never crossed my mind was that the day would be FUN, but it was a thrill- even the worst of it was great. Honestly. 

Team Z was a huge part of that. The team was EVERYWHERE on the course, between the other racers and the awesome, awesome Z supporters who were there in green sombreros (and sometimes not much else- Alexis) at every turn, keeping my spirits up. 

Christie Wellington credits her success to smiling as much as possible. She says, even if you’re not genuinely feeling it initially, just forcing yourself to grin relaxes you, or releases endorphins or something, and all of a sudden, you DO mean it. Having those supporters around meant I was always smiling- and, turns out, I always meant it. (Note: the people from Cozumel were also amazing- how do you write a thank you note to a whole town?)

In addition to the day-of awesomeness, I can’t say enough about how well-prepared I felt on race day. Ed’s training plan meant I felt physically strong all day; more importantly, I was ready mentally. Throughout the year, the message about racing your own race, and not worrying about “measuring up” to anyone else, became my mantra. It was hard not to be intimidated as I lined up next to all of those rock-hard physiques, but I knew what I wanted to do, and how to do it, and that I could do it. And that is entirely thanks to the team- I quite literally could not have done this without Team Z.

Ron

Finally, even though it will probably embarrass him, I have to mention how grateful I am to have had my partner with me throughout this process. It was helpful, of course, to have someone to force me to go to swimming when I didn’t want to go, or to help take care of the dog, or keep my spirits up on long rides. But more than that, I am so grateful that I shared this experience with someone who, for the rest of my life, will “get” what it meant to train for and complete this race. Ron and I trained together almost every day for a year, and ended up side by side for most of race day. We didn’t plan it, but it was fitting, and I was so glad to have him next to me just as he had been all along. Triathlon isn’t a team sport, but Ron’s and my “team of 2” will always be stronger for having completed this together.

The thing about Ironman is, once you cross that finish line, that’s it, it’s over. It sounds trite, but I learned this year what it means to say that the journey, and the process, and the people you share it with are what make Ironman an unforgettable experience. Thanks to Ron, Team Z, and the fates that aligned to get me across that finish line.