I got a feeling...

A few days have passed. I'm back. I feel a bit like no matter what I write here, it won't be good enough, descriptive enough, cool enough. But I can't let it stop me because my mother-in-law would be extremely disappointed. Not to mention, I do want to tell the story. The story of the day I proved to myself that I can accomplish what I set my mind to. The day I looked around and saw the people who love me the most. The day I broke my NO porta-potty rule..TWICE.

Here's the story of a sassy thirty-nine year old lady who kicked some serious ass.

I should start by saying I read a lot about what to expect. I think I read more about how to handle a triathlon than I did 9 years ago about how to handle a newborn baby. I read about how to train, how to hydrate, how to make sure your bike is in a low gear when you rack it. I read in detail about how wetsuits suck, how not to fall down while putting one on and how easily they tear. I also read about triathlons being addictive. OK, you get it. I read a shit-load (my standard unit of measurement) about TRIs before the big day. I read it all. Except one very important piece of information...details/fine print regarding check in central; where to get dropped off with your gear, where to get your body marked and where to get your bike inspected. Doh.

Upon entry to SMCC, the security guard/rent-a-cop certainly did not point us in any particular direction. He was also so concerned with our car getting by his bad-ass without his nod of approval that he didn't notice the baby running into the road directly in front of him. Priorities Officer Friendly, priorities! You should know that by this time, about 11:40, Rich is a little (a lot) impatient with me. I have taken my time, but I was NOT late. Not by a mile. I just was a little more relaxed in getting ready than I think he felt was appropriate. So we have words about where to park, who's going to close the truck door, how much SHIT I have as well as the fact that I have to handle said shit all on my own once I enter Transition.

Lesson # 1 - BE ABLE TO HANDLE EVERYTHING YOU TAKE TO TRANSITION ON YOUR OWN.

Kiss goodbye and I'm off with a huge bag full of everything I could possibly need. Bike shoes, helmet, goggles, swim cap, powder, balance bars, wetsuit, water bottles, sneakers. That is only half the story. The bag was so full I had to put some extra water bottles in a separate paper bag. Walking to my transition station (there are only about 950 so finding your ONE itty bitty location is really easy), the paper bag breaks and my 3 water bottles all roll out of my reach. I have my bike and my bag and no hands. A lovely lady did help me by taking one of the water bottles to Rich because I had finally broken down and realized I could not handle all of the stuff myself. See Lesson # 1.

Really, finding my spot in Transition was not that difficult. Every bike rack is marked with numbers. Eventually I find 331-336. Bingo. Golden. I'm feeling super charged up. On time, prepared, great day. Look around, take in the sites, the people, the people with numbers on their arms and legs. Uhh, wait a second:

ME to transition neighbor # 340: "Where did you get your body marked?, I'm not marked."
# 340 "who let you in here without getting marked?"
ME: "Um, no one really let me in, I cut through the yellow tape."
#340: "The yellow tape that says "DO NOT CROSS" all over it?"
ME: "Um. Yep."
# 340 "See that line wayyyy down there about a half mile away, with 948 people in it? The one that stretches almost to Cape Elizabeth? Yeah, that's where you AND your bike need to go. NOW."
Me: "Doh."

Now, here I sit tonight, knowing this was soo not a big deal. At the time however, I kind of got into panic mode. My heart was pounding. I was having a conversation in my head that included the words "idiot, stupid and dumb ass".

Lesson # 2 - DON'T CUT THROUGH CRIME SCENE TAPE. IT'S THERE FOR A REASON.
To save space and to save you from falling asleep I will assure you all worked out well, I eventually got to the end of the line, thankfully I found myself right next to Liz Pattison. Liz's kind smile and friendly, encouraging words put me at ease right away. The saving grace of this whole snafu was that I had already found the #335 spot and dropped my big-ass bag. All I had to deal with was me, my helmet, race packet & bike. I spent a little time here putting on my time chip, stickering my helmet and bike...the line moves incredibly fast and before I know it, my left arm is marked with #335 (duh); BETH is scrawled down my right arm; and 39 - my AGE - is on display for all to see on my right calf. Bike inspection, CHECK. Helmet check, CHECK. Rich and Iz had already pumped my tires so I was good to go, for real this time. Phew.

Lesson # 3 - IF YOU ARE NORMALLY FAIRLY DISORGANIZED, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD STICK TO THAT SAME M.O. TODAY.

I definitely threw myself for a loop by being ultra organized and so thorough in my prep. I could pat myself on the back for this or slap myself across the face. Right before I left the house on Sunday I went up and down the stairs a few times looking for my sunglasses. No luck. No time. I took my second pair, which was perfectly fine, but I'm still finding myself a little irritated that I was not more careful with something so important on such a big day. About an hour later, I suddenly and randomly realize that my "misplaced" sunglasses (because they were so important) were one of the first things that went into my TRI bag early Sunday morning. Sunglasses AND chap stick. A bit of advice, when you put your chap stick inside your sneaker for safe keeping and forget about the clever hiding spot 4 minutes later, that is not helpful, that is just plain sucky. I had to actually ask a stranger to let me use her lip balm. That is a low of all lows. My sister eventually saved the day with hers, but shortly after that (when I put my sneakers on. I know, shocking) I recovered the chap stick that was with me all along, safely hidden too well for me to find. Oh Beth.

Lesson # 4 - LOOK AROUND. SMILE.

Once I was okay with my transition area and had put the 90% still full bag in the gutter (because I really only needed six things), I started to breathe. Take it all in. Look around. Then I had to pee. Along with 949 other nervous bellies. This is at about the same time Stasia sends me a text, "do you have the nervous poops yet?" THANK GOODNESS I did not have to deal with any of that. I did use the porta potty, as the introductory paragraph joked. But I also used this time to go check out the swim with my family, look around the transition run and bike entrance and exit, see the groups of women chatting, many carrying pink caps that signify their SURVIVOR status.
I did approach a few women with questions and they were all very kind and friendly. One young (YOUNG) woman and I chatted about wearing flip flops versus sneakers during the run between the swim and the bike. This question haunted me for about 25 minutes before I realized, there is no right or wrong way. There is only my way. And if I find that the way I try it the first time doesn't work, well then, I'll try something different the next time (and there WILL be a next time). As we're chatting I look down at this sweet, beautiful young woman's hand. In it she holds a PINK survivor swim cap. "It's been almost a year," she tells me. She jokes that she "WON" her spot in the TFC by being one of the high fundraisers in the Twilight 5k. She wonders, "was it a prize or a curse?" and we laugh because we're both starting to question what we have done, what we are doing. We say goodbye and wish one another well. She is just a baby. Someone's baby. And a survivor. And a triathlete. I'm surrounded by heroes. I'm surrounded by survivors. I'm surrounded by women doing what they can to make a difference in Maine. This event raised over $900,000.00 for Maine Cancer programs/prevention/research. I am in awe.
Lesson # 5 - NO MATTER HOW FULL YOUR TRI BAG IS OF JUNK THAT YOU DO NOT NEED, DON'T FORGET TO PACK YOUR TISSUES, YOU BIG CRY BABY.
The opening ceremony was emotional. First because I finally met my new friend Kate. We had been introduced by Richy through email. Rich had told Kate, one of his best FEDEX customers, that I was training for the TFC. She immediately emailed me to introduce herself. Kate has been so kind to me over the past few weeks; inviting me to swim groups, giving me advice regarding training, wetsuits, whatever I needed. She is so incredibly sweet. She also became my Facebook friend and began following this silly blog. We felt like we knew each other, although we had never formally met. We were definitely destined to meet during the opening ceremonies. How else would I have found this lovely, cute, spunky girl among 948 other women all dressed in black wetsuits and swim caps? I spot her face almost immediately upon reaching the grassy spot we're starting from, I approach her, we hug for a long time, and she starts to get weepy, just like me. So much emotion! Kate introduces me to her friends/training partners. We find Richy and wave, showing him that we've finally met. I want him to see that I have a buddy to take care of me. Kate and I...we are friends. We are friends for life.

At this point, the cancer survivors make their way up to the front of the pack, they each read a line from a poem about Survival. The message was simple and powerful, Cancer can take your body, but it can't take your spirit, heart or soul.
More tears. Sniffles. No tissues. Need. Tissues. Now.

I'm going to stop here, before the first swimmers even get in the water.

Let me know if you want to hear more about the TRI experience.