Racing Rasta

Don’t worry be happy: so easy to say so hard to live by.  You can be kind and call it “Type A” or be honest and say high strung, neurotic, or anal retentive; but no matter how you word it, stressed out has typically been my racing style (especially for the big ones).  However, a series of events, unfortunate and otherwise, this season has had me rethinking my approach. 

Last month I drove up to Minnesota to race Lifetime Minneapolis.  This had been slotted as a big race for me with some heavy competition and the potential of earning a pro card.  I became nervous four days before the event when I noticed that one of my glands was swollen – usually a sign that I am coming down with a cold.  As the weekend approached, I continued to swell until Friday when I woke up with a visible lump on the right side of my neck and face.  I had stayed with my aunt the night before at the halfway point so I made a quick stop in urgent care before heading up where I was told that it was probably just an irritation and to not worry too much.  After popping far too many ibuprofen and meeting up with a few former teammates (Evan Koenig, Chris Leiferman, and Kyle Bevers) I felt a bit better but still not great.  Morning came with an even larger face and an unexpected deviation from the weather forecast.  It was raining and storming so hard I drove to the race site with white knuckles.  The entire area was flooded and heavy lightning prompted race directors to delay the start and encourage everyone to wait in their cars.  Once we were allowed to enter transition, I set transition wet and shivering clad in a garbage bag.  Before long we were informed that the Olympic distance bike course was under water and the event was changing to a sprint.  The pro field, however, would have a slightly longer swim than the amateurs, meaning the race was no longer a pro qualifier.  Suddenly the pressure was off.  While I could have been upset I made the conscious decision to have fun in the race and take it for what it was.  Low and behold, I came in as the third overall female – not too shabby considering that within the next 36 hours I was in the emergency room as my face and neck swelled out of control (turned out to be an infected salivary gland in case you’re curious)!

Finish line smiles in Minnesota

Illness kept me from training for the next several days and from doing anything substantial for a full week.  Eager to get back into it, I had a tough but solid week of training the next week leading up to Giant Eagle Triathlon in Columbus, OH (a training race for me).  I won’t bore you with details but to summarize: I stayed with my friend Margaret in the Chicago area Friday night (staying up entirely too late chatting – oops), forgot about the time change and got into Columbus later than expected, dealt with some nutty situations at the expo (including being followed and having our ears talked off by a strange man and an enormous plastic colon for children to play in), had to get poor Ian’s bike fixed (I swear he’s cursed), didn’t have a chance to ride/run on the course or to swim, and took the risk of eating grocery store sushi for dinner after realizing how late it had gotten and that there was nothing else without wheat in the deli.  All of this led to a much later than desired bed time which was followed by fairly interrupted sleep (we were on the same floor as a wedding party – oy).  In the morning, we jammed out while eating breakfast and then walked down to T2 from our incredibly conveniently located hotel.  As it was a two transition race, we set up T2 (in the dark) before boarding busses to T1.  Once arriving at the race start, we were relatively crunched for time so I quickly set up transition and went for a brief warmup run.  As I started stripping down to get my wetsuit on I looked at my feet for the first time since I had tried on my shoes to make sure everything felt right while setting up T2 … and realized I had two different shoes on – one racing shoe and one training shoe.  It quickly sunk in that this fact meant that the same combination of shoes was waiting for me in T2 and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.  I couldn’t help myself but laugh.  While historically any ONE of these pre-race details would have freaked me out, the low pressure mindset of the race allowed me to stay relaxed and anxiety free.  So what happened in my race? I not only won the amateur field but I posted a 10k PR, breaking 40 minutes for the first time!

Oops

Ian showing off his orangutan arms at our post-race adventure to the Columbus zoo

("Whoa, do you have a unicorn on your shirt?!" - quote from a small ginger child)

Throughout my eight hour drive back to Wisconsin the next day I had a lot of time to reflect on the peaks and valleys of my season thus far and noticed a pretty obvious trend.  At my B/C races (Havasu, Capitol View, Lifetime, and Giant Eagle) where I didn’t put too much stress on myself I had great races and met or exceeded my goals.  However, at my high pressure A races where I made an effort to ensure everything was perfect (unending thank you’s and apologies to Ian for putting up with me for both of these races), I was extremely disappointed in my results.  While I considered that this may have been a natural consequence of having had loftier goals at these races, I don’t think that is the reality; I had still set the bar pretty high at the other ones, I just wasn’t as worried about the details.  Instead, the hard truth is that at the big ones I let my anxiety get the best of me and I cracked under the pressure.  In hindsight I can say that a big part of me gave up as soon as things weren’t perfect and I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be.  I didn't dig as deeply as I could have because my heart was saying, “Oh well, it’s already ruined.” 

So now I have a new goal and it is probably the greatest challenge I’ve taken on in this sport yet: change my attitude.  As I approach my next two big races (Age Group Nats and Hyvee Chamionship) I’m doing my best to be fully prepared but to then trust my training and to, more than anything, go with the flow.  I have never had a “perfect” race and probably never will – I don’t think anyone ever has.  It’s time to remember how much I love this sport and to enjoy whatever it throws at me.  To quote the rasta man himself, “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, every little thing is gonna be all right.” 

Staying relaxed pre-race in Columbus with a little dance party

- new tradition perhaps?

**The title of this post does not indicate that the author of this blog or her affiliates support the use of illicit or performance enhancing drugs legal or otherwise in or out of competition.