Sometimes the finish line takes a couple extra steps.
The running is smooth. You feel your heartbeat, freedom, and peace. Your best leg. The swimming is hard but you enjoy it. The feel of the water on your skin as you glide passed the ripples. You feel your inner Michael Phelps. But it’s the biking, the hills. Even though you’ve trained the biking still kicks your ass that’s why you don’t like Peloton. You do strength, running, and yoga workouts only.
But you manage to climb while your legs are burning. You keep pedaling. You remember that you do in fact enjoy bike riding, but racing is different.
This week has been a triathlon.
It’s been an incredibly stressful for everyone in The States but it all came to an end last night, with a few more loose ends. But in all the finish line can be seen.
Finally.
The rainbow comes out after the rain and we were able to watch.
Literally.
The kids and I took a walk and there it was … suspended between the clouds. Taking deep breaths and feeling good. You know I always enjoy a walk or run after it rains. No one really around. It’s quiet. But the best part is the scent. The smell of clean air and fresh earth gives off the peaceful vibes and the rainbow was just extra sprinkles on top.
Been a rollercoaster of a week and the playlist for the week reflects that …
Remember when you got your driver’s license for the first time? Remember that? You walked out of the DMV like Rocky Balboa feeling like I GOT thisssssssssssssssssss!
Granted I didn’t get mine until I got out of college, but I was living with a driving permit for years. Not because I didn’t want to take the test, but I actually didn’t need a car in school as the subway was the way to do, and walking. So I didn’t have a need for one really. But once I got out into the real world and started working, that license was imperative. Not just for work but for the independence that came with it. The driver’s license was much more than permission to get behind the wheel.
Now, driving doesn’t feel like an accomplishment at all, just an extension of the everyday. Parallel parking in a tight spot while random strangers are watching you from their porch? Now THAT still puts an extra spring in my step! I strut like George Jefferson when I pull that off.
But thinking about my license and traveling back in time, that was an epic day. One I looked forward to most definitely. And so during my little time traveling escapade I realized that I’ve been missing the “looking forward to” aspect.
There are little things here and there to be grateful for, can’t deny that. Parallel parking as I mentioned, rocks. Under current circumstances, gratitude makes this adventure we’re all going through better. But feeling the feels, like that driver’s license vibe … that’s missing. The assuredness that you’ve planned or prepared for something and it’s about to go down.
That’s been missing a long time.
I was reminded of that this week, though, as I couldn’t go to any of my kids’ soccer, hockey, or baseball games seeing how there was no season. Looking forward to seeing them play, their hard work and skills learned during the week tested out there, the smiles on their faces when things went right and the sighs when improvement was still needed. Or the feel of the big league stadium when you’re at the ballpark and it’s playoffs, the cheer of the collective crowd. I miss that. I don’t miss the damn beach balls that always seem to bounce in your line of vision when someone has an epic play at home plate.
The “looking forward to,” part was missing and it feels like I’ve been stuck in an elevator between the 7th and 8th floors telling everyone else stuck in there with me, ‘well when I get out, what I’m going to do is this …’ ‘
We’re all making plans, we’re all plotting out what’s gonna happen first. I mean I know Disneyland will probably be packed. No doubt.
But this elevator sucks and those doors are going to be closed for a long time. So I have to find moments until the doors open, even if they’re not driver-license worthy, they still give me something to look forward to beyond the everyday routine.
The race, for instance.
Most of the time my obstacle races and runs present both physical and mental challenges that make me laugh and feel good. Give me those Gatorade worthy moments. But this year it’s done with a virtual twist. I did my dad’s race that way and even though it wasn’t the same it did give me the looking-forward-to-it vibe. I had purpose. I felt that pitter-pat. So when a friend of mine sent me a link to a virtual race for our old school, I thought cool shirt. I’m in. I want a little something different.
It broke up the regular of this irregularity. So I had something to look forward to, something out of the ordinary. A little excitement bubbled as I joined others feeling the same way, participating, being part of a community even if we weren’t at the finish line at the same time. It was good to do a little something different, to reach a goal and to reach it with my kid. It was a good break from the stuck elevator.
🙂
And so my life remains in chunks, and even though I’ve been grateful for the wake up in the morning without Coronavirus chunk, I wish, like everyone else, that there were more driver’s license moments.
I saw my legs climbing up the steps. The beads of sweat forming in slow motion. I heard the sound of my heart pounding. And I saw it … the orange lightning bolt.
Is it in you?
Duuuuuuuuuuuuude.
Yessssssssssssssss.
It was a Gatorade-commercial-worthy moment.
That was me …
I belong in that Gatorade commercial.
My calves demand it.
They ran, they stomped, they climbed, they pumped, and then literally danced their way to the top with the power of Los Tucanes de Tijuana’s La Chona and Vintage Trouble’s Strike Your Light. The rooftop crowd was impressed with my Zapateado, Quebradita and James Brown dance moves and the fact that I still had enough energy and strength in my legs to pull those off as I reached the finish line.
My lungs felt a surge of air, I saw sunlight. I raised my hands up like Rocky Balboa. I had made it.
But it wasn’t easy.
It was the same building. The same amount of steps. The same claustrophobic staircases. The same heavy air restricting the oxygen levels being sent to my muscles. The same insanity. I knew what was coming. My mind knew it. My knees knew it. My quads knew it. The four-dollar coupon for Advil from the CVS knew it. My calves did not. Apparently they didn’t get the memo. I thought I was prepared, but my calves flipped me the bird by the thirty-second floor and I couldn’t believe it. In truth they were pissed off by the fifth floor. I felt them weakening and cramping up just as the air circulation ended.
I heard them saying … Pinche Guat!
But I didn’t understand it, I stretched out.
Apparently air is important when exercising. It oxygenates my muscles. However by the fifth floor there was no gentle breeze or ventilation from the open door at the starting line. Thus the hostility of my calves.
I was on lock down with close to 1,000 other climbers making their way to the rooftop and no Febreeze in sight. Granted we were in waves, but the lack of cellular respiration was the same … apparently I was choking my calves and they were responding by cursing me out.
But I hung in there. I had that orange lightning bolt in my sights. I had a cause, and I had my Dad. With friends and family I helped raise over $500, contributing to the $195,000 raised collectively by all the climbers. I was part of something bigger, trying to make someone’s life better and that felt good.
So even though my calves were ready to strangle me from all that I was putting them through … It was on. The Fight For Air Climb was on.
63 stories.
Close 1,400 steps.
My Dad … He’s worth it.
The challenge waiting for me… I thought I got this.
But upon closer inspection … Dude. Duuuuuuuuuuuuude!
Once I arrived I made my way to registration to get the magic number and my shirt.
Although there were some people with pretty awesome shirts and badass mentalities. This chic just finished a marathon at the crack of dawn and was ready to take on the 63-story challenge.
But some climbers were carrying 60 pounds of extra weight on their back … that seemed more badass.
… However I thought my outfit was better.
This shirt was pretty badass. It got my emotional juices up and ready to go.
After I warmed up I passed up all the memory markers on the way to the starting line.
But once I got there I needed to wait for the big guys to go first.
Waiting for the 3-2-1 Go … but looking down you would think after a whole year I would have bought new sneakers. But it was all good … These sneakers have experience and a little wear and tear, just like their owner. They’ve got character and they got me to the top.
Climbing 63 stories with an awesome playlist, and angry calves, earns you a Guatacular view 🙂
After celebrating my Rocky Balboa moment I waited for one of the perks of the post-climb festivities.
Once the muscle relaxation and thorough oxygenation of my muscles was complete, I checked out the results … 63 stories, 1,400 steps. I clocked in at 17 minutes and 47 seconds. Faster than last year. 🙂 I high-fived myself and called Gatorade Inc … I’m ready to film my commercial.
Yeah. I’m suffering from Warrior Dash Syndrome. I’m having withdrawals. I’m craving a challenge. I was left with such an awesome feeling that I want to repeat it.
But I have to admit I don’t like running.
I feel like if I’m not training for anything there shouldn’t be any sprinting involved. I feel like if no one is chasing me, there should not be any running within a five-mile radius. Running should have purpose. I need to find another race. Another challenge.
I’m on the lookout.
made specific for the triathlon wikipedia page, made up of licenses images from wikimedia as well as a few of my own photos which I release to public domain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I found a race I’ve done before. The Tin Man Triathlon. Not IronMan … TinMan. The lightweight metal on the Periodic Table of Elements. Wait. I don’t even know if it’s on the Periodic Table of Elements. It’s sort of a metal-like substance. Well regardless of its lightweight status, it was one of the proudest athletic moments of my life, other than the Warrior Dash. It was on The Bucket List, and I was so happy to have crossed it out.
Could I do a repeat performance?
Possibly.
Training for the running and biking part was doable. Although while I was training for the biking portion of the race I was zooming along and a parked U-Haul came out of no where and sort of crashed into me while it was sitting there on the corner. I mean I saw it, but for some reason my brain didn’t send the message to my body parts and before you know it I was en route, semi-airborne, and smacked right into the back door of the U-Haul. It was a short trip. My body was up against a picture of some walrus and an interesting Venture-Across-America-Did-You-Know fact, which wasn’t really interesting at the time.
I had to take a minute to recuperate. Several actually.
So training is not super easy, but it’s not exceptionally difficult either. I made it through the race all right, until I hit the swimming part. I trained in my uncle’s pool, and well seeing how there’s a rift in the family ever since my uncle passed away I’m pool-less.
Can I go to a public pool? Sure. Sure, but I have issues with swimming in urine. It’s just not for me. So this is my predicament.
I’d have to swim at least a couple of times before heading into the race. I mean how can you train for a triathlon and not splash around in a pool? How do you train for swimming when there’s no pool. Maybe I need a giant tub.
I don’t know. I mean I didn’t swim every day, and it showed when I got to the swimming portion as numerous people passed me. It got to the point where I was so tired that I stopped doing the freestyle and started doing the backstroke. For some reason that seemed easier to me and I went zooming along. Well not really zooming, more like Nemo, cruising the waters. I was pretty exhausted.
But I got my medal and I was ecstatic the entire day. My first triathlon. I felt badass.
The Wish Factor 