A Lesson Hard Learned

I'll be the first to admit, triathletes are a crazy group of people, doubly so for those of us who enjoy the longer distances. We take pleasure in punishing our bodies with insane workouts, trading lazy weekend mornings for grueling training sessions. We don't have the luxury of being fair-weather athletes, either, so we learn to tough it out, rain or shine, blistering heat or freezing cold. Thus, I like to think triathlons have turned me into one tough chick. I've trained and raced in some pretty rough conditions. But yesterday, I learned even I have limits.

We knew the weather come race time wasn't going to be ideal. Even though Boise had been enjoying clear skies and temperatures in the mid-70s for days on end, we were well aware we weren't going to be so lucky Saturday. Nevertheless, I stayed positive as the day approached. I refused to give in to negative thoughts and continued to hope for the best. Besides, I thought I was prepared, both mentally and attire-wise, for the imminent inclement weather. Boy was I wrong.

Yesterday, I learned that sometimes no amount of preparation can ready a person for certain situations. It didn't matter how many hours of training I had logged, how much gear I invested in, or how tough I thought I was. Sometimes, you just have to know when to say when.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but yesterday's race was that moment for me. After suffering for hours in 43 degree weather at the Lucky Peak Reservoir, bracing ourselves against high winds and sleet, my racing partner and I had to make the call. It was gut-wrentching, all of that training and travel expenses gone to waste, but we knew we had to walk away. The risk of severe hypothermia was just too great for us chance it. I sobbed tears of frustration as we turned in our timing chips, my pride and self-identity taking a massive blow. Even now, I feel sick about it.

Still, I know we did the right thing. I would have been risking my well-being if I had stubbornly insisted on getting in that water. I was already frozen to the core, my body wracked with violent shivering. I never would have been able to recover after the swim. Even though the officials had already cut down the bike course to 15 miles (rather than the usual 56), due to the dangerous conditions, I knew this just wasn't my day to race. So, I forfeited. It's my first DNF and, I hope, my last.

Sure, there were people who went ahead and competed, and I am impressed with their persistence. Maybe they can withstand colder temperatures better than I can. Maybe they're just made from tougher stock. None of that matters. I have to keep my chin up, knowing I made the right decision for me.

I'm still searching for a silver-lining in all of this. I'm doing my best to come away with some valuable lessons, other than recognizing my own physical limitations. And slowly, I'm recognizing there are things I could have done differently, mainly in respects to my cold-weather gear. I also think the race organization, itself, could have done more for the athletes (a rain tent, perhaps?), but those decisions are out of my control. So, now I need to let this entire debacle go and start looking forward to the next race. Because, there is no doubt that there WILL be a next race...