'why i tri' an inspiring essay by my aunt, first tri on her 60th birthday

July 11, 2006

Why I Tri

I turned 60 two days ago. I entered this decade of my life by getting up at 4:00am (after a very fitful few hours of sleep) choking down a cold cup of coffee (purchased last night in anticipation of this morning) leaving my hotel at 4:30am, heading for the race parking lot, then joining over 40 new “friends”, my big sister, my two daughters and my niece on a yellow school bus driving me to the race site. I carried a “powerpuff girls” happy birthday balloon( a gift from the junior members of our group) a bag containing my bike helmet, new running shoes(the most expensive pair of shoes I had ever purchased,} packets of strange nutritional concoctions, bike gloves, towel, baseball cap, asthma inhaler, water bottle, pink Danskin swim cap, sun screen, quick dry shirt with my race number affixed, shorts and other items from the seemingly endless list of necessities to bring to the race. I also carried a host of anxieties, doubts, stomach butterflies, hopes and prayers. My mind was a litany of phases: I am a good swimmer, I can walk my bike if I need to, what was I thinking, in a few hours this will be over and I never have to do it again, please, don’t’ let me throw up on the bus.

I was beginning my new decade in this fashion because last September it seemed like a good idea. The date was 9 months away, a virtual eternity. My niece Autumn had been encouraging her mother, her cousins and me to do a “Davis Women” triathlon. The five remarkable women in our family maintain a close bond despite the hundreds of miles that separate our homes. We strongly identified with each other and the “Davis” legacy bestowed by my parents. We have never had a chance to spend time together without husbands and children, or without a wedding or funeral as the impetus for our gathering. We had talked about a trip together for years, but work, money, pregnancies, child care, and life had, up to now, prevented this. When Autumn began her e-mail campaign last fall “We should do a triathlon sprint together! It would be such fun!” it had sounded like fun. Maybe. Being together would certainly be fun. The Tri was perhaps another story but who could tell. Dates of potential races flew across cyberspace and the merits of a women only race were discussed. Autumn, the youngest of the group, was a veteran racer, my daughter Colleen had done her first tri last fall, and my sister Kathy had done an indoor tri,but my daughter Kate and I had never attempted anything like this before. Autumn was the researcher and looked for race sites that were somewhere in the middle between Minnesota and Ohio. The idea of actually doing a triathlon was so far from my reality that I didn’t even know enough to be wary. It was all theoretical at that point. The chances of our being able to coordinate our schedules to arrive anywhere at the same time were pretty slim. And this was really a “we all go or no one goes” kind of plan.

On the day yet another list of potential races opened on my e-mail, the Danskin Women’s Triathlon – Chicagoland- fit all the criteria. It was a woman only race, about halfway between Minnesota and Ohio, in the middle of summer and the date was July 9th!!! My 60th birthday!! It seemed fated. “I’m in on the 9th” I wrote back. What a great way to celebrate my birthday! My sister almost immediately e-mailed me back. “Are you serious? Are you crazy?” “Sure, let’s do it.” I wrote back.

Everyone’s life contains bumpy periods and mine has been no different. The last three years, however contained some really unexpected bumps. My husband was “downsized” three years ago and our financial security became far less secure. I had left my job 18 months before this event because I was eligible for early retirement and we really didn’t need my income. A year after his lay-off, a new job for my husband was still not on the horizon, so I went back to work. After 11 months, my employer “downsized” me and things got a little touchy in our bank account. Add to the financial bumps a serious depression for my husband complete with hospital stays, multiple specialists, and a list of medications that required a course in pharmacology. At the point in our lives when we had anticipated a smooth ride, we had anything but. I developed severe arthritis in my shoulders and asthma which interfered with my ability to continue my previous exercise routine. Over the course of two years, I gained 35 pounds and began to lose my self confidence. The bumps seemed much bigger and my ability to ride over them seemed more in question. Who knows why I said”Let’s do it.” at that point in my life. Maybe a triathlon seemed like something so concrete that I could tackle it. Maybe I didn’t really believe that it would happen. Maybe having a tangible goal was what I needed to start to take better care of myself. Maybe my sister was right and I was crazy. Whatever the reason, July 9, 2006, my 60th birthday found me in a pink Danskin swim cap, holding my sister’s hand, standing on the edge of Lake Andrea at 7:00am.

“The woman who starts the race is not the same woman who finishes the race.”
How could I have known that would be true? How could I have known that I would start my new decade with a tectonic shift in my psychic plates? How can I express how BIG this was for me? How can I even understand it myself? When I went through the “Run start” chute, the tears started. I could do this! I was doing this! I was stronger than I knew, braver than I could have imagined, still had the toughness and determination to face whatever would come my way. My body, just as it was, still overweight, 60 years old, worn and scarred, was still there for me – carrying my spirit in the same way it had for 6 decades. I could depend on it. I could accept it. I could continue to learn to take better care of it and honor it. And I didn’t have to do it alone. All along the way, in the water, on the bike, on the run, other participants encouraged me. “Looking good! Keep it up! You’re doing great!” Volunteers cheered me on, pointed me in the right direction, handed me water, and sprayed me with hoses, “Almost there!” “Last hill” “Only 200 yards to the finish.”

On my 60th birthday, I had a party to end all parties. Over 4000 women came out to celebrate. There were balloons, cheers, banners, hugs, tears and a medal. I will never forget it – I am changed, somehow more me than I was when I started – I will do this again. And I didn’t throw up on the bus!