True to my SELF: The triathlon sting of success

Lucy Danziger, True to my SELF, SELF Magazine
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Picture31

Wow. It was the weirdest weekend. In a good way. I thought of this blog at mile 18 on the bike leg of the NYC Triathlon, when I realized I could possibly medal, if the next half of the race went well. And I thought about the stings I had already had to endure to get to here. And I thought about which one hurt and which ones didn't, and it was an amazing realization.


The feared sting

I'd been told you get out of the Hudson River and have black silt from the bottom all over your face so you look like you have a mustache (thereby ruining any photo ops or just plain making you look icky for what should be a great day). So I'd been told: "Go get a lip wax. You won't be sorry." Revelation: I had never HAD a lip wax, but on Thursday I found myself at Louis Licari for a hair treatment and there's a spa and on my way out I asked if they did this and lo and behold yes, the lovely Vera could see me now. I nearly panicked and ran for the elevator (had heard it's painful) but instead I went into her room and let her pour hot wax on my upper lip area and pull it off. And guess what? Other than a little tiny sting it was gentle and fairly painless. Nothing more than momentary discomfort. So that was my first sting of the event, and though I'd feared the whole wax/torture thing it went off without a hitch. (I've never felt so smooth in my life.)

The emotional sting

Next sting. I drove up to camp to see the kiddies who were having visiting weekend and instead of staying the whole time I had arranged to fly back on JetBlue and get to NYC on Saturday in time to go to the triathlon expo and to rack my bike, two must-dos for this highly organized and safe race. You love the fact the city and the organizers close the West Side Highway and have ample police and fire support for the 3,000 athletes who crave a chance to do their sport in the Hudson and the streets of their favorite city, but the cost is it's a two-day commitment, one to plan and the other to compete.

In the camp environment the stings were of a different sort. I had to ignore too many "You're doing WHAT!?!" from friends and family, and the tone of the comments fell into two groups. One was admiration and wide-eyed amazement that a mother of two in her 40s would be so in love with her sport that she was willing to train and plan and sacrifice for it. (And get in really really good shape along the way, I might add.) The other was from my brother and others in the "too close to lie to you" department who thought I'd gone over the deep end, lost my mind, and was basically being selfish and self-centered to leave visiting weekend and do my own thing. And those are the stings that hurt the most, since it's from a loving place but the basic underlying message is: Who do you think you are?

I asked Josie, my daughter, if she understood why I wanted to leave and do my race and she said: "OF COURSE!" And my hubby was wonderful to stay on and pack up the kids' duffels and do the grueling drive home alone with no other helper at the wheel. I had given him a tip from one of the coaches about placing a pillow or sweatshirt next to your upper thigh to force your right knee to a straight position while you're driving, reducing soreness. It worked for me on the way up and it worked for him on the way down so at least he emerged from the car without the usual pain. But it was little consolation when the task was his. Still, the only sting in this group was from my sibling, and I thought it was perhaps because while our siblings love us, they don't want to see us outpace them or get too far ahead. I get that. But it stung.


The physical sting

Once at the race start, we dropped our shoes and helmet and walked about a mile from the bike transition to the swim start at 99th Street, where a barge sat in the Hudson. Athletes had to jump into the water and hold onto a rope until the horn went off, or else you'd float away and never get back in time for your wave to go off. The current was so strong that it could carry a lollygagging breast stroker a mile in less than half an hour. But looking down from the embankment as the first waves went off we could see big, round brown jellyfish floating on the surface of the water, and they looked mean. "Those don't sting, right?" my teammate said to me as we got into our wetsuits. No, they couldn't be the stinging kind. Not here in the Hudson. Not in a race that has all sorts of other dangers and deterrents. This couldn't be an added hurdle.

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Image1

Well, they did sting, and once I was in the water on the rope I could see the jellyfish flying by and I heard the horn and I had to start swimming, first gently to make sure I would find my rhythm. My plan was to speed up in the middle and then push at the end. Well, the first sting was a jellyfish that I ran over with my left arm, that floated up and stung my armpit (my wetsuit is sleeveless) and next I got one in the neck, and I avoided kicking one with my feet but by now my skin was on fire. I felt one near my mouth and breathed out as hard as I could to send it away but later someone told me I had brown all around my nose and I could only think that was the stinger, which maybe went into my nostrils.

After about the fourth sting I decided to let these painful encounters make me faster-get the heck out of the water, as quick as possible. So I sped up. I told myself these were harmless creatures in the sense that they didn't mean to hurt me. They were just riding the current with the rest of us, and to not take it personally. Getting out of the water at the swim exit, the stinging was a general bath of jellyfish bits, stirred up by the chaos of the swimmers exiting. There were showers and some people stopped to shower off, but I had just seen my coach as I emerged from the exit ramp and he said, 20 minutes, WOW! I couldn't believe my time for a mile was less than my usual time for half that distance. I was off and running and decided to do my best that day, and let the stings propel me.


The verbal sting

I only had one other sting coming my way, from a rider who trailed me for about 5 miles and drafted off my back wheel. When she went to pass me she tucked in so close that she blocked me from getting around her without having to brake and slow way down. Now drafting is illegal since it helps the back rider and carries them along so in a race it's verboten. I was about to try to pass her when she looked back and nastily said: "You're not allowed to just sit there!" This from a woman who had been riding my tail! I couldn't believe it, so I braked to get around her and pumped my legs as fast and hard as I could and left her well behind. I didn't want anyone or anything to stand in my way at that point. Not after what I'd been through.

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I finished the race in a personal best time and got second in my age group, better than I could ever have hoped for. The day was full of stories. A friend ended up on an IV, so dehydrated in the humidity. Another had to get help for a jellyfish clinging to his face in the water, and a third said the jellyfish freaked her out so much it basically made her have a bad race. I decided to channel all the stinging into doing my best. You can't control what comes at you in life, only how you react to it. After the medal was around my neck I went to medical where they washed me down with vinegar, removing the brown from my face and arms and legs and taking away any vestige of sting. The medic worried about the smell but I felt like it was a cleansing bath. No more sting. At least not the kind that hurts.

My time, by the way was:
20:43 on the swim
1:18 on the bike
46 minutes running.

With transitions it was 2:31:23. I had hoped to do it in under 2 hours and 40 minutes so I was really happy!!!


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