#allsmiles (Ramseur International Triathlon Race Report)

After my 70.3 heartbreak and comeback in June, I jumped right back into training after a week of recovery, even though I didn't have a race on the calendar.  In my heart, I really wanted to try another 70.3 race, so I began to focus my training on feeling more confident in the water and improving my bike skills.  However, mid-way through the summer, while talking with a friend about my Fall schedule, I realized that completing another 70.3 race in the middle of trying to train for my first full marathon probably wasn't the best idea.  I decided to look for an International Distance triathlon instead since it would still challenge me with a longer swim, but wouldn't require at least a week of recovery after race day.  As I began to narrow my options for races in our area, an opportunity fell into my lap via a fantastic community that the hubby and I have become a part of.  As part of a Freebie Friday Giveaway, I was gifted a free (FREE) entry into the Ramsuer International Triathlon.  This was only the second year of this race that is about 45 minutes from our front door.  I had toyed with doing it last year, and had looked at the website multiple times for the race this year, but hesitated to commit. . . Until this freebie found its way to me!

I quickly registered and penciled it into the calendar, but didn't give it much more thought until race week arrived.  No stressing, no panic filled thoughts, just continuing to swim and run, while letting my bike slide a bit.  Honestly, I have never approached a race with such calmness and with so few worries.  The week before the race, I received emails with race details and water temperature updates that I glanced over and discarded.  (It was 82 a week prior to the race, but temps were dropping and nighttime lows were low, so I remained hopeful for a wetsuit legal swim.)  The night before the race I decided to clean the house, do four loads of laundry and bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies.  My bags for transition didn't get packed until 10pm, and even then I wasn't sure that I had everything.  However, the calmness remained and the panic stayed away.  A quick check of the water temperature online (77 degrees) indicated that I needed to add my wetsuit to my bag before turning in for the night. 

5:00 am came early the next morning.  Coffee was made, bags and bike were loaded up and sleeping kiddos were moved from beds to car seats.  As the hubby drove, I told him how amazed I was that my usual pre-race jitters were essentially non-existent.  I continued by saying something that I had told several friends the evening before as they wished me luck--This race was ONLY about having fun.  Nothing more.  I wanted to go out, have a good time, and smile as much as possible.  "This is like a fun training day!"

When we arrived at the race site, I realized that the field of athletes was fairly small--maybe 200 total, but if the bikes in transition were any indicator of talent, there were a few fierce competitors in the field.  In fact, a former pro triathlete that the hubby knows was there to compete in hopes of taking home a cash prize as a top finisher. (He did just that with a 2:01 finishing time).

As I set out my essentials for each leg of the race, I began to feel the panic creep in, especially when the director announced that the swim would begin right after the pre-race meeting.  After I shimmied  squeezed into my wetsuit, kissed the hubby and kids, I made my way down to the water with the rest of the athletes who were nervously engaging in pre-race chatter. 

The men entered the water first at 8:00 with the women following at 8:04.  As soon as the men made their way to the first buoy, I decided to submerge myself and take a few practice strokes.  As soon as I hit the water, the panic began--the water felt cold and seemed darker than the lake I was accustomed to swimming in.  After a few nervous strokes out and back to the shore, I stood up and scanned the shoreline for the hubby.  When I got his attention, I mouthed, "I don't want to do this", shaking my head.  Before I had time to think about it, the horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.  I took a deep breath, counted to 10, and started swimming toward the first buoy.  I got about 25 meters from shore when I stopped to breaststroke and regroup.  For a split second, I turned to look at the shore and thought to myself, "It's not that far to go back, but it is pretty far to keep going".  Just then, a struggling swimmer came beside me spluttering and panicking.  I was reminded of a girl, who not so long ago, might have turned back, and then I said out loud, "I'm not finished" and turned to swim into the race course instead of back to shore. 

The swim was a two-loop configuration with six buoys marking the course.  My thoughts through the first two buoys were to stay calm and find a rhythm.  Swim buoy to buoy and focus on something positive.  By the third buoy, I felt a wake of water surround me as the first male competitor (the hubby's friend) was speeding quickly through his second loop.  At that point I set two goals for myself--pass someone (anyone) and don't let all the men pass me on their second loop.  (The hubby had given me a goal in the car that morning--don't come out of the water knowing any of the kaykers and their life stories.  In other words, don't hang onto a boat and chat it up while "catching your breath".)

The remainder of my swim was calm and focused.  In fact, it was probably the most peaceful swim I had ever experienced.  I concentrated on gliding, breathing and focusing on the positive of the moment.  43 minutes and 8 seconds from my starting time, I walked out of the water, smiling, with a new sense of confidence.  Every goal I set in the water, I met.  In fact, I passed men in the water on my second loop!  I also met hubby's goal by not stopping or resting at a single boat on the course.  My swim speed still has a long way to go, but I was able to keep moving forward the entire swim and that was a huge step for me. 

I transitioned slowly from the swim to the bike, and noticed that my slow (but steady) swim placed me at the back of the pack of cyclists on the course.  As soon as I got onto the road, I began regretting all of the mornings that I had slept in, ignoring the bike trainer.  Truth be told, it had been weeks since I had ridden, and it showed.  The course was full of rolling hills with a few challenging climbs scattered throughout.  I decided not to worry about my lack of training and just enjoy the ride, and since it seemed that Fall had arrived while I was swimming, there was plenty to enjoy.  The weather was overcast and cool and a few colorful leaves marked my path.  Most of my ride was solo, as the other riders were ahead, but I did manage to catch and pass a few women and even a couple of men over the 40K bike ride.  I arrived in transition smiling and ready to run.

After racking my bike, I set out for what is usually my favorite part of triathlon--the run.  However, I had been battling a lower leg "injury" for six weeks leading up to the race.  I was unsure how my leg would hold up for the run and was ready to pull out if I needed to.  I timidly left transition at a pretty good pace, with a plan to follow the 4 minutes on-1 minute off plan that I had been using in the weeks leading up to the race.  After 4 minutes of running, I asked myself if a walk was needed.  Nope.  So I kept pushing on and decided to "check-in" again at 8 minutes.  I continued this method for the remainder of the course, but only "needed" to walk twice (up a long gravel hill leading to and from the trail).  The run was two loops, some of which was on a great trail, and I found myself moving effortlessly and passing both men and women on both loops.  As I began the final leg of the run, uphill, I peeked at my watch.  I knew what my last International distance time had been and as long as I could make it up the hill and across the finish line, I was going to smash that time.
And I did. A 17 minute PR made my smile even bigger as I crossed the finish line.

After a quick soak in the lake, I gathered up my things from transition and asked the hubby if he had seen the posted results.  I felt certain that I hadn't finished anywhere near the front, but I was curious about my standings within my age group, figuring that I was somewhere near the back of the pack even though it was a smaller race.  We walked over to the awards area and scanned the posted results, but couldn't find my age group.  Since we were both curious to hear the winning times for my age group, we decided to hang out a bit. 

Soon, the announcer said, "And in the Women 35-39 group, In FIRST place, with a time of 3:19:54"

Wait.

I looked at my watch.

That was my time.

What?

"Erin Leventhal"

I couldn't believe it.  Surely there was someone faster.  I mean, seriously, that time is not crazy fast.  However, the other three women in my age group finished 4, 6, 23 minutes behind me. 

First place in my age.

Later in the day, The Reporter was getting ready to leave for a sleepover and she came into my room.  "I'm so proud of you, Mom," she said.  I wiped a tear away as she turned to leave.  "Me too," I thought.  But not for winning my age group.  I was proud of staying calm and not getting caught up in the stress of the moment.   I was proud of staying in the race when I had a moment of doubt or fear.  I was proud of pushing through when the swim, ride, or run got tough. 

But most of all I was proud of staying #allsmiles for the duration of the race--as I found my happy, my confidence and my peace while having fun doing something I love.