Rise up, Rise up

If you had told me yesterday (or last week, or a month ago) that things would go down at the Danskin the way they did today, I would never have believed you.

Coffee in hand, I picked up Megan at 5:15. It was still dark as we arrived at Genessee Park, where we, and over 5000 other women, had racked our bikes yesterday in anticipation of today's event, the 20th anniversary Danskin Triathlon.

Megan and I have done this race together since 1998; she has missed 2 of the 12 years anticipating the births of her kids, and one of those years she came and cheered me on. Our Danskin is meaningful on so many levels, we love this race for many of the same reasons, and some personal ones, too. One of the reasons I love it is simply that we get to spend the morning doing something that makes us feel great, and doing it together.

My game plan today was this: Rock the swim (and try to win it), spin happily on the bike, and walk the run. Though I have finished as high as third place in this race, today was going to be my day to just enjoy the ride.

Following the national anthem, the elite wave hit the water at 6:45. I used my tried-and-true system of cranking hard for the first 100 yards to shake people off my feet and carve out some space. One woman swam alongside me for that distance and perhaps a little further, but to my surprise, in less than 500 yards I was alone out there, pointed straight at the first turn buoy. I was winning the Danskin!

Well, that of course was very motivating, and the half mile swim flew by. I came out of the water first, in a solid 11:27. Then came something I bet I will never, ever forget. The hundreds of spectators lining the swim chute started yelling and cheering. Hundreds of voices. For me.

Really?

It's like those voices picked me up and carried me into the transition area and out onto the bike course. I can't even describe how powerful it was. I just can't.

"You were grinning like an idiot," said Megan later. I am not surprised.

So off I went onto the 12 mile bike course. As I headed out onto Lake Washington Boulevard, the race escort motorcycle pulled ahead of me. I followed the flashing red and blue lights out to I-90, over the bridge, through the tunnel, down to the turnaround point, up the hill...and back to the tunnel. At about mile 8, Courtenay Brown, who is 30 years old, a pro, and who eventually won the race, swept past me with her mischievous smile.

With all of this motorcycle excitement, I forgot my race strategy of "spinning on the bike." Considering I have ridden my bike 6 times all summer, I am feeling sorta zooty about the fact that I held nearly 21 mph for the 12 mile course and ended up with the 6th fastest bike split in the race.

By the time I returned to T2, my knee was throbbing, and the banana I ate before the swim had started to talk to my tummy.

But...I was in second place. The red ribbon can't give up, right? So, without giving it much conscious thought, I didn't walk the run.

"Of course you didn't," Mike said later. "We all knew you wouldn't." Really?

So I started to sort of shuffle along. And through my head went this:

And take my hand. You know I'll be there if I can. I'll cross the sky for your love. Give you what I hold dear. Hold on, hold on tightly. Rise up, rise up, with wings like eagles. You'll run and not grow weary.

That's U2. The song is "Drowning Man" which is sort of ironic.

Which made me think of this:

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary.

That's Isaiah 40:31.

I was passed by two other athletes before finally crossing the finish line. I shuffled at a pace just under 9 minute miles. It was enough, when all was said and done, to net me a 6th place overall finish in my 12th consecutive Danskin.

Ta da.