Going it alone
By Alison Colavecchia
3.19.01 (www.slowtwitch.com)

In an ideal world, there would always be loved ones at the finish line and fellow athletes which to process the race experience when all is said and done. In the real world however, this is not always going to happen. Others in your family have schedules of their own to keep and perhaps just aren't as thrilled with the idea of standing around for a few hours as you do your thing. There may also be an increasing sense that the more regular the racing becomes, the smaller your need for moral support. As someone who generally has to train on my own and am not attached to a team or a club, there have not been familiar athlete faces to yak with post-race.

My first brush with going it alone came last year as I ventured into my first Olympic distance triathlon. The weather was predicted to be miserable and it just wasn't going to work for the rest of the family to come. Although out-of-town, the race site was a familiar one. Even so the thought of going on my own was daunting. I worried about who I could give my glasses to on my run from the water to the racks and whether I would be able to drive home after the race. I also wondered how I would feel racing knowing there'd be no familiar face at the finish.

I woke up race morning and it was miserable. After sitting in front of the weather channel for 20 minutes, I gathered all my things and went with thought that if I stayed home, I would regret it more than if I tried and things didn't work out. The closer I got to the race site the nicer the weather got, muddy yes but clear. Thankfully I'd been through the race routine before, so I knew what to do once I got there. All went smoothly.

I got to the water and was now supposed to do up my wetsuit. Hating to ask for help with my zipper, I did it myself and thought it felt just fine (wrong!…get help to tuck the flap at the top in). I almost lost my contact lens in the water when I was kicked––luckily this was right at the end––and swam heads-up for a few feet until I was able to stand…phew.

I found my bike more efficiently this year and cycled with a little more confidence. Made it back into the mud of T2 and began the run. My goal for the race was to run the whole thing. It got hot––very hot. I had to walk a little and discovered that folks in the bigger races walk too. As I approached the finish, feeling completely exhausted, I looked around hoping to see a familiar face. Instead I found an empty chair beside the medical tent and watched folks come in AFTER me. One guy was hooked up to intravenous behind me. I felt lucky.

That was it, it was over. No fanfare. No screams of congratulations. I came. I raced. It was time to go home. I grabbed some food (the hot stuff was gone) and found a shady spot to sit for a few minutes, still not conversing. I then made my way back to the racks. Loaded up my stuff and headed for the van.

I smiled all the way home.

Reflecting back on this race, it was a biggee. Until I had done it, I could not have believed that I could get myself to a race out of town, do the thing and then drive myself home. To do this all on my own steam seemed improbable. I assumed that nervousness would interfere with my ability to get the job done. But I did it and know if and when I have to, I will do so again.

By going it alone, I learned that, above all, the person who is waiting for me at the finish line is me.

Me, myself and I can cheer pretty loudly when required.

Still tri'n