Pre-Race Prep (first draft)

It's going to be difficult to explain that my dog Evey has taught me incredible lessons regarding competition, positive attitude, and perseverance without sounding drippy but I'm going to try anyway.

At a certain point this summer (I'm not sure of the exact date) I realized I have no idea what I'm doing. Absolutely none.

I had participated in team sports (B-Team sports) in the past but that just gave me experience in how to play games: hit a ball, run the bases. Serve a ball, score a point. It's not really a background that could give a person the tools necessary to succeed in a solo, multi-sport event like the Iron Girl Duathlon. Run 2, Bike 22, Run 2.

Anyway, I did the only rational thing I could think of to do. I signed up for a triathlon as practice.*

The tri was in Chisago Lakes, a small town just about an hour from the twin cities. It was billed as a "Swedish themed triathlon through the beautiful roads of Chisago County." Perfect. Who doesn't love Swedish culture? It would be a great no-pressure venue to gain experience in transitions, bike racing, and running. While I hadn't ever actually swam in a lake before, I had been going to St. Kate's about once a week and knew I was buoyant. How hard could a quarter of mile be?

The days drifted by and slowly but surely my excitement turned to nervousness which turned into worry which turned into dread which turned into stomach wrenching diarrhea and fear of death. What the hell was I thinking? A triathlon? Lake swimming? Commuting to work is not the same as racing against 1,000 other people and running around the neighborhood is not the same as running in spandex and getting your picture taken.

Following the golden rule of competition I gave myself a few total rest days before the big event... but I couldn't sit still. I decided to take Evey to the dog park as a distraction. Sitting at home, staring off into no where and imagining my sad little obit would only drive me more crazy. The Fort Snelling dog park sits on the banks of the Mississippi and encompasses about 10 acres (?) of forest. The fact something like it can exist in the heart of Minneapolis is yet another testament to what makes this city so incredible.

I walked along the shore throwing a stick into the water for the dog.

The scariest part about the swimming aspect was that I could no longer put my feet down. I would be out there, in the abyss, with no where to go. If anything happened, if I went under no one would be able to see me in the murky brown lake water... especially with all the other people wearing the exact same tri-suits and swim caps. And even if I did make it, I knew it would be at a embarrassingly slow rate of speed. And as we all know, the only thing worse than death is humiliation.

A high pitched yelp echoed through the trees and shocked me back into the present. There Evey was, standing in the river looking at me to throw the stick. I looked at the stick and I looked at her. She yelped again. Clearly she had waited long enough and was demanding that the stick be thrown again immediately. She didn't have time for this. She wanted to be swimming and fetching...

Because it's fun...

Because swimming is fun...

I had forgotten that swimming is fun!

Come to think of it, riding a bike is even more fun! I love to ride my bike!

Not only that, but running is... well... running was also an event!

How had I so completely and utterly loss sight of what mattered most? I threw the stick far out into the river and Evey crashed into the waves. No hesitation. No worry. No fear. She ran back onto shore and dropped it at my feet, ready for another round.

Yesterday I took Evey to the dog park again. Sunday is the Duathlon and I found myself having the same inability to focus, the same fear, the same worry about future situations that may never happen: What if my chain breaks? What if I get a flat? What if my knee hurts in the middle of running? What if I'm not the fastest? Will it disappoint the other members of Team Angry Catfish? How will this cold I have affect my performance? And like clockwork came the high pitched yelp, echoing through the forest trees. There she was, months later teaching me the same lesson: just throw the damned frisbee! Running is fun! Activity is fun! Being around people is fun! Just go!

Which is why this blog posting will remain a first draft. The same little doggie who has taught me so many life lessons is currently looking at me, desperate to go outside on this gorgeous Saturday afternoon. And I know without a doubt she is right. The best thing to do is get outside and enjoy the day.

I don't know what I would do if I didn't have her to remind me what matters most.

*The exact point at which at least 75% of the people reading this stop reading and think I'm crazy.