For those of you who don’t know, I am a bit of a fitness freak. Now, I’m no Mia Hamm or Jackie Joyner Kersee and if I tried this:
I would most likely end up looking like this:
But all in all, I’m no slouch.
I haven’t always been fit. In fact I used to be, shall we say…a bit on the large side. There was always a healthy girl inside of me struggling to emerge, but she usually shut right up with a little bribe in the form of cheesecake. Today, though, I get a lot more enjoyment out of kicking my ass rather than sitting on it.
Six years ago I started my current job (life saver extraordinaire) and moved into my own apartment. Once I dropped the figurative dead weight in my life, the literal dead weight started to drop right off. And at the risk of pissing off every person who’s ever tried to lose weight, it really wasn’t that hard for me. The hard part was getting my shit together and taking personal responsibility for my health. As soon as I figured that part out, the fitness part was cream cheese (fat free).
So why am I—a raging liberal political junky whose writing could make Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II roll over in their graves—writing about my experiences with getting fit and healthy? Well…
In approximately six months I’ll be participating in my second Maine Tri For a Cure, a sprint triathlon in South Portland. I’ve done many races over the last six years—10 Ks, 5 Ks, Half Marathons, Triathlons, and even a Full Marathon. Yes, I’ve gone the full 26.2 miles and let me tell you, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I would have cried at mile 20, but I had lost so much fluid that even my tear ducts were dried up. BUT, the Maine Tri For a Cure is the best race I’ve done out of all of them. One-third of a mile swim, 15 mile bike, 3.1 mile run, and every inch of it the most supportive and inspirational stretch.
Let me tell you a little bit about my last experience in the triathlon. Now, the bike and the run I had no issue with. Christ, I had just finished 26.2 less than a year before, so I could whip out a 5K in my sleep. The bike leg required a little more focused training, but 15 miles—meh—no problem. More or less, I had no worries about the bike and the run.
The swim, however, was a different story.
Oh, and by the way, they forget to inform you that there are actually four legs in a triathlon. The first leg takes off before the clock even starts—it’s called the wetsuit competition. It’s a damn workout getting one of those things on and for the spectators, it’s like Antoine Dodson—you can just sit back and watch it all day and it never stops being funny. Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife.
Anyway…swimming, I love—in a controlled, fish-free environment, preferably a heated swimming pool. Fish freak me out. The only place I want to see them is in a tank or nicely broiled on my dinner plate. I trained at a lake prior to the race and I was swimming along once and, suddenly, underneath me was a rather large and daunting rainbow trout. Let’s just say, I bolted out of that lake faster than a plate of brownies disappears at a Weight Watchers meeting. I went home, thought long and hard about how dedicated I was to this race, and decided the next day to return to the lake and face the rainbow trout head on.
With training complete, it was race day. I hadn’t seen the swim course fully marked off yet, so one of the first things I did was go to see it. My jaw dropped. I had to swim half way out into the frickin’ Atlantic Ocean. My first thought was, “Holy shit, I’m going to be playing victim number 1 in Jaws Part 5.” Then I worried that I might not be able to even do the swim leg because, not knowing we were swimming to Ireland, I left my passport at home. But then I thought about how I faced the rainbow trout and lived to tell about it. So I sucked it up, jumped into the cold Atlantic Ocean, and with buoyancy on my side, the swim ended up being my strongest leg of the triathlon. I emerged triumphantly from the ocean and with my shorts half way down my ass, I hustled to the transition area and took off for the final two legs. About an hour and a half later, I crossed the finish line.
This was the best race I’ve ever done and the best part about it is that the money raised goes to cancer research, education, and support programs. Who the heck can say they haven’t been touched in some way by cancer?
There’s no word to describe the atmosphere at this race and every person there whether they’re a participant or a fan has some heartfelt connection to the cause. I’m a pretty tough chick and there only a few things that make me cry (like that goddamn Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial), but I was choking back tears as they called the survivors to the start of the race. I can honestly say that the reason this race is so special is because it’s really not about the people competing in it. It may sound like a lot—1/3 mile swim in cold, open water, 15 miles on a bike, followed up by a 5K race—but the second you think about why you’re competing makes you grateful that you have the ability to race.
The answers that have perplexed us for years are out there waiting to be found. Scientists are doing amazing things every day and organizations like the Maine Cancer Foundation are out there making sure these researches can keep finding new treatments. The scientists are doing their part and all they ask in return for caring for us and our loved ones is that they have enough resources to continue their work.
Please visit my website and maybe offer a few bucks for the sake of treating and maybe even curing a disease that has taken so many people from us. And even if you can’t give, I hope that you might be able to come on July 29th to Spring Point Head Light and support all of the women participating and support all the people they’re racing for. It’s an amazing experience whether you’re an athlete or an athletic supporter!
Thank you so much!
Yours,
Liz
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