The first time is always the best. Funny, I never planned on competing, all I wanted was a tan. Had some crazy belief that swimming outdoors would lead to a better tan and never had the patience to just lay on the beach doing nothing except catching rays.
Working for the University had its advantages, as it was near the lake. At lunch, I drove downtown and fought for parking before doing a 1/2 mile swim. The first swims weren't even that long, ten minutes at the most, but it was the infinite expanse of the lake that seduced me.
Working for the University had its advantages, as it was near the lake. At lunch, I drove downtown and fought for parking before doing a 1/2 mile swim. The first swims weren't even that long, ten minutes at the most, but it was the infinite expanse of the lake that seduced me.
This was prior to diagnosis and I was merely feeling good, better than usual but nothing to be concerned about. I taught myself to swim at age 26 after years of floundering through lessons and living with a constant, shameful secret. A deficiency and abnormality, if you will.
I was now proud to call myself a swimmer and relished my time in the pool, but the first time I saw people swimming in the lake I was hooked and would do or give anything to be one of them, to experience the infinite pool that only the brave and resilient knew. Loooking back, this calling to a life without limits or barriers was the first overt behavior demonstrating my tendencies towards manic behavior.
So off I went into the great blue void four times a week, thinking of nothing but catching the magical rays of the sun to paint me a golden bronze and allow me to show my love of summer.
Soon, parking became an overwhelming burden, both in time and cost, so I started biking to the lakefront at lunch. Each time I pulled up at Ohio St. beach and got ready for the swim, onlookers would ask "are you training for the triathlon?". No, just taking a swim and enjoying the summer days. The questioning persisted and grew with each day until I finally conceded "Yes, yes I'm training for the triathlon." Back at the office, I signed up for the event with three weeks until race day.
My swim conditioning was good, biking fair, but the run was terribly weak and I had no experience whatsoever in transitions. I focused on running, but looking back, the extent of my training sessions were one mile to Freddie's for a slice of pizza and a coke.
Race weekend arrived and I was flying high. This was prediagnosis mind you and I was certainly in a hypomanic state. Packet pickup and course talk were Friday night at the Conrad Hilton hotel on Michigan Ave. Nothing unusual, but exciting to be part of something so new and different. Saturday night prior to the race, I had insomnia. I tried everything to tire myself out. Must say, my house was never cleaner. Finally fell asleep at 1:00 a.m. with the alarm set for 2:30 a.m. My brother picked me up and we went out for breakfast at a nasty 24 hour joint very far on the wrong side of the tracks.
Finally, it was time to race. Great swim, fair bike. By fair bike I mean I found out quickly my bike was poorly suited for racing. It was my brothers mountain bike from college and I quickly rode out of the top gear. The run was punishing and grueling, but quite fun. My brother and sister were there to meet me at the finish. Sitting down with a cup of Gatorade and a banana I announced my intention to compete in Ironman. Tom asked if he should make his reservations for Hawaii now, that's how impressed he was with the achievement.
Funny thing, it seemed effortless to me. Just something I would be doing on a day off anyway. That's when I knew I was hooked.
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