My recent birthday declared that I had lived for forty-nine years. As a married woman for 28 years, I quietly raised two sons and worked numerous anonymous office jobs. I was never arrested nor hospitalized. My life reflected careful planning and safe choices. I secretly longed for proof that I was someone special.
During a recent family dinner, my two sister-in-laws suggested that we join the 2002 Danskin triathlon that was being held in Austin this summer. Even though none of us appeared to be dedicated athletes of any sport, we quickly challenged each other to the race. We committed our time, our resources and our support to one another. Our families pledged their enthusiasm.
"The woman who starts the race is not the same woman who finishes the race," quoted the 2002 Danskin Triathlon motto.
I visualized this race as my opportunity to re-define who I was. Every day for three months, I faced down the demons of procrastination that chased me while I trained. I ran. I bicycled. I swam. With an extra 20 pounds coating my body, I dedicated myself to the task of finishing the race. No one in the family knew how important this race became to me.
As the sun rose over Decker Lake, I stood shoulder to shoulder with my fellow triathletes. We spanned size 6 to size 22. We ranged in age from 18 to 80 years of age which was boldly marked on our calves and triceps. With cancer survivors leading, 2348 women entered the water to demonstrate that we had transformed their lives. We would succeed. I would succeed.
Then, panic coursed through my veins. Even though I had practiced diligently, I struggled through the water course. I frantically searched to find my breath. The hills of the bicycle course threatened to strip me of my successful plan. As I faced my final challenge of running 3.1 miles, I realized that I must re-focus or lose my dream. Every step demanded careful coordination of muscles and joints. I dared myself not to collapse.
"Run 49 run. You can do it!" yelled a smiling 75 year old woman who trotted by me.
Her words infused me with enough energy to continue jogging through the side-lined crowds. As they witnessed my struggles, they cheered me to find my final resources to succeed. I trotted slowly towards the finish line, one step at a time. Now, I saw my husband jumping and yelling wildly. He screamed enthusiastically. My legs increased their sluggish momentum.
"Go! Go! Go!" the crowd chanted as the distance between me and the finish line decreased.
"You can do it!" yelled my sister-in-law who stood with open arms at the finish line. Having already conquered the triathlon experience, she now shared her remaining energy to encourage me to finish my task.
With detailed accuracy, the time clock ticked off my personal achievement.
"3 hours, 2 minutes, 7 seconds" proclaimed the time clock. I grinned like an Olympic athlete who had broken a world record.
"I finished! I did it!" I declared with my arms in the air as I crossed the finish line and collapsed into the loving arms of my triathlon sister.
As she hugged the last breath of air out of my lungs, I stood amazed at my success. I gulped down a cool bottle of water. Sweat poured from every pore of my body. No longer wobbly, I walked confidently through the crowd to my husband who greeted me with open arms. Even though I finished 2298th in overall ranking and 137th of 139 women in my age group, I finished the race.
True to the Danskin motto, I am not the same woman who started the race. No longer a procrastinator, I am a disciplined triathlete who can train every day for a triathlon. No longer a failure, I am a successful triathlete who can finish a triathlon. No longer an isolated woman, I am a Danskin triathlete who has many cheering supporters.
Now, I know that I am someone special.