It was to be a dress rehearsal of sorts. One of my clients was testing out his full body wet suit (an expensive Blue Seventy). We were about to wade into a protected body of water, that while cold, is very swimmable in the summer. We have practiced there many times and I enjoy the opportunity to swim with the seals that call the salty bay home. My client, after a liberal layer of Body Glide and a last minute live demo on how to create goggle suction, dives in and takes off like a spooked blue heron.
We get to the turn buoy and I can see that he is struggling. I know this feeling, that of constriction and the seeming inability to get adequate oxygen. I pull up and ask if he is OK, to which he replies no, not really.
Eventually we make it back to shore using a combination of freestyle, breast strokes and dog paddles. Not wanting to miss a practice opportunity, I rate his neoprene strip and faux transition. Not bad I comment, nothing like a snappy transition to forget about a lousy swim.
He laughs and we towel off and sit on a giant fir tree that long ago had conveniently drifted ashore. He asks a question prompting me into the role of the teacher, an experienced and consulting veteran. The first thing we do, I begin, channeling my best Master Po, is to relax. At the start of the race, look around and notice, don’t judge, just see everything that comes to your senses. I start to drift. Back to the days of standing in knee deep water, surrounded by two thousand of my closest brothers and sisters, ten minutes before the start of an Ironman. I continue.
Distinctly I recall the butterflies, the nervousness, the outright intimidation of what we were about to undertake. Swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 and then run a freaking marathon. Normal people don’t do this. Sane people are smarter than to think that this can be successfully done in a single day. Happy people read good books under the shade of majestic maples. Lovers walk hand in hand as soul mates…….yet here we are. Now in full-on story-teller mode…..
There finally came a day, my tenth IM if memory serves, where my Zenishness (sorry) whispers in my ear as I stood and watched the others beside me navigate through their own fears, hopes and dreams. It said: This was a special moment. A tingling sensation, a radical mix of adrenaline, dopamine and endorphins, had my attention exploding like a beautiful, grateful and very spiritual 4th of July fireworks show. I could almost taste the positive vibration as if it was the most delicious elixir ever concocted. It screamed an affirmation into my soul that I will never forget:
YOU ARE ALIVE, it sang. YOU ARE ALIVE.
I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it, but lost count as now the race announcer had begun the race countdown. I smiled, I understood; I am. 4,3,2,1......
A canon sounds and I take the first step. The step turns to a stroke. The stroke to a circle and the circle to a stride. Eleven hours later it was over.
With the realization that something else was just beginning.
Everything, EVERYTHING, starts with appreciation, with gratitude for this magical and miraculous gift we are given. Triathlon is simply a metaphor, one of ten thousand means to that single end.
My advice then, is simply this: Breathe into the magic of the moment. Relax and find your flow. Move with the grace and élan of a warrior familiar with the dance of life. Celebrate your aliveness. Sing the song of your soul. If it helps, hear that voice as it nails the triad of life in perfect alignment of mind, body and spirit. Sing: I am alive.
Sing I am alive.
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