Pure 50
“The goal is to complete, not to compete.”
Those were the words that I overheard Lisa Anderson say to another wannabe triathlete, as we traveled to the cold waters of Georgia’s Lake Lanier for Iron Girl training.
For years I had wondered if I had what it took to make it through a triathlon. Iron Girl was considered a sprint triathlon composed of 1/3 mile swim, 19 miles on the bike and a 3 mile run.
I wasn’t concerned about running or biking. Sure, I could swim and had even been an active diver for years. But overcoming my fear of swimming open water without my dive gear was the challenge. The idea of countless women swimming on top of me, kicking their way to the finish line worried me intensely. Claustrophobia in open waters would be truly strange, but that’s exactly what I imagined feeling. I could lose it out there. My mind had to be ready to conquer the fear of swimming in what felt like a bottomless pit of water.
I was the one that always said, “If not now, when?” Well my “now” was two months away and I needed to get moving. My ego would not settle for anything less than a finish. After all, I was representing Full Swing.
First things first
Immediately it was clear. I had to remove myself from the negative line of fire. Everyone had an opinion about my decision to compete. “You’re too old for that.” “Can you even swim?”
I felt a determination deeper than any editorial comments from family or friends. All their talk made me wonder, How could people live with so much limited thinking? I decided to ignore them all and continued on my journey.
First, I enrolled in every triathlon (tri for short) training class that I could find. Read this, eat that, follow this routine, the experts say. I joined a list-serve and my inbox flooded with advice on the correct way to prepare for a Tri. It was too much information for my head to wrap around. I was drowning in advice overkill.
The one book I did continue to read during my preparation was I AM written by Howard Falco. The “how to” I needed had little to do with strength training or diet, but rather the inner power that comes from knowing your purpose and passion. It truly helped me stay focused as I continued to eliminate all the negative vibes in my life in order to compete.
Just do it and they will come…
I found that the knowledge and support I was searching for didn’t come from training books or people that were closet to me. My support came from people that I met along the way to my goal.
The first person that entered my path to completion was 55-year-old Lisa Anderson. A natural motivator and personal trainer, Lisa was the one who first suggested that I compete. In fact, she motivated and led 50 women of all ages to the Iron Girl finish line. Her training partner, Carolyn Sanders, whose swimming motto was “swim to one buoy at a time,” introduced me to an energy gel, which is referred to as “crack” in the tri community and suffices as food until you can eat the real thing after a race.
The aquatic instructor, Larry Blomberg, held a triathlete-swimming course at my local athletic club. He taught me how to glide under water and use as few strokes as possible to conserve energy. And finally, I met Stan Pike while touring a house he was renovating. A retired triathlete, suggested that I get a wet suit for buoyancy in open water. I thought of the expanse of dark, yawning water and didn’t hesitate. More float power seemed very necessary.
One month out
I rented a wet suit from an online company. They took my measurements over the phone and I had the suit within a week of the big day. Six days out I attended a triathlon swimming class taught by Pete Farren. I attended his clinic at Red Top Mountain in Cartersville, Ga on a gloomy, rainy day. I had the audacity to loudly complain about the cold weather. Pete looked at me as he stood tall in his canoe and said, “Girl, you better jump your buns into that water before I come after you.”
I couldn’t move. Nearly 70 people stood around me, flexing as if they had competed all their lives. I stood behind at the edge of the lake with two other lonely swimmers as Pete instructed everyone to jump in. I decided I would let the splashing knot of eager swimmers go ahead. But I closely watched everyone’s technique knowing Pete would probably come and throw me in if I didn’t get going. Finally, I pushed through my hesitation and decided that if they could do it, then surely I could too.
I jumped in with my newly rented wet suit tightly gripping my body and took off. The water was cool chilly but it didn’t matter, I was buoyant. Not only my body, but also my spirit.
Days before the race
“The goal is to complete, not to compete.” Five days before the race, I heard Lisa’s mantra again as we traveled to the cold waters of Lake Lanier for our last dip before Iron Girl.
I had hit a mental and physical wall, and didn’t want to train anymore. I wanted to save my energy for the race. I said nothing, but I’m sure it showed on my face and in my attitude. Then one of my training partners, Mary Beth, looked at me and said, “Let’s swim out to the buoy located in the deep part of the lake.” The normal dread of yet another day of training was replaced by the paralyzing grip of deep fear. Mary Beth could see it and with the voice of calm, she said, “Sherry don’t worry, I can save you.” With her reassurance and presence nearby, I swam out to the buoy and back in record time. I knew I was ready for the race. I could trust my body to do what I’d prepared it to do, so long as I kept the mental doubts at bay.
The final hours
I lifted my head from the pillow for another peek at the clock. It was 3 a.m., and I couldn’t sleep with just a few hours to race time. It’s often true that life’s big moments overlap or collide. Now I had the added pressure to finish this race under my best time in order to attend my nephew’s high school graduation by 3 p.m. I needed to stop thinking and rest. Alone with my thoughts I couldn’t help being thankful for the remarkable people that had joined me on my journey.
5 a.m.
I arrived at the race site and joined the throng. Each of us felt ready and psyched for what lay ahead, and set about the task of putting our gear in order. Our bikes waited for us in racks, with about 12 inches of space underneath each one to stack our change of clothes, shoes, gear, water and any nutrition to keep us going over the next few hours. A bike clinic representative was on-site to assist us with a minor maintenance check and firm up any tires that needed air.
My age section, the 50-plus group, would wear hot pink swim caps (each age group wore a different color). We would be the first in the water at 7 a.m. I was given an ankle monitor to wear that would track my time during the swim. I wondered if it could measure the rate of my racing heart, too.
6 a.m.
Excitement is an understatement. Anticipation is the greatest high. In a few hours, it would be over and the months of training would come down to a few timed minutes. A loud voice announced, “OK ladies, the water is cool enough to allow wet suits.” Most of the experienced triathletes swam without suits, but I wondered to myself, “Is there any other way?” Maybe next year for me. I grinned and realized I was already making plans.
The big event
The Swim
Face to face with my biggest fear, I mentally tried to measure the distance between each bouy. I could see all the bouys from where I stood and said to myself: “The distance is not that hard at all.” I even had the nerve to be in the very front of the pack, knowing that I could probably get run over by the other women. It was a strange feeling though, not afraid, just wanted it to be over. With all my anticipated fears, there were no more excuses. It was do it now or never.
The alarm sounded and I moved toward the water, pushing myself past fear and remembering my body knew what to do. I lost my balance in the soft sand and jostling bodies. Some women ran past as I walked into the water and began my swim. Trying to stay in the moment of the experience, I took strong strokes, pulling myself in a glide through the water. Contrary to my visual view of the bouys, in the water. The first buoy seemed so far away. Pink caps bobbed around me in every direction.
I noticed a younger woman next to me starting to panic. I recognized the fear in her eyes…I don’t think that I will ever forget the look on her face. I’d been there before but had mastered it with the help of others. Now she needed the help.
Everyone around me stopped to help her. The rescue canoe arrived quickly on my right side and the rescuer threw the life vest to me. I threw it to the young woman and made certain she was safe before continuing, but my rhythm was now off. My shoulders had tightened up and so had the wet suit. It was hard to regain my momentum. When I reached the first buoy I asked the lifeguard to unzip the wet suit. The gap would create drag and make the swim more difficult, but I had no choice. My shoulders and arms felt bound by it.
I rested for a few seconds and I pushed off toward the next buoy. I felt water rush into the suit but trusted my body to perform. “One buoy at a time!” I could here Carolyn shouting those words in my head.
I began to tire. With one buoy to go, I rolled over and resorted to the old reliable backstroke. I reached back to grab the water and pull with all I had. I could rest on the bike. That was my logic.
As I hit the shore and stumbled out, I thought I might faint. My heart beat in double-time staccato, my shoulders burned from effort and my wet suit gaped open. My legs felt like concrete pillars. However, I knew that the worst was over. I’d conquered the open water swim and everything else would be like coasting downhill.
The Bike: 19 miles for No. 19
After the grueling physical and emotional swim leg of the race, I felt I could ride forever. A scenic combination of pristine farmland and unspooling highway provided a calming sensibility as my legs pumped rhythmically. Along the course, people held signs and shouted words of encouragement. “Way to go Iron Girls! Way to go No. 19!” That’s my number, I realized. It’s amazing how such a small thing – someone cheering you forward—can add a boost of energy to flagging muscles.
The Run
My feet never touched the ground. I was on a high of adrenaline, determination, and exertion. All those miles of running at Stone Mountain had finally paid off. My body was doing what it knew to do and my mind kept in perfect step with it.
Each competitor had an age marker written on their calves, so you could look down and see the age of the person you were passing or who had just passed you. It’s tempting to let yourself fall into competition with those around you, letting your own accomplishments be measured against those of your peers. But I reminded myself that I was in competition with no one but myself. “To complete, not compete” and to be proud of my improvements for what they meant to me alone. “Stay focused Sherry,” I told myself. “You’re almost done.” Some of the same people that swam past me, many of them younger, had slowed down during the run. It’s hard not to give in to the pain near the finish, but I wouldn’t let myself. I began a mantra to keep my feet moving: “Pace yourself Blackshear, you’re a winner.”
It’s a wrap
Before I knew it I heard a voice call out, “Sherry Blackshear, No. 19, is now an Iron Girl!” I had crossed the finished line nearly without realizing it.
It’s still sinking in that I finished the race. The resilience and strength that it took to compete made my anticipated fear seem a small price to pay, and an important hurdle to cross. The mindset and discipline of an athlete should be respected because it is hard won every training day, and through each moment of competition.
Training and participating in the Iron Girl was not easy. The cost in time, sweat, a little blood and a few dollars was repaid many times over at the end. Next stop for me is fresh training with Lisa and Carolyn, with a new goal to complete an upcoming marathon in Atlanta. I get tired just thinking about it. But I know my body can do what my mind allows.