#53, You Amaze Me!

Early in the ride, I saw her, out in front of me. She stood out for two reasons; firstly, she was on a pink bike, secondly (and I am partially ashamed to admit this) she was a reasonably heavy-set woman in amongst a myriad of more athletically-built individuals. I admit it, I judged her.

We had just completed a two kilometre swim and were in the early stages of a 90 kilometre ride that preceded a 21 kilometre run which made up the third part of the event known as The Great White North Triathlon (GWN). Still shedding lake water we had swapped paddling for pedalling and were working our legs like pistons as we made our way along the highway. My initial thought was, "gee, she beat me out of the water" (ah, Ego - thanks for coming along - the event wouldn't be the same without you).

I had her in my sights and began to gain ground on her. As I got closer I could see her race number - #53. I caught up to her and passed her, egotistically thinking to myself; “Well, at least I can pass one person on the bike.” Not being as strong a cyclist as I’d like to be, I generally get passed, on the bike leg, by what seems to me like half the entrants of the GWN, so I took extra perverse delight in passing at least SOMEONE on the bike portion.

The delight was short-lived however, as about 5k later, #53 passed me. And so it began, the pedal-powered leap-frogging; I pass #53, #53 passes me, back and forth, back and forth. At one point she cheerily declared how much fun she was having passing me and having me pass her. I grumbled that I was not enjoying it as much (my Ego was taking it as a personal affront).

To bolster itself up, my Ego began saying things like – “once we get to Heartbreak Hill, we’ll leave her behind. She weights about 60 lbs more than you do, physics must be on your side; you must be able to climb more easily than she can. Once we turn into the head wind, you’ll be faster than she’ll be.”

Though I did beat her up the hill (after she flew past me down the hill – physics proving right for once on the ride) she did manage to pass me while we rode into the headwind; thus, pummelling my Ego into little bits leaving it broken and bloody somewhere around the 75k mark; the Universe once again attempting to teach me the danger of hubris.

So with my legs and Ego smarting, I kept pumping the pedals towards the ever closer end of the bike leg while watching the ever shrinking form of #53. It occurred to me that though her ability to beat me annoyed me, I had to admire her. She was considerably heavier than the average competitor and yet, there she was, working hard and enjoying herself. When I weighed by heaviest about 7 years ago (about 40 pounds more than I do now) I wouldn’t have considered taking on a Half-Iron Triathlon – heck I wouldn’t consider putting on a bathing suit.

She became both my nemesis and my inspiration. She was awesome.

I passed her, for the last time, soon after I started the run. I saw her a couple of times during the run (as the run course doubles back on itself three times) and cheered her on; “Way to be 53!”

I had a reasonable run, and in the end I had had a respectable race despite the fact that my training had been as focused as a racoon in a room full of shiny objects (in other words – all over the place – sporadic and undisciplined).

I waited around for #53 to finish; for some reason I wanted to cheer her across the finish line. When she had finished, we hugged and went our separate ways.

I was both humbled and bolstered by meeting #53. No doubt she had to work harder than I did, not only on race day but also with all the sweat equity she put into her training. She didn’t let her size be any sort of limiter on what she could accomplish. For that reason, and because she kicked my butt during the ride, I just have to say: #53, you amaze me!