And so, I pushed aside the anxiety and decided that instead of my unsuccessful day continuing, that it would turn around with this race, and I'd end thinking that my broken bed and sink were no real issue. Good plan, yeah? As you probably know, that didn't happen. My bike got a flat tyre not even half way into the bike leg and I ended up walking back to the transition point, fighting back the shame that comes with giving in.
As I got to the entrance to the arena, an official called out to me and asked if I was okay. I explained the problem, and his response was simple, and cheery - "oh well, there's still the run!" He didn't seem to think I'd failed, and so heading to the bike racks, I was determined to shake off the frustration.
The run was great. 3km took me 20minutes, which is faster than how long it normally takes me, so that was exciting! I don't need to give you a race recap, though.
Here's the thing, my friends... Saturday was not my best race. It was my worst race yet because for the first time, I was fighting shame the whole way. There were valid reasons to give in. Yet, I think it might have been a successful race, because I crossed the finish line. Sometimes that's all you can do.
Beat the odds, cross the finish line, and then cheer your friends on as they finish their race, because isn't that what we're all doing? We're all fighting towards this finishing line that feels so far away, and against all odds, we want to get to it.
On Saturday, I became a triathlete.
Never again.
But so worth it.