And so my obsession begins...

After I completed my first triathlon, I took a couple weeks off and then hopped on the horse again. I had my sights set on Chicago. I signed up for Chicago around the same time I signed up for Naperville. I signed up for the sprint, but told myself I would do the Olympic--1 mile swim, 24 mile bike, 6 mile run--(Chad had put it into my head that I would be ready for an Oly). After Naperville, I didn't have it in my heart to do the Oly--I wasn't ready nor worthy of it. So the training continued. I picked up a new training plan, and worked on my swim A LOT. If that is what you can call it. My personal thank you goes to Chad right now for the endless hours spent in Lake Michigan simply helping me walk over the rocks and seaweed at Ohio Street Beach. You may ask, "Well did you actually swim there?" Ha...not until about my 5th time out there. I spent most of my time discovering and trying to get over my HUGE fear of open water. This fear paralyzed me quite a few times in the middle of my quarter mile swim to the first buoy. I would stand, cry, freeze, stop breathing, and search for Chad as he swam laps around me. For some reason anything in the lake that didn't belong there--garbage, rocks, drain pipes, bottles--scared the sh*t out of me. Swimming over the stuff was even impossible. I knew I had to get over this, as the Chicago tri was in Monroe Harbor, where you cannot touch the bottom at all, but yet you can see every damn thing at the bottom (which included wooden carts, bottles, cans, phones, and LOTS of rocks and seaweed). So thanks Chad for letting me swim 10 yards, stop, then keep going, only to stop again 10 yards later.

I spent my summer before Chicago drafting behind Chad training back and forth on the lake path on my bike. I spent many a miles alone plugging along and discovering that though I lacked a car, I did not lack road rage. Please do not walk 4 across on the lake path, and please do not let your children wonder away from you...you may hear me yelling at you. I spent days of watching Kona 2007 and crying tears of joy over how people can complete such a great feat, and I spent the rest of my summer watching Chad tirelessly prepare for his own Kona--the Madison Ironman in September. Training with Chad allowed me to tap into a side of me I never thought I had, and he continually taught me different training techniques, and how to better improve myself. Little did he, my family, my friends, or I know that this journey was in fact changing and improving me as a person, but all of that mushy stuff will come later in this blog. I ran a lot as well. I came to LOVE running and even ran with a Fleet Feet group every Tuesday after work. I began liking the group training. I used to hate running, but running out doors became my new affinity, and I began to loathe running on a treadmill. Nothing made me happier than running on the lake with the skyline of Chicago in front of me on a warm (but not too warm) sunny day. Chad kept telling me that ironman was in my future. I laughed.

A couple weeks before Chicago, I broke down. I was burned out. I was cashed. I was done. I hated triathlons. I would call Brian and mostly Chad crying and wondering "Can I do this?" The getting home at 9pm every night after workout out and a full day of work was killing me. I was always tired, never had time for myself that didn't include running, biking or swimming, and all I wanted to do was, well...NOTHING for once. I was ready to throw my bike into the lake and call it quits. At this point, my social life consisted of hanging out with the strangers at my gym and those I got to know in my DePaul Thursday spin class. I rarely went out, which was no big deal since drinking and partying were so far from my priorities. Training had become my priority, my love, my entertainment, and my fun. It was my world. I was feeling lonely, though. How much can one really train alone and keep the fire burning? It is a one man sport, but luckily I was never alone, and had people around me who believed in me and convinced me to keep going. So that is what I did.

Chicago came as quickly as Naperville did. I met Chad at his house at 3:15am on August 24th so we could ride down to T1 at Monroe Harbor together. It was very amusing to ride my bike down the street as the bars were letting out. I smiled at the fact that these people were going to go home and go to bed with memories of the booze infested night, and I was off to do a triathlon. My neighbors were actually still up and drinking on their front stoop when I stepped out with my morning breakfast ritual--oatmeal with banana mushed in it, and yogurt. When I went back in the house to change and walked back out in my tri gear, one said, "Are you kidding? You really are racing? You are crazy!" I left the house with my drunk neighbors clapping and wishing me luck.

I found myself in the 4th wave, starting at 6:15am. I was very happy to be at the beginning of the heap of 8,000 racers. I was not looking forward to getting swam over and punched and/or kicked in the face; thus my placement kind of helped avoid that. I took a last minute bathroom stop, and ran into my position. I hugged and kissed Brian and hugged Chad and gave him the "This is amazing and thank you, and I cannot believe I am here" eye, and walked into my respective wave. The swim began, but again I was reminded that I needed to train even more. I was okay at first, but then the anxiety kicked in. I couldn't breathe, my goggles kept falling off, filling with water, and I had to keep stopping to fix them. I felt paralyzed as I looked a full half mile to the finish. It looked like an eternity away, but I knew that giving up was NEVER an option, so I kept plugging along. I was lucky enough to have my cousin and Brian walking the ENTIRE swim with me, yelling "You can do it!" and "I love you come on!" and "You are awesome sweetheart." I don't think Brian and Justin know how much that meant to me, and how I will never forget that. I don't think I would have had any courage left at certain points if it weren't for them. I finally finished the swim (if you can call what I was doing swimming) after 27 minutes....27....11 minutes longer than my first triathlon. I climbed up the stairs and ran the brutal uncovered concrete path to my bike. My transition this time only took me 2:15--Thank you lace locks! I headed out onto lakeshore drive for the bike, and all I have to say is damn it Chicago fix the damn potholes on Lake Shore Drive! The bike went well...I finished in 48 minutes, which was 2 minutes quicker than my first triathlon. I enjoyed watching all of the beautiful bikes go by, and was jealous that I was stuck in one upright position. I think that is when I realized "I need a new bike." T2 took me 1:15, and I took off running. The run itself went well, but it was quiet. There weren't as many people cheering, but I was sure to keep cheering everyone else on. I stuck my hand out for high fives on the way back up north back from the 1.5 miles going south, and passed people telling them they were amazing. I had to pay it forward. The run was a tease most of the way since you could hear the finish line from a far distance, but it was a good reminder that I was almost there. I crossed the finish line, and smiled and was proud, and of course cried, but I had no one to celebrate with. My family was lost because they didn't expect me to finish as quickly as I did. I completed the race in 1:51, 3 minutes slower than my first race, BUT my swim was 11 minute slower, meaning I picked up the slack elsewhere. I was still very happy just to finish.

I finally found my family, and we were able to go watch some of the other swimmers and runners. I could watch forever. I loved watching the pros who made swimming look magical and so easy. I also loved watching those who looked like me--struggling, but still going. I cheered on everyone, and I even stayed behind with Brian and Justin to cheer on the VERY last 2 swimmers. Most of the crowd left the break wall already, but again, I had to pay it forward, so I stayed to tell them they were doing it.

After Chicago, I knew I craved more. I wanted to race, to push myself further, and to do that Oly. What I didn't know until I stepped back was that I was a new person. I was changed. My post season with my coach Kevin and my unconditional love of pushing myself into the ground would reveal my willingness to challenge myself and the person I used to be. After Chicago, I knew 2009 would be a big year, and as far as it looks and is going, it indeed will be.