Courage

Courage (noun): The quality of mind that enables one to face danger with confidence, resolution, and firm control of oneself; bravery. -American Heritage Dictionary

What do we consider a couragous act? Why do we value courage? What exactly is courage and how do we get to the essence of it anyway? How do we define courage within ourselves? I have never viewed myself as a courageous person. I have endured pain and disappointments. I have lost loved ones and moved to new cities alone. I have embraced challenges socially and pushed myself academically beyond what I thought I was capable of. But I have never climbed mountains or scaled steep rocks. I have never been sky diving or deep sea diving. I never enjoyed my dad taking me out in his latest sporty convertible, standing on the gas pedal until the wind blew all the tears from my eyes. I like rollercoasters, but I am always convinced I take my life in my hands when I get on one. No, I am not courageous.

But this sport of triathlon has caused me to consider a deeper definition of the word. Maybe courage doesn't always involve "danger", but rather doubt? I am always full of self doubt entering a race. That is why I continue to go back to the starting line. Time and time again, I find myself at a race start questioning my motive for being there. Saturday was a meager little CLub race at Glorietta Bay. There I stood on the shore of that disgusting water wondering why I had gotten out of bed at 4:45 am to tortue myself with the nagging questions. "Why am I here? I love to workout, why do I feel like I need to race? What if I drown? Or, worse, what if they have to pull me into the kayak and drag me back to shore? What if I get some disgusting communicable disease from this sess pit? What if I crash on the bike?" The list goes on and on.

The race was only a 1500 swim, 40 K bike and 10 K run. 6:30 start was pushed a little late and I was worried about the heat that would ensue in the hours following. The women went 2 minutes behind the men. I met some woman on the shore and we chatted about how much she loved this new-found sport. When I told her I hated the swim and was so terrible in the water, she said she was surprised because I "look like a swimmer". Not sure what that means exactly, but she eased my mood a little bit and then we were off. There was a lot of clawing and kicking for so few of us, maybe 30, at most. I started easy, wanting to conserve some energy and trying to find some air that seemed to be lost among my hyperventelation. The water wasn't cold, it just took my breath away when I realized I was really moving forward with this after all. I found the words to a kids' song in my mind and it clamed me for half a minute. Then the words to an old worship song were echoing in my brain, "Over all the earth, You reign on high, every mountain stream, every sunset sky. But my one request, Lord my only aim, is that You reign in me again...." It sounds corny, but it helped emmensely to know that there is Something bigger than I am....Someone greater than this crazy event who cares for me and loves me. So, I continued on with the lyrics, all the while being pulled at and kicked in the face. I decided I need to pick up the pace and get away from the floundering, splashing pack. And then I was all alone. Far behind the men (though I passed a few), behind the lead women, but strangely out in front of some other women. It was kind of peaceful in an erie way. Normally I am panicked to be all alone, but somehow I was comforted by the beauty of the sunrise on the water (smelly as it was) and the fact that I had mustered up some self-confidence to know that I could go solo and be okay.

The swim went totally smoothly. If one were to trace my route, I think I hugged the bouies perfectly all the way around, a victory in and of itself, considering the fact I swam an extra 200 yards, give or take, last time I did this course. This time I didn't follow anyone else's feet and I made it right around where I needed to be. The bike was harder in the wind and heat. The first loop felt okay, though I was passed by all the men I had passed in the water and then a few women, too. I still cannot drink or eat while riding, so I had to stop any time I wanted water and Gu, 4 times, I think. This is pathetic and I need to practice this, obviously. I was grateful to get off the bike and find my running legs, though by now, the sun was searing through me. I literally got into the transition area, ate a few electrolyte Jelly Bellies (I forgot to take thermolytes) and was off and running.

Those first steps were murder. The sun was so hot and my legs were so tight, I may have stopped if hubby and little people were not there cheering for me. All I could think was, "I don't need this. Why do I care? I don't have to finish this...this sucks. I hate this sport..."but there was the fam and I thought quitting would hurt more than anything that could happen in the next 6. 2 miles. I decided to try to keep the guy in the white hat several paces ahead of me in my sight. I knew I would not be able to catch him, but if I could see him, I would know I was maintaining the pace. I couldn't shake the negativity, however. The thought that continued to plague me was the fact that I would be out running for a minimum of 45 minutes. 45 minutes! That seemed like an eternity. I decided instead to think about the course ahead. I had just run the 15 K down here on the Fourth of July, I knew the course well. It seemed like a long way until the turnaround where the water station was. I was dreaming of the water. "Lord reign in me, reign in Your power, over all my dreams in my darkest hour. You are the Lord, over all I am, so won't you reign in me again."

I made it to the turnaround and saw my friend Tom coming back already. I felt like death. I stopped to pour 3 cups of water over my head and instantly felt better. It cooled me to the core and it was like heaven. I picked up my sorry pace, not even sure what it was, but I knew I was slow. I began to pick people off. The woman in front of me had just taken a Gu and I half expected her to take off like a light, but I could see she was suffering. I offered her an encouraging word as I went by her. Then I passed the man she had been running with on the way out. I passed another man who said, "Hey, slow down..." I smiled and told him to jump on the pace. Then I saw white hat guy with 2 miles to go. I was closing in on him and then I actually passed him. He was as surprised as I was and said, " Hey, where did you come from?" I said, "I've been chasing you this whole time." He shouted after me, "Now it's my turn.." and he picked up the pace. I could hear his breath and feel his pounding feet behind me. I picked it up again, just to mess with him a little bit. He gave up almost immediately and I was off toward home. The thought of the finish was not working for me. It was trying to retrieve the words from the song I knew so long ago that kept my mind busy..."Over every thought, over every word, may my life reflect, the beauty of my Lord, cause you mean more to me, than any earthly thing, won't you reign in me again..."

Then, there were my little people, playing in the fountain in front of the Coronado Community Center. The sun was baking my brain, I felt a little delirious. My boy came running out after me, right in the line of fire, but was snatched up by hubs. I ran by and crossed the finish line and all I wanted was to get back in that nasty water. I am not sure of the times or splits or any of the details. I didn't even wear a watch. I didn't care. I had another "race" I completed. Courage? I have a little. I faced my demons with resolve and self-control. It may not have been dangerous, but it was doubtful for sure. I wanted to quit the whole way, but a little something in me just would not let me. I would like to think it was a teeny spark of courage. I may never throw myself off a cliff, but I found a little something in me that I never knew was there.