Fears

Under five weeks to go until Poconos 70.3, and I’m scared. Of everything.

I’m afraid of fish. Much as I’ve started to appreciate the open-water swims I’ve been doing, I don’t like sharing lakes and rivers with other creatures. I’d say they probably feel the same way about me, but it’s more likely they see me as comic relief. To the lakes’ natural inhabitants, I am “Jersey Shore.” I was in Lake Nockamixon a few weeks ago, and I heard a buzzing when I passed a buoy. I punched it into high gear and swam as fast as I’ve ever swum in my life until the buzzing subsided. I almost swam as fast as other people, that’s how freaked I was.

I’m afraid of swimming against the current when I’m already tired. I’m afraid of being dead last in the swim. I’m afraid of using so much energy on the swim that I don’t have much left to start the bike.

On the bike, I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid of road rash. I’m afraid of broken collarbones. I’m afraid of damaging my new bike. I’m so afraid of my aero bars that I had them removed for the season. I’ll try again next year. I’m afraid of clipping out of the pedals, because I never feel stable and I have tipped over. I’m afraid of grabbing my water bottle. I’m absolutely terrified of the concept of a bottle exchange. I’m afraid of climbing large hills. I’m also afraid of descending them. I’m afraid of debris on the road. I’m afraid of other riders, and also cars and pedestrians. I’m afraid of getting a flat that will take me so long to repair that I won’t finish the event before the time cutoff.

I’m afraid I’ll screw up the transition areas so that when I finish the bike and get to T2, my running shoes aren’t there. I’m afraid that all of the joints that have given me problems, particularly ankles, knees and hips will act up at once, or that one will be so severe I won’t be able to continue. I’m afraid of chafing. I’m afraid that I’ll be so tired that I’ll have to walk the entire half marathon at too slow a pace to make the time cutoff. I’m afraid of the hill at mile 8. I’m afraid my nutrition plan isn’t good enough, leading to an unrecoverable bonk.

I’m afraid of bears. I hadn’t even considered this until my training camp, when someone told me he saw one.

I’m afraid I’m undertrained. I’m afraid I’ll look fat in my tri suit.

I’m afraid of the weather. There’s the Big Obvious Problem, though thunderstorms hopefully are not as likely on October 2. But I’m afraid of rain on the bike, and I’m really afraid of wind. I’m afraid it will be too hot. I’m afraid it will be too cold.

By confronting all of these fears and doing the race anyway, you might think I’m brave. And maybe I am, but that’s only because I have an inspiration. My sister has to get in the car every week to have poisons pumped into her veins, knowing full well they will leave her feeling horribly nauseated and fatigued. She’s had to deal with surgeries and nasty needles and rooms full of students examining her body. Over and over and over again, she has to sit in rooms to wait to hear test results that determine how hard her road is going forward. Through it all, she is a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and teacher, and an amazing one. Each day she looks into the eyes of the people who love her and are terrified for her, and she is brave for them. From the time I was born, she’s been my hero. I always knew she had it in her to be the woman she is today.

So I’ll manage all of the fears above, because, really, they’re little (except, maybe, if I actually encounter a bear). But if you want to throw a “good luck” my way, I’ll take it.