White Lake, How I'll Miss You

In the spirit of homages, I will use this blog entry to honor the White Lake Half-Ironman triathlon, with which I have had a love-hate relationship these last few years. This morning, I finally admitted to myself that since I'm barely ready to run my first mile after my ITBS flare-up, there is no way I can be ready to run 13.1 miles in only six weeks. So, I dropped out of the race.

Considering I've said "I'm never doing that again!" after each of my previous four finishes, you would think I wouldn't be too upset about this. However, I'm bummed. To me, White Lake represents hanging in there when times are tough. My first race, back in 2003, had record-breaking temperatures and I wound up getting fluids by IV after the race. The second year wasn't much better, and I again suffered dehydration and cramps. The third year, it was so cold that I lost feeling in my hands and feet during the swim. Last year, the conditions were OK, but the weight I'd gained made it a challenge.

To honor my favorite/least favorite race, I will leave you with the finish line shot of my first White Lake triathlon and a snippet from that year's race report. Perhaps I'll be back another time....

Miles 11 and 12 were the worst -- out on the beating hot shoulder of the highway, most racers already off the course, headache, nausea.... soul-searching time. That's when I remembered "swim, bike, run, FINISH." I was already 45 minutes beyond my estimated finish time (which was nothing to be impressed about to start with!) and I really didn't care. All that mattered was crossing the finish line. I understood – at some point, it's not about racing anymore and having a certain finish time. It's about sticking with something hard, pushing your body to its limits, and discovering how strong you are.