On Becoming a Runner

When I arrived back home after the Kuparisaari Triathlon, I hit the ground running, literally.

I am registered for the Detroit Free Press Half Marathon on October 16, 2011, and I needed to get into a serious training schedule.  I met up with my amazing running partner, Layla, to discuss our strategy and plan our training calendar.

We planned our long runs for Monday after work. Our short runs for Wednesday and Friday mornings before work, and our cross-trains for Thursday and Sunday on our own time. Add stretch and strength day on Tuesday, and an additional strength workout on Friday, and I got myself so scheduled out I was excited, but nervous.

I was especially apprehensive about the early morning runs on Wednesday and Friday. I am not a natural morning person and the thought of getting a run in before work was daunting.

But, I love them! Breathing in the fresh morning air and watching the world awaken with the sun is so spectacular. I still have to pry myself out of bed when the alarm goes off. And getting up before it's light out is truly unappealing. But once I awaken from the early morning stupor, I'm so glad I did.

My running schedule hasn't only affected me physically. I am much more organized with my time and my meals. Running in the morning invigorates me for the rest of the day and I feel more productive both at work and at home.

My favorite thing about running is being able to see significant progress from day to day and week to week. I still vividly remember the day I went out to run my first one miler and almost died.  Now I am up to 8 miles and can still feel good afterwards. My pace has gone from 12 minute miles to 10s for my long runs, and even 9s now for my shorter runs. It is so rewarding to see those measurable improvements each week.

Quite often I am struck with how God made our bodies so incredibly adaptable and durable. It only takes watching a couple clips from the Ironman Championships to realize that our bodies can be trained to accomplish almost anything, if we have the dedication and mind to achieve it.

Actually, it only takes me remembering the experience of that one mile run a few short months ago to see it too.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made, indeed.

The Kuparisaari Triathlon

On August 14, I raced in the Kuparisaari Triathlon ("The Koop") in upper Michigan.

I was the swimmer in the relay team, with Judy Ramos on the bike (56 miles):

 and Kimberly Shin as the runner (13.1 miles):

Although I did not meet my personal goal time, I was happy to finish my first official 1.2 mile swim.

In the pink cap in the back - that's me!

Heading out to the first buoy

Home stretch to the shore

Smiling at my awesome personal cheering section 

Relay hand-off from swimmer to biker

I had a wonderful weekend with great friends, lots of laughs, and high-spirited cheering. Thank you to everyone who made this weekend such a blast!

Winners of the Women's Relay - that's us!

Koop Tri Racers
John Yoon and Israel Ramos (far left) did the full triathlon themselves. Inspirations to us all!
Myra Moyryla (not pictured), Rob Gordon (in yellow), and Sikhu Hlatshwayo (third from right) also took part as a Mixed Relay Team.

Winner of a raffle prize! =)

David was able to be there, too, and he was a huge support to all of us. He took a ton of pictures and video throughout the race, drove us around to cheer for our teammates, and supported us with food and encouraging words. A big 'thank you' to Amy (photographer) and Alana (race volunteer) as well - good friends and a wonderful support.

Finally, here is a link to the video compilation of the race, edited by Israel & Judy Ramos.

Koop 2011: Our Journey to the Finish!

Hope you enjoy! It was certainly a race to remember.

Next up:
Detroit Half-Marathon - October 16, 2011. I'm back to land training and enjoying it immensely.
More on that later. =)

Traveling Home

On our way home after the reunion, David and I stopped in Houghton, MI to spend the weekend with our friends, the Ramoses. They live on the Keweenaw peninsula, the northernmost area of Michigan, and it is beautiful. We enjoyed hiking near Copper Harbor, finding waterfalls and 500 year-old trees, and seeing Lake Superior from scenic vantage points.

On Sunday we had a hard-core training day involving biking, running and swimming. Then on Monday, as a superb ending to a fabulous long weekend, Judy took me for a trail run along the beautiful Hungarian Falls. To think places like this exist in Michigan.

Thanks for a wonderful time in upper Michigan, Judy and Israel!

One more week and we'll be back to represent Team Revolution at the Great Northern Race - the Kuparisaari (half iron distance) Triathlon. 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and 13.1 mile run. Here we come.

Tread on Trafficking: The Conclusion

Tread on Trafficking was a campaign designed by organization Love146.

Designed to raise awareness and funds for the cause of ending child sex slavery and exploitation, members were commissioned to track the number of miles or hours they spent exercising over the eight week period of May and June.

Well, the results are in! I officially logged 204 miles and 34 hours in that eight week period. Also within that period, I completed my first triathlon. Currently, I am training for the swim portion (1.2 miles) of a half iron-man distance triathlon in August, and a half-marathon in September.

It is a true honor to dedicate my training towards these events to all the children trapped in this terrible, sickening industry.

Now, I'm asking you to join me in this cause.  Please consider donating any amount that is feasible for you per mile or hours I've logged. 

Thanks for helping me reach my goal, and more importantly, for making a difference in the lives of children everywhere. Thank you to all those who have already given generously on their behalf.

To donate, visit: 

http://Love146.kintera.org/tread/tennille

To learn more about Love146, visit:

http://love146.org/love-story

or:

http://love146.org/about-us

Thank you for your support!

My Triathlon Story

It was a classic story-line morning.

The creek of our guest room door woke me from a seemingly sound sleep. The morning light was already shining through the windows and I groggily turned over in bed and turned the clock to see what time it was.

It was blinking 12:00.

"The power went out!" I exclaimed to my sleeping husband as I jolted out of bed.

He bolted up even faster. "What!?" "Oh my goodness."

"What time is it!?"

"I don't know!"

"Oh my goodness!"

"Where's a watch!?" "Where's your cell phone!?"

"I don't know!"

We scrambled around the room looking for something, anything, that would tell us the time. We had nothing. As David frantically scoured the room for his glasses, I went straight to the bathroom in an adrenaline rush with one thing on my mind, "Get ready!"

Finally, David made it downstairs and back up to report, "We are so lucky. It's 6:00."

Sigh of relief.

We had a half hour to get our things together and head out to Hawk Island, the location of the sprint triathlon.

We arrived, got registered and marked. Our ages written on our calf. Our numbers on our arms, helmet and bike. Judy and I went to find our transition stations to set up.

Hang the bike on the rack. Sunglasses in the helmet, positioned on the handlebars facing the correct position, got it! Towel laid out in front to stand on, water bottle to rinse feet with, towel to dry feet off with, shoes and socks to put on. Okay! Don't forget my running shirt and headband, and the water and gatorade to hydrate during transitions. Alright, I think I'm set!  I chit-chatted nervously with the guys whose stations were next to me.  Then off to find Judy and make our way to the waterfront.
Just in time as the loudspeaker summoned us.

The elite men (those expecting to finish the race under 60 min.) and women (under 70 min.) were sent off first.  Then men ages 29 and younger. We nervously got in line right behind. We were at the front of the crowd of women 29 and younger. And we were next. 3 - 2 - 1 - ERRRRRR

I hit my watch to start the timer as I ran across the start line and plunged into the water.

Here we go!

The swim course was approximately 100 meters out, 200 meters horizontal to shoreline, and 100 meters back in to shore. By the first buoy, or turn, I was at the back of the pack of females 29 and younger.  By mid-way through the course, the 30+ men were catching up. And I could tell. No, not because I could see them. But because I could feel them. Their aggression was panic-inducing. Apparently I was in the way of one not-so-gentleman who, as he passed me, pushed me underwater with his monstrous hand that just so happened to land straight on my back during his stroke. Thank you, sir.

Finally, I made it to the last buoy and turned to shore. It felt like an eternity. Eventually, the shore arrived, and I was again on land. I looked down at my watch, 11:something.  Ugh. I had wanted to finish that section around a minute less. I was discouraged, but I continued on with a jog up the hill to my bike, passing a couple guys on the way. Yay! =)

Take off cap and goggles. Replace with helmet and sunglasses. Rinse feet and put socks and shoes on. Hydrate. Compose self. Grab the bike, and run it to the bike entrance.

I crossed over into the bike entrance with a few other individuals. SHREEEEK "Helmet! You need a helmet! You can't ride without a helmet!" screamed the volunteer.  Startled we all looked around at each other while patting our heads. Oh good, it's not me. Get going already!

I finally made it onto my bike and started off. There's David! There's Israel! Yay, this is fun! I turned the corner and started ascending the first hill. It's not as crowded as I thought it would be on the bike course. I'm thankful. People pass me.  I push harder. I pass someone who just passed me. Huffing along, legs burning, lungs burning, a woman comes strolling by on a huge mountain bike. Are you kidding me? How in the world are you passing me on a mountain bike!? I contained myself from yelling out.
Instead, I push harder.

Five more miles, then 4, 3, 2, 1. I round a corner and see the finish line in site! There's David!  I try to wave but lose my balance and start wobbling. Okay, won't be doing that. As I cruise towards the last turn a volunteer warns, "Be careful, it's slick on this turn!" Meanwhile, I see an ambulance nearby and someone being carried off the course in a stretcher. Yes, definitely slowing down.

I hop off my bike and jog it towards my station. I look at my watch, 55:something. Yes! Faster than I'd hoped for.  Hang bike up, take off helmet and sunglasses. Put on headband and Tread of Trafficking running shirt to promote our mission. All set. Jog towards the running course. There's Israel! Wave. Look at my watch again. I get excited. I think I can totally finish in under an hour and half now. I know I can put in a solid run. I'm feeling good.

Enter running course. Here we go! My legs feel a bit like jello. Almost like they aren't attached to my body. Gotta run through it. By a half mile in, they start to feel like normal.  I know Judy is ahead of me and the running course is an "out and back", so I get excited about meeting her along the course. I start looking ahead at everyone coming my way. I start thinking everyone wearing a blue shirt is her.  I'm so excited to see her I'm ready to burst. Wait, there she is! Around the one mile mark. I look at my watch. "It's 1:06, Judy! You got this!" We high-five. Alright, time to kick it up a notch with my renewed energy. Two more miles.

A guy passes me who read my t-shirt. "My son just did a paper on sex-trafficking. Great cause!" That's right. I'm running for the children. I'm doing this for the children. I increase my pace.

A half-mile later and I reach the u-turn. I turn around for the home stretch and kick up my pace again. I'm feeling so good, almost euphoric. Everything excites me. The fact that I didn't get any leg cramps. The fact that I'm not almost dying. The fact that I just swam a fourth of a mile, and biked 10 miles, and now I only have one more mile to run. I'm having so much fun that I want to cheer for everyone I meet on the course, even those who are passing me. So I do. One guy passes me and looks at me like I'm crazy for telling him 'good job.' He finally replies, "You too. Almost there." Yes, almost there! I can hear the cheers from the finish line now. I can see it ahead through a break in the trees. Here it is!

I round the second to the last bend and see the spectators lining the course ahead. There's Israel! I wave. Here we go! I kick it up to full gear and sprint past the people ahead of me. Turning the corner, the finish line a few yards ahead, I run as hard as I can. Ahh, sweet finish line!

I cross.

Then double over.

I feel like I'm going to pass out. But I don't.

A volunteer is there ready to take the time chip off my leg whenever I'm ready. I nod.

Another hands me a medal.

And I'm done.

1:27:24

I did it.

This is for you, #146.

Tread on Trafficking

"I felt hopeless"

"I felt dead"

"I felt so alone"

"When I couldn't bear it anymore I would just cry"

These are words from children rescued from child sex slavery.

27 million are currently enslaved around the world.

2 children are sold every minute.

During the months of May and June, I will be logging the miles and hours I spend exercising for the cause of raising awareness about child sex slavery and exploitation, and raising funds to end it.

This has been an issue that has weighed heavily on my heart for the past couple of years.  When a friend forwarded me a link to Love146, and the effort they were putting on called Tread on Trafficking, I jumped at the chance to join.

The timing is perfect. I am currently training for a sprint triathlon on June 5, as well as for the swimming portion of a half iron distance triathlon on August 14 (that's 1.2 miles, folks!)  Those who followed my marathon experience know that I need outside motivation for this kind of thing. And I don't know of a more important social issue to dedicate my training to.

Please join me!

You can visit my personal donation page by clicking here, or visiting: http://Love146.kintera.org/tread/tennille

I am also part of a race team, Team Revolution, which has joined this effort. You can visit our Tread on Trafficking team page, REVOLUTION Against Child Trafficking, here.

You are welcome to join me in this effort by either joining our team as a "treader" (logging your own miles/hours and finding sponsors), or donating to the cause.  You can choose to donate with a one-time gift, or check in to see my progress and donate a given dollar amount per miles/hours I log.

Thank you for your support!

On Becoming a Triathlete

I've been attempting to start a serious training regimen for a sprint triathlon this summer. I've been pretty dormant ever since the Chicago Marathon last October and I needed something to get me out of my winter stupor. So I registered for the Hawk Island triathlon, bought an Xterra wetsuit, and kicked off my training with a run and a bike ride exactly one month ago from today. And ... that's about it. Okay, I went for one other bike ride in between then and today. It's just that ... well ... I'm sure I could come up with many different excuses. You know...  it's too cold outside. I traveled out of state this month. I've changed jobs. I'm likely anemic. I despise running. But the reality is, my level of self-discipline has plummeted and this triathlon thing just takes way more commitment than I appreciate! That's what I realized today only two miles in to my second attempt at a kick-off. Commitment. I've been pretty good at envisioning success. Every now and again in my excited, visionary state I talk to my husband about how awesome it would be to accomplish this, or how fun it would be to participate in that. I'm sure I've worn him out with my talk of big plans only to be followed by episodes of complaining about how hard it all is. But he still seems to listen to me and even once in awhile he might even buy in, with the help of friends. It was back in December of 2009 when I first talked about completing a triathlon. I was sick in bed with a migraine and my mind was whirling about all these great physical feats I wanted to do to become lean, toned, and healthy. David popped into the bedroom for a second and I blurted out excitedly, "let's do a triathlon!" He listened as I expounded on how cool it would be, and "maybe we should start training right now." "I mean, don't you think that would be so fun!?" Well, time would show that he went on to complete one that next year. And me? Well. The reasons escape me why I didn't. So I'm learning that envisioning success is one thing, and making the commitment to succeed is, um, very, very different. So here I am now, determined to accomplish this item I excitedly placed on my to-do list and then forced it to stay there by investing my hard-earned money. I suppose I know myself too well. Note to self: register for the event before I start the training. So, commitment. Here I go. I know there's a lesson in this. I'll see it when it's all over. Right?

My Marathon Story

The day began at an early 3:00 am when David's alarm went off in the Chicago South Loop hotel room on West 26th Street.  David got up to start his getting-ready-for-a-long-run morning routine.  I tried to fall back asleep, waiting for my alarm to wake me in another hour and twenty minutes.  A few moments later I checked the clock.  Fifteen minutes had passed.  I tried to snuggle with my feather pillow for just a while longer but my mind was already up and getting dressed.  I fought another thirty minutes then decided I might as well join it.

The next moments were calm and methodical. Get dressed. Pin my hair back. Sunscreen. Makeup.  Did I have everything?

Watch, check.

Sunglasses, check.

MP3 player, check.

Goo, check.

Cliff blocks, check.

Chapstick, check.

Breakfast time.  The breakfast of champions:  can of V8, peanut butter CLIF bar, banana, sip of overnight-soaked chia seeds.

Am I ready?

Okay, I'm ready.

We left the hotel at 5:15 am and hopped in the cab a hotel attendant whistled down.  We were off to Grant Park, Chicago.

There we met Ron and Lynda du Preez who had kindly picked up our registration packets for us the Friday previous.  We chatted at their parked SUV while David and I pinned our numbers on and circled our time chips around our shoe laces.  Were we ready?  Ready or not, it was time to begin walking towards the starting corrals.  But not without a pit stop at the port-a-potties along the way.

We found our places in the "regular people" corral.  There were corrals ahead of us for the elite runners who would begin the race. Within our non-elite corral, David stayed back with the 9-minute pacers while Ron, Lynda and I wove our way through the crowd to get as close as we could to the front.  Since we would be walking, and because there was a (non-enforced, we found out later) 6:30 time limit on the marathon, we wanted to ensure we were as close to the start line as possible.

It was 7:00 am. The race would begin in thirty minutes.

We downed a pack of goo. 

I drank the remaining swallow of my gatorade.

The national anthem played.

The gun sounded.

And we started forward.  Seven minutes later, we reached and crossed the start line.

And the rest of the marathon went something like this:

Mile 1:  Jogged under a bridge.  Was aghast at the numerous male runners lined up against the wall to relieve themselves.  Wishing I was free to join them. I was regretting that last chug of gatorade. Feeling great physically.  Can't believe I've hit a mile already.  

Mile 2:  Almost ran into the Starbucks along the course to use the bathroom.  Saw a line of runners already there.  Nevermind. 

Mile 3:  Obsessing about a port-a-potty.  Sent Ron to go scouting.  Came back with the news it would only be .25 miles until the first official potty-stop along the route.  Used it, got behind approximately 4 minutes but feeling like a new person.

Mile 4:  Noticed we were keeping up with the man in a polar bear outfit.

Mile 5:  Obsessing over gaining back my lost time is helping ease my nerves. The time and miles seem to be going by fast.

Mile 6:  Read "toenails are over-rated" on a spectator sign.  Truly loving the cheers.

Mile 7: Saw a man running with a fake leg. Was inspired.

Mile 8:  Walked/jogged through a park where Ron saw women runners squatting behind small bushes that didn't hide them very well.

Mile 9:  Said a sad goodbye to Ron and Lynda, who sent me on ahead of them as Lynda's leg was beginning to hurt.  (They did go on to finish!)

Mile 10:  Was serenaded by Elvis Presley.

Mile 11:  Feeling really good.  Thinking about how I am in the CHICAGO marathon!  Wow! This just might be one of my favorite days of my life.

Mile 12:  Only twelve?  Come on, where is that halfway mark?

Mile 13:  Aaah... Halfway!  Wait... HALFWAY! Mercy...

Mile 14:  Legs and feet are starting to hurt more than just slightly and the temperature is getting up there. I put on my MP3 player. Ate a CLIF block.

Mile 15: I am doubting.  Then talk myself out of it.  Come on, I've walked 16 miles in training.  I can at least make it to 16 again.

Mile 16:  Overwhelmed with the idea of another 10 miles.  Where is Ron and Lynda?  I need them.  I don't know if I can do this anymore.  20.  I can make it to 20 miles.  At least 20 miles. 

Mile 17:  This stinks.  It's hot.  I'm achy. I'm hungry.  I down half a CLIF bar.

Mile 18:  My legs hurt from hips to toes.  Passed a woman limping.  I wanted to tell her "It's not worth it.  Don't worry.  You can quit. It's not worth it."  Decided I had better not.

Mile 19:  This is the worst day of my entire life. Ate another CLIF block.

Mile 20:  I can do six more.  Just two more loops on the route around my house.  Two more 3-mile loops.

Mile 21:  Passed a woman crying.  Man had his arm around her.  He told her "you can do this.  You are almost there."  Another woman pitched in "you're almost there, don't quit now." Part of me wanted to encourage her too, and part of me said "almost there?  There's five more miles of this torture!!"  I kept quiet.

Mile 22:  My legs ache.  My feet ache.  It's all I can do to keep a 15 minute mile pace. It must be at least 100 degrees out here! Ate another CLIF block.

Mile 23:  Now I'm feeling like I'm almost there.  Until I see a sign that says, "Only another 5k!"  Mercy... that doesn't help. Downed a goo pack.

Mile 24:  Pain, pain, pain.  Start obsessing over my finish time.  Am cutting it too close.

Mile 25:  I gotta push through the pain if I'm going to make it under 6:30.  I grit my teeth and start jogging.  It feels good to use different muscles but the heat and energy-exertion warms me to near heat-stroke feeling levels.  Ouch! It hurt to go back to walking.

Mile 26:  Can it be!??!  I start running.  Nothing can stop me now.

Mile 26.01:  I stop.  Maybe I should wait a little longer before "sprinting" to the end.

Mile 26.1:  Nothing can stop me now!

Mile 26.2:  Oh sweet finish line!

I raise my hands as I cross, a big smile on my face.  6:28.

And then:  the most anti-climactic moment I could think of.

It was over.

I was on the other side of the finish line.

With a bunch of strangers.

And aching hips. thighs. calves. ankles. arches. toes.

Wondering, why did I just do that?

And (sorry), truthfully (really sorry), at that moment (really, really sorry to everyone who has run a marathon and found it to be wonderful and exciting, and everyone else who has imagined feelings of grandeur thinking about training and running your own marathon and crossing that beautiful finish line) I actually thought these exact words: "that was dumb."

My only consolation?  Meru.  At least I "ran" for Meru.

P.S. I have to say that in the days following, I look back and am glad. Glad that I finished the Chicago Marathon, one of the largest marathons in the world with arguably the best crowd of spectators in the world. 40,000 runners.  Blistering 90 degree heat.  And the "date to motivate" 10-10-10.  Did you know that I'm in the less than 1% of the population who has completed a marathon!?  Does it sound like I'm trying to talk myself into excitement? =)

Next year?  I'll be your cheerleader.

After I run the Leadville 100 that is. ;)

Kidding.

But, I am staying inspired by Born to Run.

This might, unfortunately, be addicting. 

A Marathon on a Mission

David and I are participating in the Chicago Marathon on October 10!  Because this is our first marathon, we are dedicating this milestone to help victims of HIV/AIDS in Kenya. We are running as members of Team Revolution, which is sponsored by CAMPUS. 

Here’s how you can partner with us to help victims of HIV/AIDS in Kenya:

Consider one of the below sponsorship opportunities:

1. Pledge per mile (26.2 miles)

     Platinum Sponsor: $3/mile ($78)

     Gold Sponsor: $2/mile ($52)

     Silver Sponsor:  $1/mile ($26)

     Bronze Sponsor: $.50/mile ($13)

2.  Goal Sponsor:  $100 for reaching personal goal

      David:  Under 4.5 hours

      Tennille:  Under 6.5 hours

3.  Record Sponsor: $250 for reaching personal record

      David:  Under 4 hours  

4.  General – Just for finishing

5.  Other – Make your own

All donations are tax-deductible. Checks may be made payable to:

CAMPUS

Memo:  Meru Project

Please mail donations to:

13153 Hitching Post Rd

DeWitt, MI 48820

For more information on the project and profiles of people we are helping, go to:

www.marathoning4meru.blogspot.com

Please pray for us as we continue to train and finally complete this marathon, for health and safety, and also please pray for this project, that we may be able to make a difference in the lives of families battling with the affects of HIV/AIDS.  This project is what is giving me the extra motivation to make it through this ... unnerving ... challenge ahead of me! =)

Facing Fears

On July 11, 2010 I participated in my first triathlon. I was on a team with two other girls, and my portion was the swimming. I started the race with a half-mile swim; Judy Ramos followed with biking 12 miles, and Kimmy Shin finished by running 3.1 miles. We finished in one hour and forty-five minutes.David also participated in an Olympic distance triathlon at the same time, completing the biking portion of 24 miles. Israel Ramos, Judy’s husband, swam one mile, and John Yoon finished with a 6.2 mile run.

Although I first had the idea of doing a triathlon last December (my plan is to complete a full triathlon on my own next year), I’ve secretly been terrified of swimming in open water. This fear had its birth seven years ago when I witnessed a terrifying triathlon put on by Union College. It really wasn’t a complete failure; the biking and running courses were fine as far as I can remember. I volunteered at the water table and enjoyed the experience. But I have never rid myself of the images of the swim. No doubt my memory of it has been exaggerated over the years, but this is what is captured in my mind:

The course was simple; starting on the shore, the swimmers would run into the water and swim out 1/8 mile along a buoy line, then turn back for another 1/8 miles stretch to shore. But the water was choppy with high, white-capped waves. At the sound of the horn, the swimmers ran full speed ahead, lunging into the water. With the terrible waves and amidst the extra churning from kicks and strokes, handfuls of people started panicking and calling for help. Lifeguards ran out and help from kayakers lining the course was needed in seconds. I remember watching one particular teammate of a faculty team. We had swum alongside each other in the college pool many times. He made it about halfway down the first stretch when I noticed him struggling. He was gasping for air. He finally made it to the outside of the crowd of swimmers and raised his hand for help. A lifeguard threw him a flotation device and then slowly pulled him onto shore. He was gasping. He was ashamed. His teammates could not hide their frustration as the race was over for them now, too. And they weren’t the only ones.

Images of this poor man and the terrible, frothy water kept floating through my mind as I imagined myself doing a 1/2-mile swim. What had I gotten myself into now? Thoughts of bailing on my teammates surfaced. But I was the one that talked them into it! I tried to bury my fear under thoughts of this being a good opportunity to conquer them. This is good for me. This is good for me.

The night before the race my stomach churned. What was the weather going to be like? Was there wind in the forecast? What was the course like? Will they cancel the swim portion if the water is choppy? What if I can’t finish? What if I get kicked in the head? What if some water beast grabs me and pulls me under? Okay, I know I got a little carried away, but my fear was becoming more and more irrational.

Sunday morning arrived and we awoke at 4:45am. We got to the registration table by 6:45, the race was about to begin at 7:30. I had no time to sit around and worry now. I got suited up with an Xterra wetsuit and we oriented ourselves to the transition areas. The swimmers were given color coordinated swim caps depending on their age and gender, and I soon realized that I was the only green capped woman not yet in the water and waiting by the start line, located a number of yards out from the shoreline in the water. Suddenly, I heard the announcer behind me “sprint distance females, 30 seconds!” That was me!

With no time to psych myself up, or out, I scrambled into the water and rushed to the start line, just as the horn sounded. Oh no! But wait, my time chip was strapped around my left ankle, and I felt it becoming loose in the water. I was the last green cap in line so I knew I had a second or two before crossing the start line. Worried the time chip would slip off while I swam, I attempted a standing split trying to get my ankle high enough out of the water for me to tighten it. I must have been a sight. After a couple attempts of balancing on one leg in the open water, I finally got it tightened. The last green caps were crossing the line, and I plunged forward behind them.

I didn’t make it very far, maybe a few strokes, before I realized I couldn’t get enough air. I was frazzled. I was anxious. I was exerting needless, extra energy in my frantic state. Luckily for me, the water was only about four feet deep, so I just stopped and stood up! Thankfully that was allowed. Alright Tennille. I got to get a hold of myself. As I walked forward and peered out at the distant buoy that marked the halfway point, I had a conversation with myself that went something like this:

I don’t think I can do this!

But I have to, I can’t let my teammates down. I can’t honestly turn around and give up!

Maybe I could just walk the whole way. After all, the lady swimming next to me is hardly going any faster than I am walking!

Oh please, I’m not going to walk the whole way! Seriously!

Okay, well, I just have to get back under and start swimming whether I want to or not.

I dive forward.

Okay, pretend I’m alone. This isn’t really a race. This is fun, right? I’m doing this for fun. I’m relaxed. Stroke, glide, kick, stroke, glide, breathe. Okay, I’m doing alright. I can handle this. Stroke, glide, kick, breathe, sight for the buoy. Oh my, I haven’t made any progress. Just ignore how far away it is. This is fun, I’m doing this for fun. Keep going. Okay, I think I passed someone, that’s good. Stroke, glide, kick, okay, I can do this.

And so it went. I finally reached half-way and turned around to come back. Stroking, gliding, kicking, breathing and sighting, I finally made it to the last buoy and turned towards shore. Ahh, the sweet shoreline. I jumped out from the water, running to Judy who was waiting for me with her bike. David was there also, waiting for his teammate who had to do what I did twice! David exclaimed that I had made it in personal record time. What? That’s impossible. Sure enough, despite my delayed start and frazzled state of mind early on, I had finished it four minutes faster than my record for swimming that distance in the structure and calmness of a pool. A half-mile in 22 minutes.

Well, I was really just thankful it was over. Now I could calm down and cheer for Judy, Kimmy and the guys.

But, I learned some valuable lessons that day. Some might compare it to the Christian journey: by focusing on the finish line, you find the strength and endurance to push you through present drama. Or you might conclude that the lesson is to learn to find joy and peace in the present circumstance, and before you know it, you’ve reached the end having lived a good life. But for me, the lesson most profound was that I can’t let fears keep me from the life goals in front of me. By conquering one fear at a time, God will bring me closer and closer to reaching my potential. And by God’s grace, I’ve conquered a fear. And it feels good.

Next?

Conquering the fear of death by way of the Chicago Marathon, October 10, 2010.

What did I get myself into now?

Triathlon Fun

2.5 miles running on the beach.
19 miles on bike.
3.5 miles on canoe.
1.5 miles running.

Bonding experience. :)

This was our team for AU's Beach 2 Bank triathlon. It took place last Friday and was a blast. Well, maybe not at the exact time we were all doing our selective parts, but.... :)
It was fun nonetheless and we were proud of ourselves for accomplishing such a feat. Especially since we put more time into our t-shirts then into training. But we didn't come in last! Almost...but not last. ;)
I took part in the biking section by the way. Our team was "The CC"--Camping Club. Nothing like a triathlon to bond you with your vespers pals.