(Warning: Long RR)

Here at the beginning of my third year, I was feeling pretty much at the nadir of my fledgling triathlon career. I had been forced to take a month off training in February in my last stages of preparation for the Virginia Bar. On one hand, it paid off: I was one of the lucky 57% who passed. On the other, I was way behind where I needed to be in my off-season preparation.

It showed in my performance. I DNF'ed at the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler. Debi and I agreed that I should go for it, since I knew that I could do the 5k. So I did, but crapped out at Mile 6 when I started feeling a nasty new knee pain that has since gone away. Also, I started a new job in DC - 50+ hour weeks plus 2.5-hour daily commutes. I struggled to get back in a training groove, but was just worn out - so much so that I DNS'ed the Homegrown Tri, which I had been looking forward to all year.

So I approached Luray with some trepidation tempered with hope. I was adjusting to my new work schedule and getting some training in. I thought that this race, marked "easy" (!) by Set-Up Inc. would do the trick. And of course there's the Dave Glover factor. I'm a big fan, and I wanted to support his race and see my RATS peeps.

Bottom line: it ended up being the worst race of my career, but one from which I learned some important lessons.

Here's what happened:

Mistake #1: I decided to go up the day of the race. Although I had never been to Luray before, I studied the maps and convinced myself that I could do the course. Lesson #1: With rare exceptions that I have yet to find, always preview a course the day before, even if you just drive it.

So Heather and I packed up and arrived in Luray in plenty of time to set up and say hello to the abundance of RATs in attendance. There was even a guy with Gator gear next to me in the transition area. Go Gators, indeed.

The mood was fun and festive, with lots of families in attendance, which leads to Mistake/Lesson #2: Always bring Farley to events like these. He would have had grand fun playing with all the other dogs and would have kept Heather company, too.

Swim: the course was well-marked and the lake was relatively clean and clear (compared to Lake Audubon, at least). Although it was on the cool side, I acclimated myself to the water and calmly waited for my wave - the "party" wave, the announcer called it (this guy was a hoot).

We were off, and it hit me nearly immediately. Swim panic. Maybe it was because it was my first tri of the year, maybe my lack of conditioning. Who knows, but there it was, almost as bad as Reston 2004, when I failed the swim.

I rolled over on my back to try to stop the hyperventilating. At least I wasn't pulling at my wetsuit collar with the claustrophobic get-this-thing-off-me-now feeling, but it was awfully near that. I just kept moving forward, kicking on my back, rolling back over to do a scull-ish garbage stroke. I stubbornly kept on, ignoring the persistent voices that begged me to quit, that I'd never make it through the bike, let alone the run. I just pushed forward, ignoring the shame I felt about being waaaay behind Every. Single. Other. Triathlete out there. 40+ minutes later, I staggered out of the lake. I was exhausted. Pushing past those voices had taken a lot out of me.

T1 was easy enough. Inhaled a gel, caught my breath, tried to regain some dignity. Passed Heather on the way out, as she encouraged me not to quit.

Bike: Felt good to be out of that effin lake. I started up the first long hill and just started grinding gears. Granny gears. Cresting the hill, my eyes got all saucer-like at the view of the descent. Even with my hand lightly on the rear brake for the sake of control, I was screeeming down the hill at 41 mph. That's when it's good to be a big girl.

It's less fun, though, when the chain slips as said big girl is shifting at the bottom of the hill. OK, fixed that, but then my face fell when I saw the *next* long hill coming up. I saw two cyclists by the side of the road and asked if they needed anything. When one asked if I had a patch kit, I pulled over and offered help. At this point, I was just out of gas, physically and emotionally, and took the out. I realized that the course was gonna be all hills, all the time, and I just couldn't do it. Or so I told myself. Mistake/Lesson #3: once you get sucked into the vortex of negativity on the swim, it's hard to shake it later. It grows and grows until it lies to you and tells you that fixing other peoples' flats is more important than trudging through your own race.

After struggling with tubes on both bikes, we learned that my patch kit wasn't worth a crap. So the sag wagon came by (after Debi, stv, and other speedy cyclists had zoomed by), we 3 hopped in, and were carted back to the park.

I can't tell you how further demoralizing it is to hear everyone cheering for you as you approach T2, only to realize that you've DNF'ed. And not for an injury, either. My RAT peeps were as supportive as ever, but the disappointment that I felt was crushing.

I packed up my stuff and decided to quit the sport. Three years into this, and I can't swim like a normal human being across a widdle lake, can't face hills without getting psyched out. Screw this, I told Heather on the way back to the car, runners still in the race passing us on the 5k course. Runners that hadn't choked.

But then I realized, what's the alternative? I've bought all these cool toys (and unflattering clothes), so now what? Stash all this tri stuff in the basement while I sit on the couch getting even fatter? Sorry, that's just not acceptable anymore.

So it looks like I'm in this for good. If that's going to be the case, I need to adjust my attitude, starting with Lesson #4: a good attitude only gets you so far. Being positive doesn't mean jack if you haven't put in the laps/miles.

I've since adjusted my expectations (with Debi's guidance, of course). Instead of working on distance, we're going to work on speed. That means putting off another stab at the Marine Corps Marathon and instead prepping for the Philly Half

I've also started training on Saturdays with Sarah B. - we committed to cycling workouts after the Reston Masters swim. So far, it's helped a lot (Aprille, we have to get you out there!).

Most importantly, I've added intensity to my training. Not just picking up the pace, but pushing myself and committing - seriously committing - to my goals. I've crossed the finish line at Reston (my A+ race), so I know that I can do that. Now I'm setting a time goal: 3:45. Everything that I do this summer is focused on this goal.

Thank you for reading.