Junkie: Adrenalin & Mr. Brownstone

Is there anything in life that can not be summed up best by Guns ‘n Roses?

I used to do a little but a little wouldn’t do,  so the little got more and more.
I just keep tryin’ to get a little better, said a little better than before….

I don’t think I was three feet beyond the finish line when I had the fully formed thought “I want to do this again.  And I want to go faster.  And farther.”

I am a junkie, an addict, a lover of a rush.  And the sprint triathlon delivers.

On the website where I signed up the race promised this thrill – “On this day, you will accomplish more than you thought possible. You will overcome doubt, fear and adversity. And you will beam with pride, strength and joy while doing it.”  I didn’t think they were blowing smoke.  But I had no idea I’d be beaming with pride and overwhelmed with a feeling of success mere moments after our arrival.

4:30 am wake up.  Nurse Goose.  Get out of bed.  Make coffee.  Nurse Goose.  Get dressed.  Nurse Goose.  Sneak out of the house at 5:10.  Arrive at race shortly after 6 am.  Coffee is gone.  Set up bike and transition area.  Eye port-a-potty.  Run to port-a-potty.  Prepare to enter port-a-potty barefoot.  Contemplate which is more horrendous – pooping in port-a-potty or in pants.

6:17 am.  Leave port-a-potty and hear “Eye of the Tiger” blaring from race speakers.  I was already a winner.  (If you thought you were getting a race recap, think again.  It’s me, remember!)

This girl poops at home.

She takes short vacations.  She gave herself an enema while she was in labor to avoid pooping while having a baby.  She chose a birthing center largely because they let you go home without pooping first.  She comes home from overnight trips bloated.

She poops at home.

But not today.  Today I “accomplished more than [I] thought possible” as the race website promised.  And I did it all before we even left the starting line.

Poop.  Swim.  Bike. Run.   I did it.  I am pleased to report that I am a much faster swimmer than I realized.  I was nervous about running out of gas (heh) so I took my time in both the swim and the bike and now I know I can push harder.

I knew I’d be nervous.  I knew I’d pull through.  I knew I’d scream “newbie” with my every step but I was wholly ill-prepared for how hard I would laugh.  When you are trying to look serious about racing on a Comfort Cruiser (even if it is a smoking hot Canondale) you can get the giggles. If I lean down towards my handlebars my elbows are above my ears.  At one point my workout sidekick (on her shiny red Schwinn) remarked that we would most certainly be voted Cutest Couple.  We were sweaty, sure, but we still looked like we were out for a Sunday ride.  We needed baskets.  Or ice cream cones. But we finished!  And we finished pretty “average!”

I got to see my Official Cheer team at our second transition.  Em’s sign that read “Go, Kelly, you can do it! I mean it!!” made me giggle.  Lucy maintained her somewhat stunned expression when she saw me.  She sported this face much of the day, can’t blame her.  She was plucked from her bed at an ungodly hour.  MQD and my father-in-law gave me a hearty balance of supportive “Good for you!”s and “Go that ways!!” while I looked around confused at the start of the run.

All in all, today was a win.  Moments after Lucy was born I said “That wasn’t that bad.”  I can recall thinking I kind of wanted to do it again.  But once the adrenalin wore off and I was showered and at home I thought better of that plan.  This time?  The adrenalin is gone and I have four other tabs open in my browser right now – each one another sprint triathlon to be done this summer.

But like Axl said about hanging out with Mr. Brownstone – “a little got more and more.”  I know I can go faster.  But I think I can go farther, y’all.  I think I can.  I think I can.