The Doomed Triathlon.

I’m supposed to be sitting here taking a nap, but I cannot. My mind keeps reeling about The Triathlon That Wasn’t.

You might remember the Red Hills Triathlon from last year, when I was DQ’d in the swim because of a leg cramp. Well, this year I was determined to fight my Lake Hall demons and complete the course with aplomb – this is, after all, a training race for the Columbia Triathlon in May. So I loaded my bike aboard an MD-88 and came on down for a little Saturday morning fun.

All was going well throughout the week. I did a practice wetsuit swim on Thursday. Tested the bike one final time yesterday. And noticed, yesterday morning, that the weather forecast was not looking favorable. As in, at all.

Now, that I had not counted on.

So I got up this morning, ate my bagel and cream cheese as is customary, and dressed in my tri suit. I went through all my morning prep. And then my family and I headed down the road for the race, lightning popping all around us.

When we got to the race site, we were still undergoing considerable thunderstorms. And then one of the police officers working the event said we were going to a duathlon format, which both displeased and excited me alternately. A duathlon meant I wouldn’t have to swim in the lightning-rod lake. But it would still mean I’d have to be atop my metal bike for the better part of an hour and a half.

See, I have this thing. I don’t like to train – or race – in thunderstorms. Something about being a conduit for electricity to reach the ground tends to, I don’t know, make me uneasy. Now, I’ll readily admit that I have a fear of lightning. But lightning isn’t something benign, like cockroaches. No, lightning is actually a threat. So really my fear of such is akin to a fear of, oh, I don’t know, polar bears. You know? They’re fine from a distance, but not so much when you try to wrap your arms around them to say hello.

So, anyway. The race.

They weren’t canceling it, that much I knew. So I made my family a promise last night because I knew I’d be too swayed by emotion this morning – I wanted to race, after all, and I love love LOVE the preparation part – to make a decision with a clear head. If the lightning had not abated by an hour before the race, I would step away.

The start time for the race was 7:30. By 6:30, the storm was still going strong. Same with 7.

So I made the best decision I could; I decided not to compete. It was a hard decision to make this time, because I really had a taste for a triathlon/duathlon today, and I wanted to be with my friend Erin, who is doing her first one. But I also knew that the lightning was liable to continue all day long, and I didn’t want to be caught up in that, frankly.

When I got home, Erin called from the race site and said they’d decided to do the swim after all. So I am even more confident than ever that I made the right decision. While I am quite sure that no one will get hurt in Lake Hall today, I’m just not a thunderstorm swimmer. It’s who I am. I make no excuses for that. Some people? They’re more brave in the face of a lightning storm. But I do these tris for fun. I certainly don’t do them to win. :) And if all I’m going to be doing out there is keeping one eye to the clouds, worried about where the next lightning bolt is going to hit, then there’s no sense in me competing today. This was not my A-race. This was an excuse to come down and visit my family.

But I still feel, somehow, sort of, down deep, like a quitter. I know I am not. I know I made the very best decision for me, with the information I was given, at the time I had to make it. But I’m not used to dropping out of things. It’s just not what I do. You know?

Anyway, here I sit, feeling like I made the best decision I could but wishing I were competing. I feel like a loser. I suppose that sting will ease in time, but it is rough to stomach this morning.

So instead, I shall try to take a nap. :)