trust the rest

so that you can trust the rest

seven thirty six am. permission granted by the water. two swim caps on because there’s no way all of this hair was going into the one assigned to me. shoulders down and back. an open heart.

let’s go! the officiate asks for my bib number. today we play.

first rule of triathlon: make room for the unexpected.

as i dove into the water, ‘this is the moment I’ve been waiting for’. me and the elements. first ever competition swim in open water. my face is down in the water and i am quickly reminded that breathing through my nose isn’t an available option today. yes, somehow i forgot that i was out of breath going up the stairs at home just the day before. and well, here we are. the water reminded me.

ok, well what to do now? i’m in the depths of this lake and i need to breathe. “focus grasshopper” - those were the words that my dad offered me via text the night before. i could focus on what seemed to be lacking. i could focus on how this was supposed to be going. with the full lung capacity that was keeping my body afloat, i chose to focus on how i could breathe.

i remembered quickly the words of ms. beverly ‘trust the water’. clearly not how i planned to, i remembered many lessons on alternate strokes to be used when exhausted or when recalibrating to the rhythm of the water. side swimming it was. i swam on my side the entire way so that I could mouth breathe. i had two milliseconds to get over the old plan and relax into the water. that’s it. relax into the water. this was the training. and the water carried me. i understood at that moment why I have had very few lessons on ‘how to swim’ while many lessons on relaxing in the water. on race day, i needed to relax and focus on the rhythm.

the swim came to an end and as i stood up, i looked back.

for my race report, my coach asked what I would have done differently. the only thing that i would have done differently is kept my face in the direction that i was moving. i would have thanked the water and looked forward. i chose to look back. i saw a nearly empty bike rack and started to locate myself based on the position of others. the moment i looked back, i heard the voice of my coach (he surprised me by attending the race) ‘keep moving forward Crystal’.

okay Crystal, let’s go. this is your race.

i knew i had the opportunity to witness my body show up. yes, taking a few steps was absolutely exhausting. breathing was challenging. and i needed to focus on the task at hand - clipping into the bike and starting the cycle portion of the race. nothing about any other breath cadence was of any importance. here, we are.

once i was spatially oriented from being horizontal in the water for sixteen minutes, i was on the move. it took a second to learn how we would breathe for this portion of the race. let’s go Crystal. i knew that cycling would remind me, in a new way, of what I showed up for. i trained on hills often when i wasn’t injured so i had more energy to offer encouragement to the others that i passed along the way. i spoke to the other participants the way that i spoke to myself on my training rides.

oh yes, a few miles into the ride, my contact lens came out. make room for the unexpected! i could vaguely see the directions that the guides were pointing, so i’d yell, “which way”. sure enough as I rounded the last turn, my coach was there.

quickly clipping out, racking my bike, taking off my helmet and changing shoes, the run was ahead of me. i heard him say, ‘last leg Crystal, running is your strength’. i knew that this was it. i hadn’t run when my breathing was quite so labored. once again, i leaned into the aligned breathing cadence and gave it all there was to give. and there was the finish line. we did it.

i say we did it because WE did. i often show up to races alone. this helps me release any thought that i need to perform. when i arrived, the first voice i heard was ms. beverly (my beloved swim coach), she speaks my name with a firm authority. and then i heard someone yelling “let’s go Crystal”, this was the voice of a person in one my triathlon training groups. she was standing with three others from the group. after the announcements that i coughed through, i heard a deeper voice and that was my ironman coach. i had no idea that any of them would be there (except ms. beverly as she was officiating). i was surrounded by angels. they were quite literally in the water with me and on every turn of the race. i would have added pressure had i known they were coming, so i’m happy i didn’t know beforehand. and i was so honored that they would come. they knew where to be and i could focus on my assignment.

after crossing the finish line, i stood in front of the olympic rings while my coach snapped pictures like a proud parent, and we found out that i came in eleventh in my bracket for a race with hundreds of people. eleven has significance to me. it reminds me that i am here.

and what do you know, as i took a few steps to retrieve my bike, i saw a grasshopper. it was as if my dad said job well done.

my coach said celebrate today and send me your race report tomorrow.

what are you most proud of?
what will you do differently next time?

and well, I’m most proud of my adaptability. i also am proud of the way i trusted my body to show up (knowing how much gas to use on the ride so that my run could be swift and easeful).

the only thing i would have changed is keeping my head in the direction of my movement when coming out of the water. and i appreciate that in the moment, i wanted to see where i was. moving forward, i am in my practice of seeing that my location is here. always. all ways.

six+ weeks of my training, i was injured and mostly upside down as my body was healing. three days coming into the race i was deeply under the weather. all i could really do was rest. i had to trust the rest so that i could trust the rest. i had to trust that my body knew what to do. the pain cave isn’t unfamiliar territory.

i’ve never trained so much for rest in my life. and what got me through the most difficult part of the race? my ability to relax (rest) into the water.

did i mention that this was my fastest open water swim to date? it wasn’t the speed. it was the ability to rest.

trust the rest.

trust the rest.