My First Triathlon

The to-do list got one shorter today. BJ and I did the Pewaukee Triathlon. I've been training for a long time and through the experience I learned alot about how I really should have trained. I took the swimming for granted. I did go to the pool and swim laps, lots of laps thinking that I was ready since I could swim in the pool twice as far as the race required. I did not anticipate how different it would be in a lake. The waves and the other swimmers were two major factors. All I worked on was the endurance. For a moment, I thought I was going to drown before I would get to the end. The resistance of the waves made a quarter-mile lake swim tougher than a three-quarter mile pool swim. Lesson learned.

Changing out of my swimsuit was a little challenging since there were no changing rooms. So I just stood in the middle of the parking lot wrapped in a towel and removed my suit. I needed to be comfortable to finish this race and I was not going to do it in a wet swimsuit.

The biking was easy for the most part, I've never had a problem with it except that I don't like doing it. I headed out on my bike while eating a granola bar, easing my way down the road. As soon as I turned the corner out of the chute, I hit a big hill. Right off the bat, I started to feel tired. I actually thought 'forget this-just turn around and quit'. But once the granola bar was gone and I could concentrate on my riding and it was going well. The countryside was pretty and the area was hilly but nothing really major, just at the beginning. That is, until mile 13 when my chain decided to jump off the sprocket making it extremely difficult to climb the next hill. And the next hill was a doozy. I heard some people discussing it before the triathlon started, the comments were to pace yourself to be ready for the big hill at mile 14. So amazingly, I climbed it stuck in a low gear thinking how glad I was that I never had to leave my clips through the whole ride.

Running is my thing. I am not fast, I like a nice and easy pace. So I completed the run without mental or physical anguish. I did feel a tightness in my calves from biking, but I stretched my calves while running on the hills.

I'm not certain of my time, but I hope I was close to the 2 hour 15 minute mark. My goal was originally under 2 hours, but the swim really did me in. This was definitely a fantastic experience but I'm not so sure I would do it again. So for now, I'll just stratch the triathlon of my life time achievement list.

I am not a Hero

Having off yesterday for the 4th of July holiday and for the rest of the week, my usual run is interrupted. I really like running the lakefront downtown, but when I'm off work I'm not driving downtown just for that. So my path goes around my neighborhood and through an industrial park just on the other side of the main street that separates my subdivision from the factories. The benefits of the industrial park include a flat, well-paved road, little traffic, and the knowledge of exactly the number of miles from one end to the other.

I headed out this morning in my usual way, iPod in check, sweatband to hold back the short ends of my hair, and that's about it. I got through the neighborhood uninterrupted since it was 7AM. The only traffic I had to deal with were the employees heading into the parking lots of the factories, but since it was a little after 7, that was rare. There were a few semi-trucks heading out which seemed to suck the air out of my path as they passed by. The sun was getting hot and I was glad I got out of the house to get this done early.

I had run a half mile through the neighborhood and had a mile and a half done through the industrial park when I came across this tiny little pile of fur. I've run past road-kill before and even though it is difficult to look at, I usually view the dead creature and say a little prayer for the animal (yes, I believe that even the vermin road-kill do not deserve to die at the hands of man in this way). This time was so different. I looked down at the little pile of fur and it moved! By this point, I was one step passed the fur-ball so I had to stop in my tracks and look back. These sad little green eyes were staring up at me. I bent down to get a good look and this tiny little kitten was covered in grass clippings, leaning against the curb for support. It could barely walk from what I could tell.

I stood there in disbelief. What do I do? I had nothing with me to handle a little creature. I instantly thought to myself just leave it there and go get help. I memorized the spot in the road where I left the little critter and headed home. I never ran a mile so fast and never has a mile been so long in my entire running career. I whimpered all the way home, mind racing, I had it all planned out by the time I got to my front door. I ran into the house, grabbed Toby's kitty carrier, an old beach towel from the laundry room, and the car keys. In tears, I only stopped long enough to tell Jeff I had to go back and get an abandoned kitten.

I drove back to the spot where I found the kitty praying that it was still there and that no one had run over it. I grabbed the beach towel and walked towards the kitten. As soon as I bent down it tried to run. Weakly it only took three steps before it stopped. I threw the towel over it and pick it up wrapping it in the towel. The little thing squealed and showed me it's claws. It was a fighter. I gently put the towel and kitten the the cat carrier and headed home. By this time I was bawling uncontrollably. I tried to compose myself before I got into the house. I thought Jeff and his sister would think I was crazy.

The moment I left Jeff thought we were keeping another cat. What he didn't know until he saw it was that this little guy was too small to keep; it needed the kind of care I knew I couldn't give it. (Not that I didn't think about keeping it.) I know a few people who work for the Humane Society so I didn't have any qualms about calling them for help. I knew this little creature would be in good hands there. The woman who answered the phone explained that all animals in this situation must go through animal control. She could sense the stress in my voice and she explained that after they take it in, they will give it the care it needs then send it to the shelter for adoption. I felt relieved and called animal control. They explained the same thing to me and gave me three options for turning the little guy in. They could send a truck (I could picture the little thing riding in a truck all day), I could take it to my local police department (same thing, I envisioned it sitting there all day till someone got to it), or I could drive it over to 38th & Burnham and drop it off. I chose the latter of the three.

I put the kitten in the car but not before taking his picture. When I got to animal control I felt instant relief. The place looked new, clean, and inviting. The pleasant woman behind the counter said that she would come around and take a look. She reached into the cat carrier and took out the little kitten by the scruff of the neck. She inspected it, lifted its tail and announced that it was a little girl. I instantly had this crazy thought that I wanted to name her Abby (like some sort of shortened version of abandoned). Like I said, crazy. The woman placed the kitten in one of her cages and proceeded to ask me questions to complete her paperwork. My name, address for verification that I'm a Milwaukee County resident, and the location where I found the kitten. As I told my story of how I found her I started with the sobbing again. Uncontrollably, I just balled as I tried to say 'How could someone do something this terrible?' The police officer who sat next to the desk clerk behind the counter was struggling to keep her composure; apparently I was having an emotional effect on her as well.

The clerk explained that their veterinarian would look the little girl over to make sure she's OK, then they would keep her there for a week in case someone would claim her as lost (fat chance), then she would be sent to a shelter for adoption. She thanked me and I left. I finally regained my composure as I pulled into my driveway. Jeff reassured me that I was a hero. He knew I was traumatized and he tried to make me feel better. He told me that God put that kitten there just when I was going by because he knew I would be the one to do the right thing. So it was all good. So why don't I feel good about it? I just feel sad that it happened in the first place.

I wish I would have petted her before I left.

I just don't think I will ever think of this as heroic.