I packed my gear this past weekend and headed to Delaware with my training buddy, Ray, for the Bear Triathlon. It was a long drive, nearly 4.5 hours from Long Island, so we left early Saturday afternoon to make it in time for packet pickup. The ride was tedious, but there was a shared excitement. We were doing this!
Special Race – Bear Triathlon
Meeting some of our teammates for the first time made this race special. Jeanine came up from Maryland with her husband, and Nicole and Michelle did the same. Jon, our running buddy, now lives in Wilmington and met us there.
Suddenly, this race wasn’t just about the course ahead but the chance to connect with this incredible group of people I’ve only known through training stories and online interactions.
The Night Before Bear Triathlon
After we picked up our packets and listened to the race briefing, we headed to a diner for dinner. Sitting and swapping stories, laughter weaving our conversations, was terrific.
Later, I drove to the Hampton Inn, where Michele and Nicole also stayed. Jeanine stayed at a hotel closer to the venue, and Ray bunked at Jon’s apartment.
When my head hit the pillow, I told myself to manage my expectations for tomorrow. I was going into this race with one rule for myself: if I could swim and ride a bike, that would be enough. I was okay with a DNF. After all, I hadn’t run in years due to my knee, and the idea of finishing all three segments felt like a long shot.
Race Morning Nerves
At 4 a.m., my alarm went off, and I felt a rush of nerves. By 5 a.m., I was out the door with a stop at Wawa for coffee (a triathlon essential, obviously). I scoped out the transition area when I arrived at the race site. My first thought? Why were we all squished into such a small space when there was so much room to spread out? Nevertheless, I set up my gear, chatted with Nicole and Jeanine, and then found Ray and Jon for a quick debrief before transition closed.
Heading to the pond, I realized I’d left my nose plugs in the bathroom! This was almost race-ending for me—I can’t swim without them. Thankfully, I found them just in time, but the stress of that moment nearly pushed me over the edge. Between that and pre-race jitters, I was dry heaving on the sidelines. Was it nerves, asthma, or something else entirely? Who knows. I relaxed as much as possible and hugged Nicole and Jeanine before lining up for the swim.
The Swim That Almost Broke Me
The swim was supposed to be 750 yards, but it was closer to 975 yards. The water temperature was perfect, and I was confident as I glided toward the first buoy. But then, out of nowhere, a panic attack hit. What was happening? I talked myself down right there in the open water and focused on my stroke. “Just keep moving forward,” I told myself.
Soon, I found my rhythm and even started passing swimmers from earlier waves. But the sun was relentless, making the last buoy nearly impossible to see. After much squinting and guessing, I finally spotted it and returned to shore, relieved to have finished. Ray gave me a thumbs up at the swim exit, and it was the boost I needed to head into transition.
The Bike Ride of Reflection
I stripped off my wetsuit, threw on my helmet, bike shoes, and gloves, and headed for the 10-mile bike loop. The first 1.5 miles in and out of the park were congested, but I found my groove once I hit the open road. At times, I cruised at a happy 17.5 mph; other times, especially with headwinds, I slowed to 13 mph. It was steady, and I was passing people, which felt good. About halfway through the course, I started thinking about my past race in Key West and how I’d fallen on a tight turn. That memory brought a wave of anxiety, but I shoved it aside and stayed focused.
Coming back into transition, things started to feel chaotic. There were bikes and runners all around, and for a moment, I worried about a potential accident. Holding my breath, I made it safely through and racked my bike. Then came the big question I had grappled with all morning: Would I attempt the run?
The Run I Didn’t Think I Could Do
I had convinced myself leading up to this race that I wouldn’t, couldn’t, run. But as I stood there, sneakers in hand, I thought, “Why not try?” I started with a 15/30 run/walk ratio but quickly shifted to 30/15. My knee didn’t feel great, and my asthma kicked up a notch without my inhaler, but I kept whispering to myself, “You got this.” Surprisingly, the people around me seemed to echo that sentiment. Random racers shouted, “You can do it!” and “Keep going!” as they passed. It felt like they knew I was struggling, although they had no idea about my knee.
The course was stunning, part road and part shaded trails with trees guiding the way. I kept marveling at the beauty of it all, even though I was in pain. At the half-mile-to-go mark, I realized I was going to finish. I was going to do all three segments. My emotions bubbled over as I crossed the finish line—I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t believe it. Just a few weeks ago, walking across my living room was a struggle, and now I had finished a triathlon.
Celebrating the Wins
After the race, I cheered for my teammates at the awards ceremony. Nicole took second in her age group, and Jeanine took first. Watching their joy was infectious, and it felt like a win for all of us. This experience wasn’t just about individual achievements but camaraderie, teamwork, and celebrating our collective triumphs.
When it was over, we returned to Jon’s house, cleaned up, had lunch, and drove home. Reflecting on the weekend, I was filled with gratitude—not just for finishing the race but for the shared support of this amazing group of people. It reminded me of why I do this, push myself, and why these moments, however challenging, are worth every ounce of effort.
Here’s to the next one!