The trip up was fairly uneventful and I made it up to the quaint little town by 1pm on Thursday. Earlier that day when I rolled up at my first rest stop in VT, I could feel all eyes on me as I pulled up Andy's shiny BMW in between two tractors parked in the service area. I knew I (being Asian) and the car (being non-tractor) looked a bit out of place and I initially shrugged it off despite my general distaste of feeling like the oddball in any setting. I had made reservations at the North Beach Campground (for $26/night to avoid the ridiculous $300 per night stay at the host hotel Sheraton), but when I arrived there to set up my tent, I got the same feeling that I was just going to have to endure a bit more glares from the RV dwellers and other campers nearby. As I pitched my tent (perfectly, by the way) I whistled to Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger" while pretending I wasn't paying any attention to my neighbor who apparently was struggling with his tent as he flipped it upside down, inside out, and finally got another dude to help him out. I could feel the eyes on my back as I unpacked my gear - I could only assume they were wondering what business an Asian gal had driving a Beemer to come rough it out in the woods.
 |
| It doesn't look that out of place, does it? |
As soon as I walked into the race expo at the Sheraton, I realized I made a major triathlete faux pas when I looked down and saw I was still wearing what I traveled in (yellow T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops). My hand instinctively reached for my head where, to my disappointment, I found my Old Navy sunglasses perched up on top instead of my racing glasses that would have at least slightly legitimized my attendance. Yes, as I glanced around, the familiar scene set in to mind of all the other major expo's I'd attended - left and right, athletes whizzed by me, making it very clear that they were athletes and not just regular hotel meeting attendees, or tourists, or staff. As if the gorgeous interior design of the Sheraton wasn't intimidating enough, the entrance to the expo ballroom was lined with tables of freshly squeezed lemonade drinks and a buffet of finger foods. Of course I helped myself to some, but not before doing a quick 360 to make sure no one was watching. Which later, I told myself was a ridiculous paranoia on my part. What were they going to say? Hey, YOU! Snacks ONLY for people who spent $300 to stay here tonight. You dirty camper find your food elsewhere!"
 |
| Rooms at the Sheraton overlooking the indoor pool/spa. |
 |
| This is where MY party's at. |
After driving the bike course and admiring the mansions in Southeast Burlington, I settled in for run and admired the scenery. This place was absolutely stunning. I had started running around 7:15pm, and by then the sun was starting to go down. I stopped by the transition area by the waterfront and was in awe. New England was truly a beautiful place, I got caught up just sitting there watching the sun go down. I felt completely at peace and forgot about how awkward I had been feeling before, that is, until a little kid passed me with his Grandma and asked her, "Hey look, Grandma! I saw a Chinese person!"
I met two guys that were camping next to me that evening - Paul and Josh. We had some friendly chit-chat over the race, and since they both had competed the year before, I had a lot to ask about the course. They had some good advice to give me, and I really appreciated it, and they even offered to join me for a bike ride the next day when I told them I was thinking about riding parts of it to get familiar with it. Then the conversation went something like this:
Josh: "Hey, so if you want some company, let us know, we know the route."
Me: "Yeah sure. So you guys fast? What are your goals for this race anyway?"
Paul: "Oh, well, I'd like to break 2 hours. I came in 3rd last year so maybe I'll win this year."
Josh: "I just came back from that week long cruise so really, as long as I qualify again for Worlds this time, I'll be happy. What about you?"
Me: Gulp. "Oh, wow...WOW...alright. Yeah, wahoo! Goals. Awesome thing....awesome. Yeah um. Dang you know what? I'm really tired so I'm gonna hit the hay...and I may be really tired tomorrow so that ride might not happen....ya' know....cuz I'm gonna kill it on race day...gotta save up...for...that...." Exit to Site #128 and zipper myself away.
The next day, Friday, I set out with an early morning drive (in a vehicle) of the bike course while listening to my book-on-tape and munching on my Dunkin Donuts Meal #6 (Veggie flatbread). Then I headed back to the campsite where coincidentally, they were holding the practice swim at North Beach. It was supposed to start at 11, but by the time I got there at 11:05, parking was already quite limited and there were already 100+ people there suited up and in the water. Once again, as I grabbed my stuff and started towards the beach, I suddenly felt the butterflies in my stomach again. Now that everyone was in their bathing suits, I started feeling the self-consciousness set in as I looked around to see all the women with their rock solid bodies in 2-piece work out bathing suits, sporting their "TEAM USA" bottoms obviously to show the rest of the world that they were better than its other substandard inhabitants (and they were, so that's cool). Others wore swim caps from their most prized triathlon experience....I saw a bunch of "IRONMAN", "Escape from Alcatraz", and other big name race swim caps, so of course I searched my bag and found my "Iron Girl" cap. No one has to know it's actually a sprint...
As I showered after my short swim, I decided to head back to the expo because I really didn't get to see some of the things I wanted to see. And this time, I was going to face my fear head on and spend as much time as I wanted there, dangit. So I pulled my hair in a tight pony, found myself one of my old tri shirts (Philly at that...I cursed myself for leaving my 70.3 at home), donned my bike shorts (even though I was not biking), put on some sneakers and headed back to the expo. And just in case there was still a question about it, I brought my race goody bag I'd received the day prior to sling around my shoulder.
After walking around the expo and realizing I didn't have the money to buy a new bike or sign up for Ironman Miami, I decided to charge my phone and sit there, and do what I truly enjoy doing: people-watching. And it was there that I realized that this feeling that I had harvested inside - of feeling completely insecure - was absolutely, 100%, down-right hilarious. I watched as I saw a team of old 70+ year old ladies wheel their $4000 TT bikes in through the doors....the disc wheels rhythmically clicking, alternating with the tap-taps of their cleats bearing feet that were dressed in neon compression socks. Each had on those ridiculous megaman helmets with the face shield attached to it, reminding me of the traditional Army pilot helmets and making me wonder if wearing them made them feel like they were so badass that they didn't realize they were 70. I saw a couple come through the automatic doors with duffle bags and giant bike cases, of course covered with stickers "26.2", "13.1", "70.3", "140.6", "I TRI", "Swim, Bike Run." They clearly came straight from the airport yet they were both wearing cooling arm sleeves, tri visors and spandex shorts. I wanted to tell them they were "TRI-ing" too hard to let people know they were here for a race, and maybe they should put a sticker with their names on those cases because surely "Threesome?", while funny, would not give me a clue as to who to contact if I found this case on the side of the road. I listened to small sideline conversations about the challenging bike ride at the Lake Placid Ironman, and other random people jumping in with "Oh the course was much tougher when I did it 4 years ago...."and I desperately wanted to interrupt with "Hey did you guys go bobsledding? I missed it when I went because it closes at 6." I saw proud parents, grandparents, and probably some second-cousins with custom T-shirts with "GO JOHN GO! SWIM, BIKE, RUN!! WE LOVE YOU!!" And it made me wonder how much they saved if they bought wholesale instead of just individual shirts, and if it was one size fits all. I noticed the older guys liked to wear sleeveless shirts to show off their Ironman logo tattoos, while the ladies often selected old race shirts from many, many years ago (my guess to show how long they've been in the sport). I saw Garmin watches on wrists, people chompin' on GU Energy tablets, numerous jerseys with emblems indicating sponsorships, compression socks, fancy transition bags with buttons, stickers, and hanging stick figures swimming, biking, and running. The list went on and on and on, and at the end of it all, I just sat there and laughed to myself.
Why I had felt like such an idiot before was just beyond me. Was I jealous? Maybe. I wish I could eat Hammer Gel for lunch and be satisfied with that. I wish I was built like an Olympian and yes, I wish I could wear butt-padded spandex shorts to the grocery store and not feel the slightest bit self-aware of it. Yeah, I could use another pair of compression socks and maybe I'll go with green this time, and I could use another battery in my dying Garmin. But really, as I racked my bike later that day, and just looked at it staring right back at me, I realized something kind of funny.
There was my bike, all by itself on a rack that would, in just minutes, be filled with thousands more surrounding it. It is, at the bare bones, the basic model with no fancy upgrades or components, carried by the stock manufactured wheels. As I looked back at this picture, it made me laugh because I knew I would come back the next day and struggle to find it amongst the sea of other fantastic bikes. As a matter of fact, there are ton of the same bikes out there, just with different components and more expensive accessories. But it doesn't take away the fact that this is still a bike - MY bike - one that I love just the way it is with nothing else added to it, one that supposedly my husband thought I earned when he bought it for me to replace my Trek roadbike. I could care less what kind of wheels are on it, or what pedals are on there. Even with my Trek, knowing that it was simpler than the others around it, I always knew that it is my hard work and effort that went into making it go faster, and I took pride in that whenever I passed anyone on a tri bike.
I know it sounds cheesy, but before I left it there for the night, I patted it on its aerobar head and told it to not worry. It may be alone for a little while, but not to get lonely. Because when all the other bikes show up and it feels maybe not good enough just because it doesn't have fancy wheels, it's perfect enough for me. And as I walked away and snapped this picture, I realized that I don't have to have anything fancy either...and as long as I do my part to do my very best, I'm perfect enough for me too.
 |
| View of transition area from the top of the hill (that we have to run up!) |
 |
| Start point for the swim |
 |
| Lake Champlain in all its beauty |
Josh: "Hey, so if you want some company, let us know, we know the route."
Me: "Yeah sure. So you guys fast? What are your goals for this race anyway?"
Paul: "Oh, well, I'd like to break 2 hours. I came in 3rd last year so maybe I'll win this year."
Josh: "I just came back from that week long cruise so really, as long as I qualify again for Worlds this time, I'll be happy. What about you?"
Me: Gulp. "Oh, wow...WOW...alright. Yeah, wahoo! Goals. Awesome thing....awesome. Yeah um. Dang you know what? I'm really tired so I'm gonna hit the hay...and I may be really tired tomorrow so that ride might not happen....ya' know....cuz I'm gonna kill it on race day...gotta save up...for...that...." Exit to Site #128 and zipper myself away.
The next day, Friday, I set out with an early morning drive (in a vehicle) of the bike course while listening to my book-on-tape and munching on my Dunkin Donuts Meal #6 (Veggie flatbread). Then I headed back to the campsite where coincidentally, they were holding the practice swim at North Beach. It was supposed to start at 11, but by the time I got there at 11:05, parking was already quite limited and there were already 100+ people there suited up and in the water. Once again, as I grabbed my stuff and started towards the beach, I suddenly felt the butterflies in my stomach again. Now that everyone was in their bathing suits, I started feeling the self-consciousness set in as I looked around to see all the women with their rock solid bodies in 2-piece work out bathing suits, sporting their "TEAM USA" bottoms obviously to show the rest of the world that they were better than its other substandard inhabitants (and they were, so that's cool). Others wore swim caps from their most prized triathlon experience....I saw a bunch of "IRONMAN", "Escape from Alcatraz", and other big name race swim caps, so of course I searched my bag and found my "Iron Girl" cap. No one has to know it's actually a sprint...
 |
| Practice Swim |
After walking around the expo and realizing I didn't have the money to buy a new bike or sign up for Ironman Miami, I decided to charge my phone and sit there, and do what I truly enjoy doing: people-watching. And it was there that I realized that this feeling that I had harvested inside - of feeling completely insecure - was absolutely, 100%, down-right hilarious. I watched as I saw a team of old 70+ year old ladies wheel their $4000 TT bikes in through the doors....the disc wheels rhythmically clicking, alternating with the tap-taps of their cleats bearing feet that were dressed in neon compression socks. Each had on those ridiculous megaman helmets with the face shield attached to it, reminding me of the traditional Army pilot helmets and making me wonder if wearing them made them feel like they were so badass that they didn't realize they were 70. I saw a couple come through the automatic doors with duffle bags and giant bike cases, of course covered with stickers "26.2", "13.1", "70.3", "140.6", "I TRI", "Swim, Bike Run." They clearly came straight from the airport yet they were both wearing cooling arm sleeves, tri visors and spandex shorts. I wanted to tell them they were "TRI-ing" too hard to let people know they were here for a race, and maybe they should put a sticker with their names on those cases because surely "Threesome?", while funny, would not give me a clue as to who to contact if I found this case on the side of the road. I listened to small sideline conversations about the challenging bike ride at the Lake Placid Ironman, and other random people jumping in with "Oh the course was much tougher when I did it 4 years ago...."and I desperately wanted to interrupt with "Hey did you guys go bobsledding? I missed it when I went because it closes at 6." I saw proud parents, grandparents, and probably some second-cousins with custom T-shirts with "GO JOHN GO! SWIM, BIKE, RUN!! WE LOVE YOU!!" And it made me wonder how much they saved if they bought wholesale instead of just individual shirts, and if it was one size fits all. I noticed the older guys liked to wear sleeveless shirts to show off their Ironman logo tattoos, while the ladies often selected old race shirts from many, many years ago (my guess to show how long they've been in the sport). I saw Garmin watches on wrists, people chompin' on GU Energy tablets, numerous jerseys with emblems indicating sponsorships, compression socks, fancy transition bags with buttons, stickers, and hanging stick figures swimming, biking, and running. The list went on and on and on, and at the end of it all, I just sat there and laughed to myself.
Why I had felt like such an idiot before was just beyond me. Was I jealous? Maybe. I wish I could eat Hammer Gel for lunch and be satisfied with that. I wish I was built like an Olympian and yes, I wish I could wear butt-padded spandex shorts to the grocery store and not feel the slightest bit self-aware of it. Yeah, I could use another pair of compression socks and maybe I'll go with green this time, and I could use another battery in my dying Garmin. But really, as I racked my bike later that day, and just looked at it staring right back at me, I realized something kind of funny.
There was my bike, all by itself on a rack that would, in just minutes, be filled with thousands more surrounding it. It is, at the bare bones, the basic model with no fancy upgrades or components, carried by the stock manufactured wheels. As I looked back at this picture, it made me laugh because I knew I would come back the next day and struggle to find it amongst the sea of other fantastic bikes. As a matter of fact, there are ton of the same bikes out there, just with different components and more expensive accessories. But it doesn't take away the fact that this is still a bike - MY bike - one that I love just the way it is with nothing else added to it, one that supposedly my husband thought I earned when he bought it for me to replace my Trek roadbike. I could care less what kind of wheels are on it, or what pedals are on there. Even with my Trek, knowing that it was simpler than the others around it, I always knew that it is my hard work and effort that went into making it go faster, and I took pride in that whenever I passed anyone on a tri bike.
I know it sounds cheesy, but before I left it there for the night, I patted it on its aerobar head and told it to not worry. It may be alone for a little while, but not to get lonely. Because when all the other bikes show up and it feels maybe not good enough just because it doesn't have fancy wheels, it's perfect enough for me. And as I walked away and snapped this picture, I realized that I don't have to have anything fancy either...and as long as I do my part to do my very best, I'm perfect enough for me too.
No comments:
Post a Comment