My DNF

My Happy DNF

Amy White 5/10/00 (www.slowtwitch.com)

I did something I shouldn’t have done today, and it was one of the best things I could’ve ever done. I am here to tell you that sometimes you should play against your plan, ignore all the cautionary voices in your head and just go out and do something to challenge yourself and see how far you can go.

I participated in Wildflower. Then I DNF’d—happily. Note the word choice. I didn’t race, I didn’t compete, I just participated. I wasn’t supposed to do this. I’ve had lots of little injuries in the last two months, and taken together they made for what I called Total Body Meltdown. In March, I decided I wasn’t going to go to Wildflower. I couldn’t really run, my shoulder had gone south and kept me out of the pool for a few weeks, another little injury affected my biking.

This sad state of affairs continued on through April, but improvement was on the horizon. I spent a few days on the couch feeling sorry for myself and watching bicycle racing. Well, that much of it was cool. (Except for today, when anybody who went by me on a motorcycle wearing yellow made me think “Oh, good, neutral support.”) Deciding I wasn’t going to go to Wildflower made things a lot easier. It took most of the pressure off of my first attempt at the half-ironman distance to know that, heck, I wasn’t even going to be doing it.

Two days ago, though, I had a rather eye-opening conversation with my doctor. Given the current state of things, he said, I could probably go on down to the lake and have a go at the bike ride, at least. Well, didn’t he just upset the apple cart. I truly hadn’t thought about trying such a thing. I was content to baby along my injuries and ease back into training. I was happy to be out riding my bike again, running a little bit, and swimming again. I thought moderation was going to be the key to happiness ‘cause I had exhausted just about every other possibility. But perhaps I was being too timid. I have a tendency to do that. So go out and do Wildflower? Do it? Well, my husband thought it was a great idea. So did my training partner. “You have the base,” they said. “He’s right.” When I got to the lake and told some friends, they stood up and cheered and hugged me and high-fived me.

Well, hell, I thought, I guess I better start thinking about this. I didn’t even know what time the race was going to start. Thankfully, one of my friends actually had his race program, so that little question was answered. Race morning came, this morning. I hadn’t really slept all that well, but it was OK. I wasn’t really racing. I was thinking if I had a good swim and felt OK, I’d get on my bike. For sure I wasn’t going to run; I knew I didn’t have those miles in my legs, not even given what I was charitably calling my “long taper.”

I waded into the water, surprised at how casual I felt. Was I going to swim? Oh, OK, I better sight the buoys. Swim, swim, swim. It’s good to be in the open water, good to remember how lousy I am at sighting. There’s something to work on. Have a pretty good swim. Come out of the water thinking, OK, maybe a little bike ride. If I feel lousy, I’ll stop. I’ll have a snack in Pleyto and turn around. I’ll have a popsicle in Bee Rock. I’ve got money in my pocket and Clif bars in my bag. I’m good to go. Start riding.

Beach Hill isn’t all that bad for some unknown reason. Now that’s surprising. Maybe this will be OK after all. Pretty soon I’m motoring along at what I was calling my “go all day” pace, just cruising, and doing the periodic body check-in. All systems go. I was having a great time. I smiled at the hilariously enthusiastic Cal Poly volunteers. People would pass me and say “Good job.” “Thanks,” I’d say, “you, too,” while secretly thinking, “You have absolutely no idea.” I’d pass somebody and be stunned. It wasn’t long until I was almost giddy. I was on my bike again, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and I truly, honestly didn’t have a care in the world.

I noticed the longhorns. I checked out the wildflowers and the beautiful green hills. I conjured up memories of past training rides and comical moments with my friends to keep me company. Sometimes those memories made me laugh out loud. It was a great chance to remember one of the reasons I love this sport: it gives grownups a chance to go outside and play for a while. I feel certain that some people would advise against this. I fear writing about this because my coach may not approve. But it boosted my confidence to know that I could go out and ride again, and swim again, and even jog a little. I think it’s safe to say I was the race’s happiest DNF. Not long ago, on another matter, my doctor said to me, “It’s all about how strong you are. So how strong are you?” I had my answer today, and that was worth a million bucks.