Head In The Box

    Today was my "B" race, my Tuneup race to see how well all the pieces are falling into place. This triathlon is my one year anniversary Tri, of my very first Tri, my very first race, and the stepping stone to so much I have accomplished this last year. Friday night my dreams of a glorious, ass-kicking swim were shot down. A sudden algae bloom in the lake closed it to all swimming. When I got the email friday night I actually cried. I was going to totally own the swim. I wanted to prove to myself just how far I had come in the year since I crawled out of the water, dead last, and dead tired, at this very same triathlon. And some blue-green slime crushed my plan. I was angry and disappointed. I ranted and raved, fired off an angry email to the race sponsors demanding my money back, I pouted and moped. Last night, still moping, I made myself get a grip. I told myself to treat it as a good practice brick with transitions and competition thrown into the mix. But I was still mopey.
    This morning I got up, unenthusiastically, made coffee, moped around the house a little, ate, and started hauling my gear to the truck. I was running a few minutes late when I took Joshua off of his stand, checked front tire pressure, fine. Checked rear tire pressure, flat. A flat tire. Fucking perfect. I was already a tad behind schedule, and this was really throwing a wrench into the cogs. But it was this event, this icing on the cake, this new problem compounding an already sucky situation that made everything click. In all my reading, my studying to self coach, I have found that there is a phrase used by Tri coaches, "Keep your head inside the box." This means to focus on the here and now, what is in my control, what decisions I can make to cause a positive outcome, basically keeping my head in the game and not letting myself spaz out over the uncontrollable, what is already done, what I cannot change. This was going to be my practice session of Keeping My Head Inside The Box. I coolly got out my tools to change the tire. I struggled getting the tire off of the wheel, it was stubborn. Time ticked by, I kept at it. Finally the newly inflated tire was back on Joshua, but I was now about 45 minutes later than my planned departure time. I suppressed panic, "Head in the box, head in the box." There was nothing I could do to change the events that had happened, all I could do was move forward.
    On the drive I kept having to rein myself in as my mind began to gibber and run in tight circles, "I'm going to be late. I'm going to miss the start. They won't let me into transition area." Rein it in, "Head in the box." I focused on the here and now, my race, my plan. Regardless of my start time I was still going to pace myself for half-Ironman, not get caught up in the adrenaline of faster, faster, faster. I needed to find my I-can-do-this-all-day pace, stay relaxed, not burn energy on things not in my control, finish the race with plenty of energy left. Head in the box. Spaz out, "I'm going to be late." Head in the box, mentally walk through transition set-up. Spaz out, "I only have $4.65 and the parking fee is $5." Head in the box, they probably take debit cards.
    I got on site 30 minutes before the planned start time. Coolly but quickly unloaded my gear, did a mental check that I had everything since there would not be time to run back to the truck, and headed towards check in. It only took a few minutes to get my packet and bib number, then off to transition. I was pleased to see that I wasn't the only person just getting there. I wheeled Joshua to our rack, there was one spot left, the most excellent end slot which would make it easier to find when I came through transition. I calmly set out my gear, listening to the announcer talking everyone through the revised race situation. I would have extra time, they would not be starting at 8:15. Everything was smoothing out. Head in the box, focus on set up.
    My excitement for the race had returned in full force. I do love race days. I have learned something about myself over the last year, I love to race, get incredibly excited, and yet show up at the start line feeling relaxed, happy and eager. I had plenty of time to warm up a bit before the opening run. Without a swim the venue had changed to a duathlon: run, bike, run. What we triathlete snobs like to call, "A race for people that can't swim." We were only going to run a mile, then on to the bike. I knew that it would be easy to get caught up in the crowd and make it a one mile sprint, which was not in the plan. Head in the box, pace myself easy to warm everything up, and don't trigger an asthma attack. It worked. True, I was in the back half of the pack, but I didn't care.
    Bike transition was smooth and and easy. In no time I had the wind in my face and Freddy Mercury in my head singing, "Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time." I found my pace, my quick cadence, and rode. I did have a few people race past me, their legs pumping hard, and I could see them straining against too hard of a gear. Head in the box, I used my gears as they were meant to be used, to lessen the load on my legs. At one point I was actually a little concerned that I didn't feel like I was cycling hard enough, but my cadence was perfect, and I was shifting to "level the course," I had found my I-can-do-this-all-day pace. It was a fantastic ride, and the 40K went by very quickly. Heading back into the park I went through the series of moves to help my legs transition from the monotonous, circular pedaling, and into running.
    Back into transition, T2. Biking gear off, running gear back on, and heading for the run out. I took it easy, jogging while I adjusted my hydration belt, took a couple of swigs of my homemade, and delicious, energy drink (3 parts sweetened Super Irish Breakfast tea, 1 part unsweetened, organic pomegranate juice, delicious and refreshing). Head in the box, I ran super easy, letting my legs adjust, finding my I-can-do-this-all-day pace.  I ran very well off the bike, and was feeling almost giddy. The 10K went by as easily and quickly as the bike had. It made my confidence in my abilities rise considerably.
     The whole time I was racing today I was impressed with how I had managed to, despite disappointment, anxiety, and a few spaz outs, keep my head inside the box and make the day work for me. I really did pull off my plan of finding my pace, maintaining fuel and hydration, and getting to the finish line feeling great and with energy to burn. Crossing the finish line I felt not only the elation I always feel finishing a race, but a sense of true accomplishment. If everything had gone smoothly and without a hitch, I never would have known just how well I can keep my Head In The Box and not let the little shit defeat me. It was a great race.