Mistakes

Last week I let my kids have it. I had given them two weeks to practice and study how to spell the word nervous. Two weeks later, only three of them could spell it correctly. After I gathered all the quizzes and saw the results, I asked them if they were upset about it. Then I unleashed some sort of tirade.

But as I pulled up the PowerPoint for that day's lesson, a blaring typo showed up on the screen. Embarrassed and feeling pretty hypocritical, I went in and fixed the error and then continued on. But as I did, I told my kids this: "Everybody makes mistakes. It's how we respond to those mistakes that makes us who we are."

I thought it was a pretty profound thing to say on the spot like that. I'm sure it's been said before. But it stuck with me this week. And it resonated louder than ever as I hustled, struggled, and beast-moded it through my first triathlon this past Sunday.

It was just a sprint triathlon- a 400 yard swim, a 12 mile bike ride, and a 3 mile run. I signed up for it only a week and a half in advance because even though I hadn't been training specifically for a triathlon, I felt like I was in good enough shape to finish and maybe even do well. The only issue in the past that I had been worried about was swimming, but I had been getting better at that. I was pretty confident and felt really good leading up to Sunday.

Aly Gamache joined me as well, and we showed up (bright) and early at Haleiwa Beach Park for the race on Sunday morning. We checked in, got our transition areas ready, warmed up, and headed to the beach for the start of the race. I put my goggles on and waited for the horn. The time had finally arrived for me to show exactly what I could bring to the world of triathlons. But more than a few mistakes loomed in the distance.

Mistake Number One: Preparing for the first leg of a triathlon by only swimming laps in a pool

Training for the 400 yard swimming portion had been a piece of cake. Swimming laps in the calm and quiet Central Oahu Regional Park Pool became an almost nightly ritual. It was becoming more of a stress release, a form of meditation, than a physical endeavor. I had improved my stamina and could do 400 yards in my sleep.

But when that horn sounded, and I was sandwiched between 200 other people who were all frantically swimming for the same five foot buoy 100 yards out, I realized that I hadn't really done all that much to prepare myself. I got clobbered. Limbs everywhere were hitting my face. My legs and feet were grabbed as I tried to kick. Any time I turned my head to breath, my mouth either met a big gulp of saltwater or someone's armpit. So this is it. This is how I'm going to die. I was horrified. For someone who had been so comfortable in the water all his life, I was now in a living hell. Big mistake.

But then I did something different. I smiled. I laughed. I kept swimming. The washing machine of torture that I was trapped in became a water park. When I reached the first turn buoy, it was more frantic than ever because it was at that point that everyone was converging. By strange coincidence, I ran right into Aly, and we both laughed and said how ridiculous the whole thing was. The next stretch wasn't so packed and I even started to pass some people. By the time we turned towards shore, I had a little space and could establish a rhythm. My heart was pounding (more from fear than fatigue) as I scrambled up onto the beach and ran to the transition zone, but I was laughing about how nuts my first swim had been, and how much I had underestimated it.

When you find yourself in a frantic place, don't panic. Try laughing instead and see where that gets you.

Mistake Number Two: Bringing biking gloves to a triathlon

I assumed because I was a guy and I could get ready for anything in a few seconds, the transition from swim to bike wouldn't be something to worry about. I dried my feet quickly, threw on my shoes and socks, and then realized I still needed to put on my running shorts...I was stumbling and bleeding time. Then I grabbed my helmet and got my bike. I started to put on my biking gloves- I thought they might make the ride more comfortable and make me look more legit- but I just felt like everything was taking way too long. It had been a bad idea. So I wheeled my bike out of the transition zone and tossed the gloves back to my spot as I jogged. It was a perfect toss that landed them right on top of my backpack. Nice recovery, I thought.

If something's not working out, there's no harm in dropping it. Just do it with grace.

Mistake Number Three: Riding a mountain bike

Now that the swim was over it was show time. My legs were made for biking. I mounted and began pedaling up Kamehameha Highway for the first of three laps around Haleiwa. I felt great. I was pumping and the wheels were turning at full blast. I'm gonna smoke this course, I thought. I was going faster than ever before. But fast on a mountain bike was still slow compared to any road bike. Going into the race, I knew that I was at a disadvantage with my thick tires, heavy frame, and full suspension. Almost everyone brought a road bike. I'd been on road bikes before and I knew how much faster and more efficient they were on the pavement. But I had no idea it was this bad.

Everyone was passing me. Old guys. Fat dudes. Forty year old women. Left. On your left. Left. It's all I heard. I was pedaling harder than any one of them, but they were all gliding right past me. The hill at the top was the worst, and I thought for a second that maybe I had a flat tire. Nope. Just a slow bike. When we hit the top of the hill and cruised through town, even more people passed me. By the time I reached my second lap, a guy with a real triathlon bike and one of those Tour De France helmets flew past me. He must be a terrible swimmer, I thought, because he had been so far back for so long but looked so strong on the bike. But then I realized that he was in first place and had just lapped me. Discouraged, I kept pedaling hard, harder than I had ever pedaled before. And I kept getting passed.

By the time I finally made it to the transition zone, it was a ghost town. At the time I thought I was near last place. Later I'd find out that I was in that lonely space behind the average triathletes and in front of the slower ones. But at that moment, I thought that I was going to finish last. And it was funny, because it felt like I had just rode harder than ever before. It was like I had just raced the Indy 500 in a golf cart. I ditched my mountain bike with disgust in the empty transition zone and began the run. The playing field was even again, and it was time to make up time.

Don't give up on your deficiencies. Keep working hard and your other strengths will compensate for your shortcomings.

Mistake Number Five: Underestimating a mile of sand

Three miles was easy. I did it almost every night. I could do it backwards if I wanted. It didn't matter how tired I was from the frustrating bike ride. But I wanted more. I wanted to regain the lead over all those who had passed me on the bike who I knew I could outrace. So I stepped it up. The crowds of joggers got bigger and bigger and a lot of people started to see my backside. But I still knew what I'd have to get through before I crossed that finish line.

A mile run through the sand was something I just didn't want to train for. I had tried it once, and it was miserable. I was satisfied with being able to do it at Ala Moana Beach, but that sand was way easier than the stuff up North that I was about to face. When we got to the sand, everything started to hurt. I finally felt like I was burning out. I was sinking. The worst part was that it was a beautiful beach, and the sun was shining bright, so stopping and just lying down in the sand didn't seem like such a bad option. But I had never walked in a race, and I didn't plan doing it then. So I slowed down, took softer steps, and kept on trudging. I was able to rest my calves in some stretches where the rocks were poking out and the ground was more firm. I finally did make it off that beach, and I ran hard through the finish line. One hour and 21 minutes. Not the best time, but not too bad either. And my body felt pretty good.

Sometimes you need to slow down before you can speed up.

It was only a sprint, it was pretty low-key, but it was my first triathlon. Hopefully the first of many. It's no surprise that there were so many mistakes. You make mistakes when you're doing anything for the first time. The truth is that the clock doesn't stop ticking while you stop to dwell on what you messed up on. But like I told my kids, it's how your respond to those mistakes that makes you who you are.

And that makes me so excited for the next race.