What’s on Your Bucket List?

Two years ago, I crossed an item off my bucket list when I completed my first triathlon. Something I always wanted to do, I trained for several months, ending the last weeks leading up to race day by biking the ten mile route, jogging the three mile course and swimming laps in the bay. This worked as an effective mental training since I eliminated most unknowns of the course, although the murky water of Oyster Bay still held possible mermaids and loch ness monsters. You can’t see a thing when you’re in there.Well, the day of the race finally came. But not before a few minor setbacks. Unidentified gang members stole our bikes in Fresno, CA on the way home from a cross country road trip, so a friend lent me hers for the day. My new runners refused to break in, so I resorted to wearing my old ones. And the wetsuit I never ordered…never arrived. Definitely will shop ahead of time next time. If there is a …

“Pow!” The start gun sounds off and I dive into the dark waters of Oyster Bay with hundreds of clawing swimmers around me. A kick in the face, a swat of an arm, a ton of swallowed water…all part of the package. My arms persist when my legs grow weary. Stroke after stroke with Dory’s voice pressing me on: “Just keep swimmin, swimmin, swimmin.” Must. Keep. Swimming.

Half an hour later, I see the light at the end of the waterway, a line of cheerers on both sides as swimmers exit the boat ramp, and I am almost there. All I can think is, “I can’t wait to see the faces of hubby and the girls, screaming that phase one is done!” Nothing. No one. Don’t see them at all. Hmmmm? Maybe they’re not here yet? Maybe the water fogged up my brain and I just didn’t notice them? It is crowded.

Next, I throw on my biking shorts and a t-shirt, clasp my helmet, ascend my friend’s bike, and hit the pedal to the pedal. Except that my friend’s bike doesn’t turn as easily as mine did. Wahhh! I wish I had WD40’d the wheels last night. My legs are jello when I reach Morris Hill, the hardest part of the course. I spent the last two practice runs biking up this hill with little effort. Today, I lose steam not even half way up. I dismount the bike before I eat dirt or knock my neighbors into the bushes and walk the rest of the way up. Guzzle the rest of my water bottle, jump back on when I hit the top of the mountain, and peddle with all my remaining might the last four miles of the course.

As I approach the descending zone that marks the end of the bike course, my heart soars because I know for sure my hubby’s smile and my girls’ squeals await me. I brake and walk my bike toward the racks, scanning the cheering crowds. Nothing. No one. They’re no where in sight.

Hmmmm? Maybe they’re over by the snacks. I’ll see them at the finish line for sure.

I park my bike, make a quick port-a-potty stop, then take off with other runners to the third and final portion of the race. I can do this. Shoot! I forgot my gum. Wahhh! I’m only two hundred feet into the run when I realize that I forgot my Trident. I always chew gum when I run. Chewing distracts me. I hate running. I need all the help I can get, and bubblegum works, somehow. I debate backtracking, but know that will add time to my score, so I painfully press on.

Cheers scream from residents parked on their porches and my spirits lift. “Go get’em #97747!”

“Thanks!” Eureka! “Hey, do you guys have any gum?”

“Gum? Sorry. Nope.”

“Hey, how ‘bout you? Do you have any gum? Please! I could really use a stick of gum!”

Then a nice lady, who I owe my life to, jogs toward me with a stick of spearmint in her raised hand. She heard my plea! Energizer battery recharges as I pop the chewy goodness into my mouth; I feel the sugar go straight to my legs. I’m ready to run my heart out. And I do. For the first two and half miles.

During the last half mile, my feet fall asleep. Literally. I cannot feel them. This poses new danger as the final stretch includes ups and downs, the downs moving faster than my mind sees them coming. I am so gonna eat it. Another Eureka moment! I can walk. And I do. For a bit until the feeling returns to my feet.

Now I turn the corner and the finish line, the banner of Glory, lies only five hundred feet away. I jog now. I know I’ll get there. And I’m POSITIVE the family will be there! Ready to hug me as I cross the line. One step at a time. I’m gonna get there.

Just then, a big Latino guy runs up next to me and screams, “COME ON!”

“Come on what?”

“FINISH STRONG!”

“Huh? You go on ahead. I’ll get there when I get there.”
“NOOOO! LET’S DO THIS! SPRINT IT OUT! CROSS WITH A BAM! LET’S GO!”

Are you kidding me? This guy is not taking no for an answer. I take a deep breath, reach down inside of me where that last little ounce of energy hides and wake up all my faculties in order to pummel toward the finish line.

Mr. Go-Getter Dude runs along side me, smiling from ear to ear. My legs feel on the verge of collapse but we’re almost there. Then Mr. Go-Getter Dude pulls the gentleman card from his back pocket and stops two centimeters from the finish line.

“After you.” He motions for me to cross with a smooth sway of his right hand.

“Really?”

“Yes!” And I cross the finish line a second before him, arms in the air. I turn to face him and we give each other high fives, laughing euphorically. WE DID IT!

Where’s my family? Sheesh. I thought for sure they’d be at the finish line. I strain my neck above the crowd. Nothing.

I mosey toward the celebration tents. Bananas and beer await. Beer? Whatever. I chow down on a banana and return to the bikes to find my cell phone. I dial hubby’s number ten or so times. No answer. I can’t lie. I start to cry. Softly to myself. Should I walk home at this point?

I look down at my phone and hit redial for the umpteenth time, when I hear the long awaited squeals of, “MOMMY! MOMMY! She’s over here!”

My eyes raise and I wipe away my tears. But more flow out, and now I’m bawling. They’re here! They’re finally here! “You’re here!”

Hubby strolls two of the girls toward me while my other two run toward me. Hugs all day long! Out of the corner of my eye, I see the roses. A dozen white roses appear from behind the stroller as hubby kisses my tears away.

“You did it!” And then the explanation: “I’m sorry we weren’t here to see you. When I drove from our house to the park, a ton of roads were blocked off for the race. By the time I found parking, we were over a mile away. Then we began our own marathon, trying to get here for you. I’m so sorry we missed it. I really wanted to…”

“You’re here now!” My arms wrap around hubby’s neck. “And that’s all that matters.”

Happens to be my oldest daughter’s ninth birthday. We have a lot to celebrate. We find a great brunch place in Oyster Bay and order fruit-stuffed pancakes and feta-cheese and tomato omelettes. Each table has unique salt and pepper shakers. Cute. As I chew on the day’s events, I hear two words replaying in my head. Mr. Go-Getter Dude’s words: “FINISH STRONG!”

I think of the races ahead for my four girls, hubby and myself, and I say a silent prayer to my Maker: “Lord, thank you for helping me to finish today. Please let these two words be the motto of my family. Oh. And thanks for seeing me cross the finish line!”

**What’s on your Bucket List? Do you have a life motto? What the best post-race meal you’ve eaten?! 🙂