7

Picked and Found

I am the visiting teacher of a woman who races triathlons. My current visiting teaching companion is from Russia. Sunday was our first visit with the racer.

"So, why do you do these races?" the Russian asked. "Do you win a medal or something?"

"No, I just qualify for more races. It's stupid," said the racer.

"No! No! It's good to have dreams. It's good to do things like that," said the Russian.

The racer just smiled.

Years ago, I found and began following the blog of another woman who does ultra cycling and running. Even she admits she doesn't always know why she does some races. She cycles across countries and runs up mountains all around the world. She even rides in snow. She feels most at home in wide open spaces, likes to take photos of the beauty she encounters, wants to push herself to discover her limits, and enjoys writing about her experiences. My friend the racer told me once, "It's the only thing that makes me feel good."

"You inspire me," I told her, because she does.

Last Saturday, my racer friend thought nothing of riding her bike for 100 miles (including up Immigration Canyon) and running 8 miles. That was a regular training day. Her dream is to qualify for the World Championship Ironman in Hawaii. She's come very very close to qualifying in the past-- I think she said she was only three points away. This December, she'll try again at a triathlon in Mexico.

"I'm lucky if I can get up our hills in the neighborhood when I ride my bike," I said.

The racer smiled and looked understanding. "There are some tough ones here."

Today, I walked past the racer's house. She just happened to be leaving at that moment and was dressed in exercise clothes. She was wearing clogs, not bike shoes or sneakers, so maybe she was going swimming.

"Hi!" I said.

"Hey," she said.

"I'm walking to the post office. It's good for me. It's my kind of exercise."

"Awesome!" she said. I think she meant it.

I felt a little silly and maybe even stupid with the wind blowing strongly and the dark clouds gathering. Then I thought about the blogger who races in all kinds of weather. I could be my kind of tough. I walked faster than usual down the hill to the post office. On the way home, I climbed through rain and hail and enjoyed finding a few things. Walking up that hill has never felt easier.