Try & tri-again
The finish line

• Support throughout race gives novice strength to finish

By Katherine Nichols
Advertiser Staff Writer

Katherine Nichols crosses the finish line at Sunday's Niketown Na Wahine Sprint Triathlon as the first-place winner. For her and many other contenders, the race was not about placing, but about setting and achieving goals outside their realm of comfort. Jeff Widener • The Honolulu Advertiser

The Niketown Na Wahine Sprint Triathlon was under way, and it was not just a race. For 12 weeks, Vicki Viotti and I had alternated writing columns about preparing for the challenge and exploring people's abilities to set goals outside their realm of comfort. Vicki had never completed an event like this and wasn't sure she could finish.

After a new full-time job, five months recovering from a badly broken big toe and a year of turmoil, my goal of again finishing in the top three at times felt like little more than an opportunity for humiliation. When I began to excavate my soul, I wondered if I would I find what I needed. Or would I shy away from the pain? And if I did, what did that mean for future objectives — in sports or otherwise? Because almost every goal has some measure of pain involved.

So Vicki and I had our personal reasons for being there. As did everyone else.

Deborah Tom, the mother of three sons and a part-time physical therapist at Kapi'olani Medical Center for Women and Children, grinned after the race and said, "I'm going to live, eat and breathe in my (commemorative) T-shirt." The 39 year-old recalled that as a child, she was one of the last kids chosen for teams.

How does a big goal change your vision of yourself and your future? "You can do things that you don't necessarily think you can do, if you just set your mind to it." Tom said. Then paused.

"Now you're going to make me cry," she said softly. She nodded, finally unashamed to admit it: "This is a huge accomplishment."

Performance coach Brad Yates says it's essential to "debrief" after you have executed any major undertaking, whether it's a speaking engagement or a sporting event. "Debrief means that you go over what's happened, you really emphasize the positive and make sure that gets recorded," Yates said. "You capture all the good feelings related to what you did well. You recognize there are things you can do better, but you don't hold onto to any feelings that take away from your ability to be at your best."

The result? "Good feelings get recorded that affirm your self-esteem and your ability to come through under pressure."

For me, the good moments stand out. But they are not the only memories of Sunday.

The gun sounds, and I know that with people like Susan Burr in the race, I can't back off for a minute. The winner of the 30-35 age group in Kona's Ironman triathlon last year, Burr swims in the lead group, which I trail. The swim was once my strength. Now I find myself swallowing silty samples of Kane'ohe Bay. A recent interview with a research associate conducting water quality testing here assaults my consciousness. What were those results?

Up the ramp to the transition area, blinded by the orange sun beginning to rise. Helmet finally on my head, I set off on my bicycle, passing one woman immediately. How many besides Burr still ahead of me? Labored breathing. Kane'ohe Bay draining from my nose. One hill. Are they getting closer? Do I have it in me to close this gap?

Another hill, even steeper. Pass one woman. Pass another. Burr's bright yellow suit still faint and washed out in the distance. Second loop. More hills. Quadriceps ablaze. Lungs searing. Will I make it through the run? I push those thoughts away as I push my body. The time is now. Opportunities are few. And they don't stick around.

Yellow right in front of me now. The steepest part of the hill. Her breathing as loud as mine. I hesitate. Then pass. We do not look at each other. "Good job," I gasp aloud. She responds in kind. Always amid the pain and rivalry and desire to win, there is life afterward. And with all women who compete against each other, there is friendship and mutual respect. Each elevates the other's performance.

And we both know the race is not over.

Bonus: No clumsiness in transition to run. Unfathomable ache in my lower legs. Paying price for a hard ride. Paying dearly. Turn corner. She's there, striding out, appearing stronger than I feel. Looking back a bad idea, I decide. Just dig. One mile marker. Is that all? Profanity bounces in my brain but does not exit my mouth. That would take too much energy.

Finally! A visible finish line. One glance back. Burr's arms pumping, in sprint mode. You've made it this far, I tell myself. See it through.

I do.

After setting so many goals and experiencing the requisite failures that come with rebelling against barriers, I relished what I consider a success. Not because I won. But because, like Vicki, I faced and overcame my fears.