“Do Something Different!” – FIT IS A FEMINIST ISSUE
Recently, I tried finding Valentine’s Day cards to give to friends. But everywhere I looked, it was only romantic love that the cards celebrated. Today, I urge readers to reach out to a friend they love. This blog is for my friend Sarah, whose story I tell here (with her permission).
Sometimes, coarse, grey yarn and shimmering, golden threads are strangely woven together in the tapestry of our lives. Sarah’s 2024 was like that – a sad year of marriage breakdown unspooling alongside a year of tremendous achievement and growth.
When Sarah told me, in the fall of 2023, that she had won a lottery spot in the Escape from Alcatraz triathlon, June 2024, I said something along the lines of, “Are you sure?” By which I meant, “Are you out of your mind?” The triathlon is notoriously difficult—the swim in particular. Competitors jump off a boat in the San Francisco Bay into waters that are very cold (average temperature on race day, 55 degrees Fahrenheit) and gripped by strong currents. Men in grey suits (great white sharks) are hanging around. San Francisco’s famous fog can roll in, reducing visibility to zero.
Imagine this on race day: nothing but black, cold waves and a blanket of grey mist hanging over them.
And this was the triathlon Sarah chose to tackle as her first (after warming up with a Try-Tri). A torn ACL in the spring of 2023 had interrupted her running program, and, with the blessing of an orthopedic surgeon who let her know she could train without one, she considered the triathlon. She had enjoyed riding bicycles as a child, and swimming as well. How hard could it be?
As anyone who remembers clipping into the pedals of a road bike for the first time or completing their first open water workout, training for a triathlon is a very tricky thing, indeed. So many new skills to learn! So much gear! So many fears to overcome! Sarah discovered that she was a terrible swimmer. She found an instructor who would yell, when she made the same mistake repeatedly, “Do something different!”
“Do something different!” became a way of confronting the mental anguish that was accompanying Sarah on her journey toward the San Francisco race. The wrecked ACL was a reminder of a marriage tearing itself apart, the injury that was not going to heal. But that did not mean there was no path forward. The question was: how to find it?
Sarah found it in the cold waters of the San Francisco Bay, ten days before her race. She had attended a clinic a week earlier, where the excruciating pain of the cold water and limited visibility had brought on a full panic attack. Somehow, she pulled herself out of the bay into the Zodiac, that day. Now she was back, with a different instructor, who walked Sarah through the body’s response to the cold and taught her how to breath and stroke in the rough waters. There was a way to get to shore. Kelly taught Sarah how to do something different, just in time.
The weekend before Sarah competed in San Francisco, we swam together in Lake Tuc-el-Nuit here in the Okanagan Valley. We circled the pylons set up for a race the next day, and then we circled them again. The hills around us were bathed in late afternoon sun. It was a beautiful day for an open water swim. It was a beautiful day for a workout with a friend. I could see the confidence in Sarah’s easy stroke. I followed her lead.
On June 10th, the currents racing through San Francisco Bay were the strongest on record for that day. But Sarah had already navigated the dark water in her mind and the dark water in the bay, and she was ready. “Trust the training,” she told herself as she jumped from the ship deck.
And Sarah did her training proud, that day.
Three months later, she separated from her husband and moved into a new home. Three months after that, she completed a 70.3 in Mexico.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Sarah! Your friendship is precious to me.
With love and admiration, Alison
