The First of Very Small Steps
Sunday, October 08, 2006

It's been said that courage is simply the accumulation of small steps.

Right now, this is a heartening sentiment. Because almost one month ago today, I committed myself to something that's going to take a whole lot of courage: completing -- and competing in -- an Ironman. Ironman Wisconsin. Otherwise known as IM Moo. September 9, 2007.

It's been a lot of small, disjointed steps that have gotten me to the starting point of this journey that I'm about to embark on, not all of which I'm probably even aware of. But I can tell you exactly where the turning point was -- that blip in time separating a before, and an after.

Before. It was the second weekend of September 2005. An oppressively hot and muggy Saturday night. Drinks on the patio of the Flatiron Tavern in Madison with two friends. They reveled in the afterglow of having completed a sprint triathlon that day, and talk inevitably turned to Ironman Wisconsin, taking place the very next morning.

The three of us were in agreement: Doing an Ironman? Crazy. Insane. Impossible. No way, Jose. What, by god, would posses anyone to do such a thing? Crazy. Insane. Impossible.

After. The next afternoon, after completing a (lengthy for me, at the time) six-mile run in blistering heat and feeling proud of my accomplishment, I walked up to the Capitol square to watch the Ironman bike-to-run transition. I expected to see ripped, superhuman athletes pushing themselves further than the average person could ever conceive of doing. And I did.

But I also saw so much more.

I saw average people -- teachers and computer programmers, young and old, thin and portly -- in the midst of accomplishing something they might have never before dreamed of. I saw athletes cheering on athletes. Bystanders cheering on strangers -- sometimes running along with an athlete they didn't even know because he or she looked like they needed an extra lift. I saw a dad, who didn't see his family in time, turn around and run back to hug and kiss every one of them before continuing on the run. I saw all that is good in people playing itself out on this one day in this one race.

Standing alone in a sea of people on a hot summer day watching this, I got chills ... and then I cried.

And then I felt immensely silly.

It was, after all, just a race. And I'd been in races before. I was no stranger to downhill ski races and road races and track meets, or to competitions of other sorts, like horse shows. I'd raced slalom, giant slalom, and super-g at the Junior Olympics in Colorado. I'd shown at the American Quarter Horse World Championships. But this...this was altogether different.

Maybe it was the bigness of the Ironman -- the almost-insurmountability of doing it while trying to maintain a job, or a family, or any semblance of a life. Maybe it was the dedication -- not only of the athletes, but of their friends and families -- evident in the signs they held and the pride they exuded. Proud of the fact that they were out there that day, too -- part of the team that picked up groceries or cleaned the house or did any one of a thousand things just like that throughout the year so that their athlete could do the two-hour run or a five-hour bike or both, that had gotten them to that exact moment. Maybe it was all of that combined.

Whatever it was, it stayed with me for 365 days. And this past September -- when I again found myself standing on a noticeably less-crowded sidewalk, on a 50-degree day in a steady drizzle -- again, I got goosebumps. Again, I cried.

The next day, I signed up.

I was one of more than 2,000 people who managed to register before registration for IM Wisconsin closed in a record 45 minutes.

This is a big undertaking. Huge. Crazy. Insane. Almost-impossible.

It was my very first, very small, step...with many more to be taken in the next 11 months.

I'm terrified and nervous and constantly wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into. But I'm also incredibly excited. This is going to be an adventure for me -- and for my team (you know who you are). And I'm so looking forward to taking this ride with all of you.

Posted by Erin 6:34 PM

3 Comments:

1. Anonymous said...
   10/16/2006 5:01 PM
   First of all, good for you for doing this. I know, that even if I trained for three years, I wouldn't be able to do it. Not physcially, and especially not mentally. I'm too much of a quitter. But, I'll be there to watch you cross the finish line. Secondly, why is it that your blog posts are written better than most of my press releases or opeds? You put me to shame. Please stop.
   Unknown said...
   10/16/2006 6:24 PM
   I cry every time I watch too.
   Jane said...
   10/17/2006 7:09 AM
   Huge, yes. Crazy? Insane?? No. You'll tackle this as well as you have everything else along the way. I got goose-bumps (and teary eyes) just reading your posts. I'll be following your progress, as will Liza and Liv. WOW!

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