confessions of an age-grouper

If we can do triathlon, we can do all

kinds of crazyeven the kinds that
scare us senseless. By holly bennett
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hunter king

ALMOST
FEARLESS

Whats something that scares you? I mean really,

really scares you? Personally, I like to think of
myself as fearless. And most of the time thats not an
exaggeration. Ive traveled the world mostly solo, after
allsomething many of my friends are amazed by.
Apparently fear of the unknown is a big one for a lot of
folks; I just look at jaunts to foreign lands as opportunity
and education. I like to be flung far afield and left to my
own devices to explorethats how some of my best

content develops. And in countless runs

through Third World villages and jungle
trails, or rides on alien roads, Ive never
once felt afraid. Lost and confused maybe, but for sure lacking fear.
Socially, although at times Im shy,
you can put a challenge in front of me
and Ill darn sure be brave. Ill approach
anyone (especially on a dare); the more
random and strange the better. And Im
undaunted by language barriers; theres
always some way to communicate with
another human being, and who cares if
you embarrass yourself with the effort?
You get the picture. Im ready to tackle any mountainbe it physical or psychologicalno matter how formidable.
Or, maybe not.
In a sprint-distance race early this season, for the first time since my first ever
triathlon 16 years ago, I had a full-blown
panic attack during the swim that nearly caused me to call for a kayak escort
straight to the did not finish line. The
swim was a whopping 800 meters, the
kind where youre practically done as
soon as you get wet. But it was freezing
cold, and I, not taking the race too seriously, failed to warm up. Plus I was in a
wave of women and first-timers, so even
though Im a slow swimmer I figured I
should start smack in front, not wanting to get tangled in the rookie ruckus.
The gun went off and I sprinted 1520
strokes before the shock of the cold water
and my skyrocketing heart rate caused
me to hyperventilate. Ruh-roh. I started
to dog paddle. I could barely breathe. I
was convinced my wetsuit was strangling me. Claustrophobia kicked in. I
was freaking out. Will I even make it out
of the water, I wondered, while staring
at the itty-bitty batch of buoys remaining
in front of me? Of course it was all in my
head; like most fears, they fester there.
Heck, I probably could have walked the
swim course; I doubt the water was even
that deep. But fear held me in its grip for
a good five minutes before I could calm
down, take a few Zen-like breaths and
continue.
Granted, that was a one-off fright-fest.
But Ill cop to another fear: acrophobia.
Ive got it, and bad. This wasnt always
the case. My mother loves to tell the story
of how, as a mere 3-year-old, I was fearless on the high dive. My father would
take me to the Olympic-size pool at the
university where he was a graduate student and I would repeatedly clamber up
the ladder and barrel off, a baby bundle
of daring, into the water (and my fathers
waiting arms) below. But fast-forward
to high school when I jumped from a
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bridge into a river and landed badly, resulting in a rescue and several bruised
ribs. Since then, me and heights? Forget
about it. At 46 years old Im finally to the
point where I can dive off the block at
Masters, something we do for our final
sprints on speed session days. The starting block is, what, 2 feet off the ground?
The first time our coach told us to get
up there, I slinked out of practice early,
then struggled with a day-long bout of
depression, angry with myself for being
unable to do something that seems so
effortless (and enjoyable) to others. The
next few times, I dove in from the pool
deck. Finally one day, forcing myself
to feel courageous, I crawled up on the
block and, knees knocking with anxiety,
tipped myself over into the water. It was
more of a belly flop than a dive, but no
matterI had put a dent in my fear.
They dont always make sense, the
things that cause us to freak out. Some
phobias are based on cause and effect
(like my accident-based fear of heights)
but others are completely absurd. I
mean, Ive swum in ridiculously rough
swellraces in which the swim has
been optional or on the brink of being
cancelled altogetherand Ive reveled
in the watery chaos. Ive been held under far too long for comfort while surfing, only to head back out for the very
next wave. Yet I panicked in a perfectly
calm (albeit cold) little lake during an
entirely undaunting triathlon swim.
Thats why I like our sport so much
because life does have irrational aspects,
and I believe triathlon helps us navigate
them. The sport in itself is pretty crazyI
mean what sane person would set out to
swim, bike and run in rapid succession?
Yet we do it, time and again, and not
only does it end up being an awful lot
of fun, for some reason it just feels right.
And it empowers us. I mean cmon, Ive
done an Ironmansurely I can bungee
jump or skydive? Maybe thats a bit extreme for someone who not too long ago
stepped up on her first swim start block,
but someday soon I might head back up
that high dive ladder. Because its only
the leap itself thats scarya leap of faith
into an uncertain landing. And isnt that
the exact fear we conquer each time we
toe a start line, the conquest ultimately
fueling us to the finish or calming us
down mid-course, should we freak out?
Sure, some landings, like some races,
are smoother than others. Some of them
do actually hurt. But they pretty much
all end up A-OK. So heres to being (almost) fearless. Care to join me on the
high dive?