Mark’s turning 40 next month. Yep, my young hubby is growing up. For years he’s had the dream of doing a triathlon. So as a way to celebrate his new decade he decided he would participate in Boise’s 70.3 Ironman.

 

I was thrilled. I love triathlons – watching them, that is - but I’ve never considered doing one myself. I have this issue with open water swimming.  The idea of not seeing what is lurking below me kind of freaks me out.

Growing up in the south, I heard urban legends of water skiers landing in beds of water moccasins who aggressively attacked the unsuspecting skier. I know – horrible. What if I swam through one of those? Oh and let’s not forget Jaws! No need to say more on swimming in the ocean.

However, Mark wanted me to train and do a triathlon. I was touched he wanted me to share in his dream with him but still unsure. He has a way of wearing me down, uh, I mean convincing me to do things I otherwise thought were impossible and I finally agreed.

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Mark is turning 40 this year and to celebrate it, he made it his goal to complete an Ironman 70.3 triathlon - a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike and a 13.1-mile run. Being the supportive wife that I am, I offered to watch him do it. But he had other plans. He asked if I’d train with him to do one. Uh…

After reviewing my vows, I realized that I had agreed to support him in “sickness” and even though he didn’t agree that this was an illness. So I told him I’d think about do a triathlon but on a much smaller scale.

Our local YMCA has a triathlon team that meets throughout the week, offering swimming and running clinics and bike rides, all for beginners to the elite. One by one my family joined the team...Anastasia, Mark, Noah. I watched their practices from afar and cheered the kids on at few local children’s triathlons. From the sideline, I began catching the tri-bug.

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Our kids participated in a triathlon camp this summer at our local YMCA and loved it. Now they are sold on it and are training for a kid's triathlon that's coming up in a couple of weeks.

Yesterday I did a bike ride with them after school. Noah, our 10-year-old, wanted me to take my road bike because it has a “speedometer” on it. Periodically he’d ask about our speed and distance. He seemed content that we were averaging 10mph, however, each time I looked back at them, both kids appeared to be on a leisure stroll, not a training ride. So I asked if we should bump it up to 12mph or more.

“No, I don’t think I go that fast,” he spouted. Noah is our conservative child. His mind was telling him to keep it safe but I knew he could handle it. So I did the obnoxious mom thing and gradually began upping the pace 10, 11, 12 mph...looking back periodically to see how they were doing. I kept us there for a few minutes and checked again – they still appeared to be on a joy ride.

“How you guys doing?”

“Great!”

“We’re going 15 mph!”

“No way!! I didn’t think I could go that fast!” Confidence was building and it shown in his eyes.

Numbers can be intimidating. They give us a concrete goal that we either do or do not meet. They can inspire us to push our self beyond old limitations. At the same time, they can also paralyze us if the hurdles before us are too daunting. Doubt takes over and it pollutes our vision and it's hard to move forward.

God didn’t create us for mediocrity. Jesus told us we’d do greater things than He. But, there is wisdom found in realistiic goal setting. Growing up, I wanted to be the first female, professional soccer player but my genes thwarted that one. Just because we want to do or become something doesn't necessarily make pursuing it a wise use of our time and effort.

How are we to balance goals that lead us to the greatness God created us for without misleading ourselves?

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The day before our 70.3 mile triathlon in Boise,Idaho, my friends and I walked past the official finish line. A great white arch with a digital timer and spotlights was to be the ending point for 1200 athletes brave or insane enough to attempt the race. Glimpsing the official finish line sent chills up my spine and caused my stomach to rise immediately into my throat. The finish line symbolizes success. And before a race, no athlete really knows for sure if they'll cross it. No one knows if they, hands raised in victory, will get their photo op. No ones knows what will happen. There are simply no guarantees. Months of hopes and dreams could easily be destroyed. Any number of things can go wrong: cramps, dehydration, inadequate nutrition, a bike crash, hypothermia, random collapse....

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