Remembering to Breathe

My wife and I were riding our bikes up the overpass that leads through the La Crosse marsh, and she was having trouble maintaining her momentum.

"Remember what Fred always says, " I yelled back to her.  "Breathe.  Exercise is easier if you remember to breathe."  The look on her face told me that she thought my idea of "help" was beyond being useful, maybe even bordering on stupid.  It wasn't the first time I used those words, and it wouldn't be the last.

 

Last weekend my wife and a friend from nearby Holmen, participated in the Danskin Triathlon series held in Pleasant Prairie, WI.  It was the fourth time Liz has participated in this female-only event, and it turned out to be one of her toughest to date.

Throughout this past summer training period, she had indicated that she was having a hard time getting motivated for this year's race.  In past years, she would swim her forty laps in the high school pool, get out of bed to bike 14 miles, and walk every day or so just to keep up with what was needed to compete in the Danskin Triathlon, now in its 20th year.

This year she missed more Sundays in the pool than ever before, and struggled with getting out of bed and onto her bike. She did, however try running a few laps with me in the morning, and committed to a 5K walk in the Festival Fitness event in May.

Ask any athlete what's the hardest part of playing football, tennis or basketball, and they will mention the training.  Playing the game is tough, but finding the motivation to run, lift weights and shoot/hit 200 shots during practice is especially difficult.  The great athletes not only find new ways to motivate themselves, but challenge themselves to get better year in and year out.

While Liz will never admit to be an athlete, I do remind her that of ALL the people who are 49 years old living in the Coulee region, she is probably in a small percentage who do any kind of exercise, much less train for a triathlon.  Every year we are reminded of heart disease, cancer and stroke, and it gets harder and harder to find time to do things that don't involve stressing out about work, watching television or checking our email messages.

One of the coolest parts of the triathlon is the effort made by the organizers to encourage participation from women of all ages and all abilities.  From "swim angels" who float along with swimmers who are not good swimmers to mentors who provide treatment, recovery and fitness support to cancer survivors (even running the final distance with them, letting them know they can finish).  The race allows people with a variety of athletic skills to participate (in the Elite wave, a woman in her twenties from Muskego, WI finished in one hour eight minutes while a 67 year old female from Milwaukee, WI finished the race in 3 hours 19 minutes).   Watching these women participate in the 1/2 mile swim, followed by 12 miles of biking, then ending with a 3 mile run brings new meaning to the word "effort," and gives me extra encouragement to run my measly eight to ten miles a week.

 

Liz and I have been biking, walking and exercising together for many years, even being so brave as to try Combat Endurance Training for more than two years. Combat endurance training was where we learned to drag each other through snow, heat and humidity (and occasional early, early mornings) to do sit ups, leg exercises, push ups and arm circles.  If ever there was a reason to back down from exercise that was it.

It was during combat endurance training that we met Fred Nicholas, a former karate class instructor who had suffered through two hip replacement surgeries.  He would always have useful information while leading us through the exercises -- among them his "remembering to breathe" comment.  He never missed an opportunity to remind us of how important oxygen was to your body's muscles and lungs when running or riding your bicycle.   And Fred's inspirational messages were a constant whenever we would train for her triathlon, much to her chagrin.

I've been trying -- unsuccessfully -- to get her to try riding her bike up the steep incline of Irish Hill, a twenty five minute climb to the beautiful ridges overlooking the La Crosse Coulee region.  It's a difficult climb that our son and I took earlier this summer.  Climbing hills has always been a tough go for her, but I'm confident that with her training (and ever-present Odgen determination) she could make it to the top.

Standing with our bikes at the base of that hill must feel something like the challenge she encounters as her feet enter the water of Lake Andrea.  With pop music blasting across the man-made lake, her heart pounding in anticipation of the start of the race, she gives her arms one last shake and dives into the turbulent and crowded water.  Months of training come rushing back, helping ease her through the water, one breast stroke after the other.

This is what it means to be 49 years old.  Despite a few gray hairs, a bad knee and increasing aches and pains, she refuses to let age control her life.  This is the age of making the most of what she has been given.  With her swim completed, she dries off, then climbs onto her bike and peddles her way out of the transition area.  With each rotation of the wheel, she accelerates past enthusiastic faces and hands, encouraging her to give it her best.  The hill before her is difficult, but it's nothing she hasn't encountered before.  Shifting into a lower gear, she climbs, quickly leaving all doubts behind.  It's the first of many climbs on her 12 mile trek...

Less than an hour later she is back, drinking from her water bottle and eating an energy bar.  The last and least favorite part of the triathlon is next, a three mile run to the finish line.  With rubber legs and hands numb from riding her bike, she sets off -- swaying left and right.  As she passes her husband, smiling with pride and ringing his cowbell, she hears him shout:  "... every three minutes.  And don't forget to breathe!" and she knows that she can finish the race.

Two hours, twelve minutes and fourteen seconds after she started, she does.