I Quit A Race. Am I Un-American?

This morning was the Bangs Lake Multisport Festival, where I registered to do an aquabike --  a 1.5k swim and a 38k bike. I call it Sara's God's Gift to Racing because I don't train on the run well.

As I wrote yesterday, I was totally unprepared for the race but decided to go anyway. I even thought deeply about it, writing that I do races because of motivating factors such as my mother's health problems.

Well, that's deep 'n' shit, but I found out the real reason this morning: they're fun. I could get my health kicks doing myriad physical activities, but you don't get up at 4 a.m. and hit the water before 7 without some enjoyment in the competition and accomplishment.

Lest you get the impression I skipped through the race with a smile on my face and determination this morning, the truth is I chose to only do the swim and ... not finish the race.

GASP! I feel so un-American. Who quits a race? I should be writing about how visions of my mother in pain inspired me to grit through my own mental block and how I knew that I'd feel shitty with a big ol' DNF (did not finish) next to my name in the race results. I should tell you that the pep talks talking to my fellow-athlete friends this week worked.

To a degree they did -- after all, I did show up after weeks of doubt.

I think the decision was technically made for me before I went to Italy, when I realized how far off my training goals were and knew I'd never catch up. When I chose to order three courses at dinner for two weeks and walk around sampling gelato three times a day in lieu of swimming, biking and running (and no, my bike tour through Tuscan countryside -- a clever way of sampling wine and olive oil -- didn't count), I knew I wasn't setting myself up for success this season.

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I thought was, I don't want to do this -- not in a dreadful way, but in a I-don't-care kinda way. The only dreadful thing I could think of was trudging through a race I knew I was capable of doing better.

So why did I even show up? And why did I confirm my registration this week -- already in full-on doubt mode -- after a snafu showed I hadn't yet been charged for the race?

It's because I'm an optimist and have it engrained in me that you should never, ever quit unless it's absolutely necessary. Broken appendages. Malaria. A death in the family the day before. I can't say all the athletes I hang around are hard-core, but they fall into the give-it-your-all group. Heck, even when I say I do races for fun, part of that fun is knowing I've done what I can to put in a good showing, even if only for myself.

People who don't quit are celebrated. People who do quit? I'm guessing they generally don't talk about it unless they have one of aforementioned good excuses.

I'm actually proud of decision because I know this one race doesn't make or break me, just like this off-season of sorts doesn't ruin my chances at future success. But am I afraid a potential client or employer or athletic compadre will read this and think of me as a quitter, someone who can't get over a mental hurdle? Absolutely, even if I have a thousand reasons to defend my decision and character ("I was exhibiting signs of malaria." J/k).

On the shuttle bus to the race start, a cheerful woman sat next to me and asked, "So, are you ready?"

"Actually, no!" I replied. "I haven't really trained, so we'll see how this goes."

"Me too!" she said. "But after all, you do it for fun, right?"

Absolutely. And that's why I will NOT be hopping on that bike, I thought.

I had fun giving it my all at the end of the swim because I knew I didn't have to conserve energy or breath for the bike. I had fun looking down at my watch to see I shaved two and a half minutes off my time. And I had fun packing up my transition area knowing I didn't have to do that hilly ride!

See?  A good time was had by all.