They Call it a Comfort Zone for a REASON!!!

I just want to discuss for a minute something in life that gets a bad rap...the comfort zone. Everyone is always encouraged to move out of their comfort zone into uncharted territory. Who the hell came up with THAT idea??? You almost feel like a worthless human being for actually staying in the comfort zone of your life. As if being "comfortable" is a sin.

They call it a "comfort zone" for a reason. It's comfortable. It's safe. It's easy to do. We're experts at the behavior necessary to stay firmly in the comfort zone. Ahh....the comfort zone.

As I was running this triathlon yesterday (yes, for those of you who know me well, we will discuss the use of the word "running" in a minute - no smirking) I started to get really ticked off at those "comfort zone" people. The people that promise personal fulfillment and a sense of overwhelming pride once the comfort zone is successfully breached. What a load of ----!!!!Halfway through this race...no wait...halfway through waiting for the race to start....no, actually the night before...I decided that I want to live, die, and be buried in my comfort zone. I don't know if St. Vincent de Paul cemetery has a "comfort zone" section, but I'm going to look into it pronto.

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Enter the Holy Spirit. Enter that little whisper of love from the Creator that tells me that He is not satisfied with my current state of health. That His love for me is so huge that it can pick me up and carry me unharmed out of the comfort zone into new life. I'm scared, Lord... I don't think I belong here. What if they laugh at me? Worse...what if they look at me with little patronizing smiles, so proud of the fat chick?

Rita, you belong where I send you.

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Ok. Now on to business. I did it. I did my first triathlon.

They really should call it a quad-athlon. The first event for me was actually taking off my sweatshirt and revealing (gasp!!) a less than svelte body clad not in the requisite (or so it seemed yesterday) size 0 wetsuit. I figured a wetsuit was just a no-no for this year and this body. I kept my sweatshirt on until the last possible second, only passing it to my friend Jamie when I absolutely had to. She kept saying, "Aren't you going to take off your sweatshirt now?" I think it was on the top step of the stairs leading to the beach that I actually took it off.

Now to set the scene: A sea of size 0-2 wetsuits. I don't know the male equivalent but I think I saw maybe 2 men and maybe 3 women that didn't look like olympic athletes. FIVE out of 200. I'm feeling so comfortable at this point.

The swim was ok. A logistical mess but ok. The craziest part was trying to get out of the water and RUN in the sand after being tired. Everyone else was, so I attempted a few feet of running, muttered something non-Christian under my breath towards the comfort zone people and made my way to my bike.

The bike ride was beautiful. Beautiful morning, beautiful water. Nice. I tried to forget what was ahead. When we passed spectators or cops directing traffic I had to resist the urge to yell out - "On your knees- pray for me!!" During the ride, I actually pulled off a stellar move - I drank from my gatorade bottle without injury. Something that with my feet clipped in I had been reluctant to try during training. I know that people do it all the time but I was always nervous. Just when I'm feeling like a real biker, this young whippersnapper pedals alongside me and slowly passes. He reaches back to the pack behind his seat, UNZIPS it, takes out a Gu energy thingy, bites off the tab, chugs the Gu, puts the garbage back in the pouch and ZIPS it closed without missing a beat. I think I imagined the turn of the head in my direction and the "nah nah nah nah nah" but just the same I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to talk to the Lord about His timing.

I got changed into my running (no smirking, I said!!!) shoes and off I went, feeling on top of the world. That feeling lasted appoximately 5.2 seconds when my muscles in effect said to me, "Excuse me? Pardon? You want us to RUN? Think again, sister!! And for trying to trick us, we're not even going to let you walk!" OH MY GOSH! I knew it was going to be hard, and I had even practiced a little for it but AUUGGHH!

That's when I started to plan how I was going to cheat. The run was a series of loops. All I had to do was turn around when Rebecca (who was now smoking me in the running) passed me, thereby shortening the first loop. The long-forgotten incidents of similar cheating during childhood swim practices came flooding to mind with a smile and glimmer of hope.

Rita, you belong where I send you.

Rats. What would be the point of all the mental and physical yuckiness up to this point if I cheated? I was having a hard time being the walker in a sea of runners but I'd have a REALLY hard time being a cheater in a sea of finishers. Darn darn diggity darn!!!!!!!! I guess I have to do the whole thing.

During the run, I passed this bystander woman who I have to mention here - she was tall, pencil thin, and was doing her "workout" walk (without breaking a sweat, mind you) on the board walk. She had perfect Jersey girl big hair piled on top of her head and y'all, she had on pink frosty lip gloss. I am running in Target shorts, a Texas t-shirt with two large boob water stains, and hair flying every which way. She has on pink frosty lip gloss. How DARE she! I almost considered a short detour to just push her off the boardwalk and into the sand below. It would have felt so good. I mean, really good.

But I didn't have time to really dwell on her for that long because here came a man running with his 8 year old son. They zipped pass me. An 8 year old zipped. The 38 year old just made a mental note to add this to her blog. There are really no words to add.

As I was doing the 3 miles, a curious phenomenon occured. I'm sure someone will read this and call the American Psychiatric Society to do a case study. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, which is common in a near-death experience such as this, my food life flashed before my eyes. With every labored step, memories of junk I've eaten came to mind. The fried ice cream I made for my neices's birthday 4 years ago, the bag of doritos I ate on a class trip in '92 (though taking 30 crazy inner city kids to Liberty Science Center would give anyone the green light for emotional eating), the late night bowls of ice cream, all came like a parade of fat through my mind. If only I hadn't eaten this or that, the run would have been easier. Do you know I remembered what flavor cupcake a kid brought for his eighth birthday party 10 years ago? I don't know the kids name any more but I sure remembered that cupcake!!! A strange phenomenon indeed.

So, regarding the word "running" as it is used in this post - I did try. But for the first mile my legs were really adamant and wouldn't budge. After that I decided I would try to run/walk. When to run? The easy answer...when passing spectators and cameras. So if you ever see a picture of me in this race, my shoulders are back, my stride is long, and my arms are in perfect form. Two minutes later, I am hunched, staggering, and praying for death. I think all told, I probably ran a mile?! Or less - I'm not sure. But I did run the last part to the finish line.

Ah...the finish line. My friends Jamie and Sean were there, as well as Rebecca. She had already finished, changed, and had a hearty breakfast but bless her heart for being at that finish line. Everyone cheered and it felt great. Jamie's dog Zeus was even holding a sign with my name on it. Ok, it was supposed to be on his back (love you, Jamie!) but it was in his mouth instead. The meaning was still fully felt.

I wish that I had more funny stories to write about here. But I'm still recovering from what I will call Comfort Zone Extraction. It's painful - there's no doubt about that. But when all is said and done - the Holy Spirit never lets you down. When He whispers the message of love, He means it and He always backs it up if you can hang in there with Him. Thank goodness He has higher hopes for me.

What's next?