anxiety attack

left my apartment saturday morning at 7AM, picked up a friend, and drove south on a nearly empty Interstate 35 south toward kyle, texas.

my triathlon traininers planned a mock triathlon at and around the park at five mile damn.

after half an hour on the road, we exited kyle. a typical small texas town, kyle has an old west type of downtown, the major edifices--businesses, banks, city buildings--wood framed and quaint. there was a group of politicos out at that early hour holding bold-fonted election signs for their preferred candidates in front of one central voting center.

we left downtown almost as quickly as we had entered and found ourselves driving along farm roads, green fields on either side of us, bright wildflowers sprouting along both sides of the street. enormous homes enjoyed acres of land. herds of white goats grazed and frolicked in fields under the watchful eyes of a shaggy sheep dog.

the park was beautiful and green, the water from the damn looked peaceful enough, but i could feel my levels of anxiety rising. i set up my bike and change of clothes in the designated transition area, participated in nervous chatter with my fellow trainees. soon we were wading into the water. it was clean and not too cold. looking down, i saw a small fish dart in front of me.

we were supposed to swim to the end of the dam and circle back to complete a half of a mile. but i couldn't see the end. i knew that i had swum the equivalent of half of a mile in the pool where we had been training, but it's much easier to wrap your head around a certain number of laps. there were no lap markers in this open body of water.

so i swam and swam. slowly. for a short while i was keeping pace with a flock of ducks. (they eventually pulled over on land to walk around and, i assume, rest from their swim!). but i kept looking up, trying to figure out how much longer i had to go. the way back was easier. i felt i could better gauge the distance.

i emerged from the water tired, but dutifully made my way to the transition area and tried to pull a sports bra and bike shorts over my wet bathing suit, a t-shirt over that. i tied my shoes and hopped on the bike. i was a little unclear about the path. the trainers told us where to turn, but there were no markers. i was convinced that i was lost most of the way until i saw people returning from the direction i was heading.

the sun was rising and hot, and i had too many layers of clothes on. i sacrificed my modesty at the six mile mark, stripping off my shirt. despite feeling cooler, the last six miles of the ride were brutal. i could handle the hills and the gravel-y roads, but the wind blew so strongly that i felt i was scarcely moving forward. i arrived at the park again exhausted.

somebody threw a packet of power bar gel at me to swallow before my run, but the idea of eating gel grossed me out. i decided to go with gatorade. parked my bike and began to run. the slowest run. came to intersections--forks in the road--and couldn't remember which way to turn. i made my best guess and ran, hating the dual feeling of exhaustion and disorientation.

sure enough, one of the trainers came riding along and yelled, "jennifer! turn around! you're going the wrong way! turn around!" turn around?

at this point, the friend who had joined me that morning was providing moral support, riding alongside me while i ran and offering me sips of gatorade.

but apparently i needed more than moral support. my breath became increasingly short. and my frustration got the best of me. i felt tears streaming down my face as i ran.

my friend asks me, "why are you crying?"

"because i hurt!"

"where?"

"every where! and i can't. breathe."

"then stop running!"

that made sense. i stopped. we pulled over to the side of the road. and she instructed me to breathe. and so i did. breathe.
we walked back to the park.

drove away tired and hungry. grumpy. feeling defeated.

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