As one stands on the beach watching the waves swell and crash aggressively to shore on the morning of a triathlon, there are two ways of looking at what’s coming: Worry about how much water you’ll swallow on the swim and how much your legs will scream at the headwind on the bike, or smile with anticipation for how breezy and cool the run will be. As I shivered in my wetsuit at the start line of the Big Foot Triathlon in Lake Geneva on Sunday 28, I opted for the latter. A good attitude never hurt anyone—especially someone setting out to swim 0.9 miles, cycle 24.8 miles and run 6.2 miles.

Photo: Brightroom.com

The event pros at RAM Racing put on this race every year. Folks could compete in the Olympic or Sprint distance and could also join up with other athletes to make a relay team—with part of each race entry fee going toward the Foundation for Retinal Research. When I asked Beth Salinger of RAM Racing for her post-race thoughts, she said the story of the day was one of the relay teams. “It was made up of three kids who were all affected by a retinal disease and were losing or had lost their sight. They had assistants with them. It was really exciting to see them all cross the finish line together with big smiles on their faces.”

Beyond helping the FRR charity, RAM Racing finds other ways to infuse this race with good karma. I was floored by the amount of loot bestowed upon race participants. It was like Christmas morning for fitness nuts! Not only did we receive a triathlon bag (a large backpack with special pockets and zippers for every imaginable piece of race day gear), a bright blue running visor, and a happy-hued green towel, but we were also treated to a gratis pasta dinner the night before the race and a hot pancake breakfast at the finish line (mmm).

But the awesome race swag wasn’t on my mind as I stepped into Lake Geneva on Sunday morning. I was taking even, deep breaths and trying to find my Zen place as I entered the turbulent water. Fortunately for weak swimmers like me, the first fourth of the out-and-back swim course along the shoreline was in water so shallow that you could touch your feet to the bottom and walk. While I didn’t want to waste leg energy by plowing through the water on two feet (I may not be a fast swimmer but I was there to swim, wasn’t I?!), it was comforting to know the option was there. The swim felt long and I never got into a rhythm. I got tossed around quite a bit. But I never freaked out. I survived. So, for me, it was a big victory.

The transition area was a short jog from the swim exit so I had just enough time to unzip my wet suit by the time I arrived at my bike. After a painfully lackadaisical transition in the Trek Women’s Tri in Naperville a couple of weekends ago, I was determined to bring my A-game to this part of the race: Slip on socks, velcro on bike shoes, grab sunglasses, clip on helmet, run for the exit…two minutes and 32 seconds later I was on the road. Within seconds I realized that my bike’s speedometer was on the fritz, but that may have been a blessing in disguise because I might’ve been pretty discouraged by my slow bike pace. Even though I tackled the Udder Century earlier this month and have been putting in lots of time in the saddle, I still deflated like a sad little balloon as soon as I encountered the hills and that wind. But it was wonderful to ride on open roads without breaking for pedestrians, dog walkers and inline skaters like I do on mornings I hit the lake path. The figure-eight course took us through beautiful farm country, over rolling hills and up and down steep climbs. With the wind at our backs in the final miles, we couldn’t help but end on a high note.

Back in transition I ditched my bike, jammed my feet into my running sneakers, pulled a hat on and headed into the woods for a two-loop trail run winding through Big Foot State Park. That wind I’d looked forward a couple hours earlier did indeed rustle through the trees and I was grateful for the breeze as I clambered over roots, rocks, grass and mud. I have an unfortunate history of ankle sprains dating all the back to high school, so I made sure to step gingerly and carefully over the uneven terrain, but by the second loop I felt more comfortable with the woodsy path and was able to soak up the scenery surrounding me while picking up my pace.

I ran through the finish line with a big smile on my face and without looking down at my stopwatch (a first for me!). I hadn’t logged any personal records out on the course. I knew my bike and run were shaky. But I pushed myself the entire time and, best of all, I had a ton of fun out there. When the wind blows a finish line–feeling like that your way, it’s easy to forget how, a few minutes earlier, the same wind tossed you around in the water and whipped against you and your bike.