Photo via BiG-ShoT's Flickr Page

This weekend, Esteban indulged my farmer's market obsession and agreed to an overnight trip to Madison, home of one of the country's best farmer's markets. We had to go overnight because I have a crazy need to be at the market by 7:00 a.m. to avoid the crowds and the stupid Stop and Talkers that seem to have infiltrated every gathering of people everywhere. When we pulled into our hotel's parking lot, I noticed that there were weirdly a huge proportion of cars with bike racks mounted on the backs, but when we checked in, there was a sign welcoming the participants in the Madison Ironman. It was late, and the hard bodies were nowhere to be seen, and when we left at 6:45 a.m., the cars with the bike racks were already gone.

We made our way to the farmer's market and found rock star parking along a street where all of the meters had bags over them, stating no parking. Lots of cars were parked there already, so we assumed that it must have been leftovers from the previous night. Clearly, we don't think straight that early in the morning. We made our way around the Capitol, scooping up local fruits and veggies, including lots of produce that we just don't have at our own market, which is a crying shame. By the time we had almost completed a lap around the market, Esteban stopped and said, "Uh, maybe we should go...now." I followed his gaze and realized that our car was now the only car remaining on that block. Whoops. What is more, a FINISH LINE had popped up around the car, including a big clock and everything. It was still early, so there were only organizers putting up barricades, but we couldn't stop giggling, feeling like we got caught with our hands in the cookie jar. We quickly stashed our bounty in the car and headed out, weaving our way through the route.

As we passed the lakes, Esteban pointed out the swimming leg of the competition and said, "They look like fish jumping. Brrr...that's got to be cold." The air temperature was hovering around 50 and the water was churning with swimmers, all decked out in black wetsuits, making their way around orange floating buoys that seemed impossibly far apart. I exhaled and watched them go, their arms making perfect Vs up out of the water. It was amazing. The sun started peeking out through a bruised sky and their capped heads looked glossy and sleek. Not just any fish, their elbows cocked at 45-degree angles as they dug through the water, they looked exacly like black sharks. I wanted to stop and watch them. I wanted to BE them. I wanted to slip out of my shoes, drop my jeans and T-shirt in the sand and take off, give it everything I had, just to try to catch them. And that's the moment that I got it, this whole triathlon thing. It really sunk in. The attitude adjustment I was looking for last week? I just might have found it.

It's not about competing. It's not about killing yourself for some random spot in an age bracket. It's about making a promise to yourself and then making it happen. It's about being, for one minute, something more than you are during your every day. It's about going, going, going and then becoming something more. It's about learning what we can accomplish. And it's about time we get started doing that, isn't it?