Modesty

“One piece (triathlon suits) do rock, but your religion will be known by all

spectators, …not for the modest”

                     Jaime Dispenza - coach, mentor, friend. He rocks the one piece

                      with the best of them – as long as the race belt goes in front (at his

                      wife’s request).

There is a point where you just have to say, “Yeah, I know I may look ridiculous,

but so what.”

When I raced Boise it was a small indoor race and was managed in such a way

that you didn’t really see a lot of competitors or people for that matter.

Consequently, embarrassment due to an out of shape body being squeezed into

a non-flattering outfit was kept to a bare minimum, no pun intended. The Beaver

Freezer would be the reverse of that in so many ways.

First off the Beaver Freezer is one of, if not the largest triathlon that begins in an

indoor pool (in fact they utilize two facilities on the campus of Oregon State

University). It always sells out. I registered minutes after it opened up and within

two hours there was a waiting list for participants. If Boise was a very small fire

then the Beaver Freezer was a journey into a very large and sizzling hot frying

pan.

I was nervous about having to wear a tri outfit, particularly the tri bottoms which

didn’t leave much to the imagination. I was overweight, self-conscious, and

embarrassed about what would happen should a cute girl say, “hi”. I was able to

overcome all of this by telling myself that I was two and half hours from home, I

wouldn’t know anyone in the race, and no cute girl in her right mind would say,

“hi” to an overweight fifty year old.

The morning of the race in Corvallis was chilly and foggy. My tri shorts were

covered well beneath incognito sunglasses, a skullcap, heavy sweatshirt, and

baggy fleece sweats. I would be able to wait until the last minute to mortify the

world by stripping down. As I began to set things out in the transition area I

heard from behind me a high pitched and excited voice call out, “Dave! Dave!” I

thought to myself, that’s too funny, someone else named Dave is participating in

this race (not really that surprising, it’s a popular name). I went back to my work

only to hear the voice, a little bit more impatient this time emit the same highpitched,

“Dave!” I thought, what the heck, and turned around. I saw an excited

young girl frantically waving at me from just outside the transition area. It was

Janelle, a student from my school in Bend. I walked over to her, got a hug, and

asked her what she was doing in Corvallis. She happily replied, “I’m here to see

my Dad race in the Beaver Freezer and now I’m watching you race too!”

I calmed my initial fears of mortification and embarrassment by reasoning that

there were so many racers that Janelle’s Dad couldn’t possibly be in my wave. A

large hand slapped my back. “Hi Mr. D! Are you racing soon?” It was Janelle’s

Dad, Drew. My fears became more pronounced when I discovered that Drew

and I were, in fact, in the same wave of the race. “Isn’t that great Dave? We’ll

be able to see you race!”, Janelle squealed. Yeah, I thought to myself, and you’ll

get to see all of me. Probably more than you’d like. Hopefully you won’t need

therapy.

Drew set up next to me and we chatted. Our conversation actually helped me

get through some of the pre-race butterflies I was having. As Drew began to strip

down I realized I had arrived at my Rubicon. There was no turning back. I didn’t

yell out “Aleu lacta est” as Caesar is said to have done, but with a deep breath I

began to remove my clothing. The die had been cast and if there was any hope

of modesty that was quickly crumpled up along with my clothes and jammed into

my transition bag.

Shivering and clad only in a skimpy pair of tri bottoms that left very little to the

imagination I joined Drew, Janelle, and her mom. We walked toward Langton

Pool, where the men’s swim portion of the race would take place. I felt selfconscious,

exposed, and ashamed. As we walked Janelle looked over, completely oblivious 

to the fact that one of her teachers was almost naked, and

exclaimed, “I think it is so cool that you are racing today Dave.” My heart

warmed, my embarrassment faded, and I felt a sense of confidence seep into my

chilled body. I smiled, and looked over at her and said, “Me too Janelle, me too.”

I knew I probably looked ridiculous but at that point I didn’t care. I was ready to

race and I was ready to have some fun. I told myself that I may look ridiculous,

but so what.