"On your mark! Get set! Go!"

I didn’t actually hear a yell or a whistle, but I imagine they must have signaled the race to start because the group of women around me, clad in one pieces and wetsuits, goggles, and bike shorts, suddenly lurched toward the lake in one big mass of limbs.
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I ran with the group on the rocky shore, pinched on my nose plug and double-checked my earplugs (the reason I didn't hear the whistle in the first place). 

Aly Prades

Step, step, dive into the cool water. Eyes open and blurry, a sudden sting of water. I forgot to lower my goggles! I stopped and staggered, rubbing my eyes before adjusting the straps of my goggles.

Okay, try again. I dove in again, hoping no one in the crowd noticed. My delay put me behind the pack, which my friends who have done triathlons before actually encouraged me to do to stay out of the fray of flailing arms and kicking feet.

I started with the slow freestyle stroke I practiced for the last month, but the water was choppier than I expected. With each breath, I gulped in water until I was sputtering and wheezing. I was already out past where I could touch, so I paused and tread water to try to get my bearings. Although I stopped making forward progress in the 500-meter course, my heart did not stop pounding and my lungs did not stop gasping.

I looked ahead, and the first buoy was still so far away. I practiced my swims along the shoreline. I had never been this far out in the lake. There were rescue helpers on paddleboards and kayaks. Still treading water, I held back sobs and contemplated how long I could last before needing rescue.

"My only goal is to not drown," I had joked to friends before the race, my first sprint triathlon, or any race for that matter. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

I knew I would be rescued if needed, but my pride would be mortally wounded. 
Luckily, I was prepared for panic.

The email to racers stated repeatedly, "Do not panic."

Surely, they would not write that if it wasn't a common reaction. 

Okay, I am panicking. And what else can I do? 

I thought of all my training. I knew I could swim 500 meters — had swum more than that during my training! — but that was in the shelter of the pool — clear, smooth water, delineated lanes, nothing creepy below the murky surface, and, most importantly, absent 50 competitors flailing and cutting through the choppy water.

"Doggy paddle if you have to," my friend had told me. “Just keep moving.”

I started to move forward in a modified breast stroke, keeping my head above water the whole time, and even then, the choppy water slapped up in my face every minute or so, and I’d find myself coughing again.

Just make it to the first buoy, I told myself. Then you can give up.

I surprised myself and kept going.

***
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I rounded the first buoy and felt immediate relief. Five minutes earlier, I couldn’t even imagine making it here. Still moving forward little by little, panic gave way to little micro goals. 

If I can make it to the first, I can make it to the second. If I can make it to the second buoy, I can swim to the finish.

I had practiced stretches of 50 strokes or meters at a time before stopping to catch my breath. With the adrenaline and choppy waters, I could barely make it 10 strokes before I found myself waterlogged and panicked, lungs screaming, heart pounding. I ditched my original plan and alternated 10 strokes of freestyle like I practiced, 10 breast strokes with my head above water to catch my breath and get my bearings, then 10 breast strokes with my head dipping under water, then repeat.

To my surprise, the shoreline crept closer. And closer. Until I stretched out my legs and my toes plunged into soft sand. Legs jelly and heart racing, I emerged safe on the shore.
 
***

Aly and the family at the finish line!

You can find the phrase "Do not be afraid" hundreds of times in the Bible. Like the race coordinators writing "Do not panic," the writers of the Bible must have known the default human reaction is to panic, to be afraid, in the face of uncertainty, when charting new territory, or when on the threshold of seeing God move in big ways. The fear is not the problem; fear is expected. It is not failure to feel afraid or anxious. It is human! In all these mentions in the Bible, “do not be afraid” is not a command, but an invitation. Yes, there is fear, but do not let fear win. Allow yourself to be comforted, buoyed even by God’s presence and promises. 

The swim portion of my first triathlon did not look like I hoped or expected, but I learned that messy motion can still move you forward if you’re willing to keep going. 

In this case, God gave me a chance to lean on my strength and training and the encouragement of others. In other cases, fear can be an invitation to trust God or receive help and support from unlikely sources. Fear often shows up when God is calling us into a new place of rest or joy, sacrifice or challenge. 

Sometimes rescue doesn't come when and how we want it — we have to push through in the deep, murky water much longer than we would prefer. In those moments, may we be held by our strength, by the support of others, and by God. You may make progress you never thought possible. God may reveal grace you never imagined. You may find yourself on a new shoreline or back to the same place with a new perspective.

What messy motion has God called you to today? What’s one slow step you can take to keep chasing hope on the horizon? 

In His Name, Ali

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