What I Learned About Birth While Training for, Competing in, and DNFing my First Half Iron Triathlon Pt.1

The irony about this post is the ultimatum that got me here in the first place. Last Fall after proving to myself I could in fact train for a Sprint Triathlon, I got the itch to go a little further. Well, a whole lot further. And I facetiously (or maybe not so facetiously) proposed to my husband that we have baby #5, or I go full send and train for this crazy 70.3 mile race.

Full send it was.

Racing packet, marking numbers, and swim cap

I knew my timeline, I had a training pattern, and I spent hours and hours running, biking, and swimming in preparation. All to literally panic during the run and call it quits before crossing the finish line.

So what's this have to do with birth?

Alot. So much in fact this is going to be a two part series with the first focusing solely on the comparison between race and birth preparation.

If I would have shown up to this 70.3 mile race without any training or research about what to expect other than knowing I'd be swimming, biking, and running for awhile, it would have been an incredibly traumatizing experience. I would have physically hurt myself first and foremost because I simply would have been absolutely unprepared to endure the time and distance. My anxiety would have been totally overwhelming trying to wrap my mind around the unknowns of the course, transitions, nutrition, etc. It would be completely impossible to thrive, and more than probable would be the fact I'd need rescuing early on from my own lack of preparation.

But how many of us go into birth this way? We know where we're birthing, what the outcome will probably be, and trust the staff can rescue us.

I wonder what it could look like though if we did it better?

I promise you, in regards to thorough research, I visited the Door County Triathlon website just short of 10,000 times to be sure I was as aware as possible of what I was getting into. I knew the rules. I knew the schedule. I knew the course and the water stops and where there were popsicles. I knew the heart behind the race. I even looked at last years race statistics.

What if we thoroughly researched our options? Hospital, birth center, home birth, or free birth. And once we narrowed in on that decision, policies, practioners, methodologies, and what they believe about women and their innate ability to birth.

Throughout the training process, I learned more and more about howt to train my body effectively. I learned about pacing and dynamic stretching and rest days. I paired proper nutrition, movement, and rest in ways that allowed me to thrive. I recognized the impact my cycle had on training and tried my best to team up with my body's needs.

What if we understood our bodies and how they worked in tandem with the baby's innate development? What if we knew how to stretch and align and move in ways that created space for and harmony with your growing baby? What if we took the time to discover how our hormones in an uninterupted state of flow create the perfect atmosphere for a euphoric, intuitive, sovereign birth?

My kit all set up for the transitions.

Like a good millenial, I spent enormous amounts of time on Reddit understanding best practices for training, how to handle transitions, and what sort of nutrition I would need. I read about other's experiences, envisioned finishing over and over again, and imagined each portion of the race.

What if we envisioned our birth, meditated on truths, and practiced breathing techniques? What if we created beautiful, deep neural pathways in our mind to handle labor surges long before we ever needed them? What if proteced our eye and ear "gates" against people's negative birthing experiences and intentionally focused and studied births that looked like what we desired for ourselves?

Paper record of the hundreds of training miles with my finished relay medal

In the 6.5 months leading up to the race, I intentionally worked out 4-6 days a week. I ran, biked, and swam hundreds of miles. I practiced, stretched my endurance, and tried and tested all of my gear. I knew what socks and shoes wouldn't cause blisters. I found women designed tri shorts that didn't move during the three events or throughout transitions and dried fabulously. I got

my bike professionally fitted so my body wouldn't rebel throughout the miles in the saddle.

What if we practiced moving our bodies in ways that readied us for labor and aquainted our systems with positions of labor? What if thoughtfully procured clothing or cover ups with natural fabrics that helped us embrace our feminity in labor and delivery? What if we researched and practiced with tools of labor like labor combs, TENS units, and rebozos?

So if I did all the things, why did I fail? Why might a pregnant woman approach labor so thoroughly and still struggle?

Well, that's for part two where I break down the places I made mistakes and missteps I find so similar to birth. Through it, I hope to help you avoid the same pitfalls.