Like the cold winds that sweep in with the passing of summer, triathlon season has also begun to see its leaves turn. Mornings are too dark for early rides, cool winds require long pants, open water swims are too cold, and rain drops, dark clouds and cool temperatures dampen my spirits. Yet, with one last warm, sunny, bright summer weekend, I got in just one more race of the season at Pavilion Lake.
On the drive out, I remember feeling unexpectedly relaxed. On any other race day, I would have described myself as jittery, shaky and fluttering. Yet, on this morning I didn’t sense any form of nervousness or apprehension.
This was my third race of the season, and I now know what I am capable of doing. I know that I won’t drown, my legs won’t stop working, I won’t get lost on the course, fall off my bike, or otherwise fail. Four months ago, I would have thought that any one of those predicaments could be possible. Being confident and trusting in my abilities is so reassuring.
I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end the season. I felt strong in the swim, killed the bike, but the run was a challenge, as always. Heading into winter training, I know that my focus will be on my running. Sometimes I feel as though I am carrying concrete slabs for legs. I continually scream quietly, yet loudly to myself, “you’re light as a feather; run like a Kenyan; mind over matter, mind over matter.” It doesn’t seem to do a thing, as I continue to saunter along like a 2 tonne elephant. But that’s all in the process of getting stronger and better and learning. Along with expensive chiropractic and massage appointments, early mornings, tired work days, shin splints, blisters, road rash, chlorine hair, higher grocery bills, and more money spent on new equipment, coaches and gym memberships. It sounds kind of off-putting, yet I don’t foresee myself quitting anytime soon. It’s just part of the package.
This journey has also been much easier because of friends, family, coaches and training partners who support me. Most recently, I will never forget when my best friend came out to cheer me on and not only screamed my name at every turn along the course, and made me feel like a champion, but also spontaneously became one of the volunteers, helping with set up and timing. She was also the loudest one and perhaps the only one shouting in excitement when I won second place in my age group (it was a small event). She was proud of me, and I know that she would have been proud even if I did drown, fall off my bike, or get lost on the course. Sometimes racing in the sport of triathlon can be lonely, daunting and unforgiving, but with the support of those around me, the voices in my head yell at me with a little bit more encouragement, telling me that yes, my thunderous thighs will propel me to victory.
As I head into the off season I am already planning next race season, and feeling excited for more stories of my training through the next eight months as I continue my journey to one hundred forty point six miles.
triathlon
Invading my dreams
My nerves are sending jittery pulses from my racing heart down through my fingertips, and I can barely stand still. I have spent months preparing for this moment, and I am overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions. I look up at the glaring crowd in the bleachers and I feel engulfed by their presence. Their cheers are piercing through my reverberating ear drums in muffled tones. This is the Olympic Games and I am about to grace the world stage in the finals of the 100m freestyle. As we line up along the deck and prepare for the start, I feel focused and ready to compete. In my mind, I am baffled as to how I got here. How is it that I am at the finals of the Olympic Games, competing with the best in the world? I suddenly feel a rush of pride and confidence. This is my moment. This is my time to shine. As I take my mark, I crouch down into position, and then with the blast of the horn, launch myself forward into the calm, clear water below. But instead of a clean dive through the water my body is abruptly stopped and I barely break the surface as I bob forward. In this moment I realize that I am sporting a wet suit and life jacket, making it exceedingly difficult to swim. My arms flail in a frantic form of splashing and turmoil, and I can already hear the disapproving words from my coach. Why is this so difficult? Out of the corner of my eye, I see my competition gracefully, and powerfully charging through the race. I begin to panic, and my legs thrash through the pool. If I don’t get going soon, I won’t even finish the race. It’s like trying to outrun a monster in a nightmare, but my body won’t move. As I look back again at my competition I realize that I have barely managed to flail through one lap of the pool before the race is over and the winner has been declared. The cheers from the crowd intensify as I quickly slip under the rope to the edge of the pool and shamefully try to get out of the water as quick as possible. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and I shut my eyes tight hoping that I will either disappear into thin air, or this nightmare will end. Why did I wear a life jacket and wet suit to the finals? As I look back at the deck, I see them raise our country’s flags in order of the final results to realize I did not come in last, but eighth out of nine. I wasn’t a complete disaster, eighth in the world isn’t all that bad.
I dream of triathlons or at least one of the three sports almost every night. It has become a passion that I obsess over in my waking life, just as much as in my dreams. Sometimes in these dreams I am fulfilling greatness or failing miserably. As the author of The Triathlete’s Training Bible, Joe Friel said, “achieving the pinnacle of excellence requires living, breathing, eating, and sleeping triathlon every day. Literally.” So I guess I am following his advice pretty well. I just hope that tonight’s dream is back to me achieving greatness, and not flailing through a pool like a drowning giraffe.
The Brick Workout
I smoothly shift my gears and slow my bike down to a glide before eventually braking to a complete stop. I swing my right leg across the middle bar, and feel the heaviness of tired muscles weigh me down. It’s not until I am completely off the bike that I realize just how heavy, shaky and tired my legs feel. I am teetering on lead pillars. Cautiously, I bend at the waist to take off my cycling shoes, and prepare to slide my feet into my runners. The heaviness weighs on me and I feel as though I might topple like a leaning tower of Jenga. As I pop back to the upright position, I struggle to bring one leg in front of the other, as I shift my muscles from cycling mode to running mode. I am a baby fawn with drunken coordination, and this is called the ‘brick workout.’
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Becoming a fish
This week I survived my first open water swimming session. There was a lot of anxiety about moving away from the controlled environment of a pool to the outdoor elements a lake has to offer. From waves, to fish, the thought of lake monsters, sighting, vision, breathing, and the fear of drowning, it was a lot to take in. Going into it I really had no
idea what to expect out of myself. Would I be anxious? Could I do it? Had I trained enough in the pool to be prepared for open water? Yet once I stuck my face in the water for the first time and saw my surroundings, I felt at peace and at ease. It was not scary, but liberating, as I felt like a guppy who was experiencing life outside a fish bowl for the first time. I have to say that everything about training for the swim has been an adventure, but moving from the safe confines of the pool to open water has one particular adventure all on its own; the purchase of a wetsuit. Continue reading
Back to the beginning
For last eight months, I have been training for triathlons, and so far it has been a slow and oftentimes painful process. I have struggled to learn the finesse techniques of swimming, suffered through the confusion of understanding smooth gear shifting while cycling, and agonized my lungs while trying to master the art of controlled breathing while running. There has been maxed out credit cards, crashes, cramps, blisters and strains, yet I am completely hooked, and undeniably committed to continue the adventure. Continue reading
