Dear Triathlon Training

Dear Triathlon Training,

You started as a 'sure, why not' challenge.
You made me get into a pool.
You made me get up at the crack of dawn.
You made me buy a bike.
And a helmet. And shorts with padded butts. 
You made me eat. A lot.
You made me paranoid of overly friendly dogs.
You forced me out of my comfort zone. 
You made me love running again.
You turned me into an anxious ball of overexercised energy.
You took over my life.
You tested my strength.
You tested my limits.
You made me second guess myself.
You made me prioritize. 
You turned my hair into a greasy, natty, mess of chlorine and sweat.
You inflamed my left hip and seriously pissed off my IT bands. 

You made me stronger, physically and emotionally.

Swimming taught me to breath.
Biking on hills taught me to push harder and grunt louder. 
Running reminded me how free and relaxing a good sweat session can be.
All three have taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to. 


This letter may be premature, Triathlon Training as our dance is still a few days away. But I just wanted to say thank you. You got me through a rough patch or two by giving me an outlet and a perspective. You made me smile through the nerves, to work through the hurt, and focus on the positive.


I hope to repay the favor by going confidently and boldly into the water and staying strong throughout. If I panic in the river, wipe out during the ride or walk the entire 6.2 miles,--I will still  be proud of the past five months of soreness, sweat, and strength. And grateful for the challenge. 


In conclusion, I guess it didn't suck as much as I thought sometimes and all. We're cool.
Thanks and stuff.


Linds

Things I Did Not Know in January But Now I Do

• The terms gear, cadence, three-up, saddle-sore, or clip-ins.
• An itchy nose means improper breathing in the water.
• Swimsuits are really expensive.
• Bikes are really expensive.
• Chlorine is an overwhelming odor at first but eventually you get used to it. Maybe even grow to like it.
• Putting baby powder in your swim cap will prevent it from sticking together. It's better to add the baby powder after you've swam and before you're dressed in a black sweater.
• There is nothing quite as good as a good run.
• You do not have to shave your legs to get into the pool. Honestly, no one notices.
• The mirrors on the left side of the spin class room are good. The mirrors on the right side of the spin class room are evil.
• Sitting on a bike in the back row of a spin class means that you can watch muscluar guys to pull ups, heavy machines, and lower ab leg lifts behind you. Always get to class early.
• Dogs of all sizes are fascinated by bike wheels. Dog owners of all sizes are idiots.
• It is completely possible to learn how to swim in three months.
• Learning to cycle is not simply 'riding a bike.'.
• Triathlons are really expensive.
• Not rotating enough in the water = back pain
• Seat too high or low on your bike = back pain
• Taking spin classes to learn how to bike is like only running on a treadmill before your first race. Eventually, you have to get outside.
• Bike tires need to be inflated at least once a week.
• If it feels like your bike weights ten extra pounds no matter how hard you push and it's hard to balance than usual, check your tires.
• We can pretty much do anything we set our minds to -- no matter how daunting, terrifying, overwhelming, and challenging.

Training for a Marathon v. Training for Triathlon

Misconception #4590 of the triathlon was that my running experiences and marathon training would somehow help me.


A lot of people have asked if I would be able to do a triathlon. My usual response is "Whatever, Mom. I did the marathon in November and I've run 11 half marathons. Yes I can do it! Gosh!" I mean, I knew how to follow a training plan, pushed my body to run 40 mile weeks, and eventually conquered the big 26.2. So how hard could learning to swim and ride a bike possibly be?"

Hard.

It's not hard as in algebra hard. It's hard as in trying to write with your opposite hand. I'm going through the motions but the outcome is not what I expected. It looks and feels like a big giant mess that only a crazy person would understand. Training for a triathlon requires a new level of balance, confidence, and determination.

Balance: I was able to train for 11 half marathons while working full-time, going to graduate school part-time, and enjoying a healthy social life. I even picked up an additional fitness goal in karate and was able to have a relationship too.Trying to find the time, energy,and  resources to handle running, swimming, cycling, and ninja classes has been a significant challenge.  The struggle to balance everything has cost me relationships, sanity, and lots of PTO hours at work. I was once able to handle graduate school, GOTR, career, running, ninja, and a relationship on schedule built like a Jenga game and the triathlon toppled it all.

Confidence: Triathlon training is like following a new recipe from complete scratch. I'm dealing with new ingredients and being told to mix them together in an unfamiliar and weird way. Am I running too much? Should I be swimming more? Why do I still smell like chlorine? Do I really need to bake this for 40 minutes? Why is this dough so wet? There are times when I just want to throw it all away and order pizza. 

Determination: When I was training for the marathon, I never ever wanted to quit. The thought of not finishing a long run or not ultimately achieving a goal that I had set and worked towards for three years never once crossed my mind. I had two years and many road races under my belt to bolster my confidence and squash any self-doubt about running. I had the experience and confidence to know that I was going to finish the marathon.
I want to quit the triathlon at least once a week. I've never done this before. I've never swam in open water. I've never biked on a road with other cyclists. I've never done transitions and wetsuits. And I just never know if I'm doing it right. It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's demanding. I want to quit with ever failed flip turn in the pool. I want to quit every time my foot hurts or my wrist aches.  I want to quit when I come home to an empty apartment because my now ex-boyfriend couldn't handle it. I want to quit every time I step onto the mat at ninja and still don't know the stupid kata because I had to miss three weeks because of injury or training.

But I don't quit. And I won't. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because so many of my coworkers and friends are excited for me and watch me succeed? Maybe it's because I've had to chant "Courage, Self-Control, Perseverance, Indomitable Spirit" at the end ninja classes twice a week for almost two years. Maybe I'm just stubborn. Maybe I've just sacrificed too much and worked too hard to stop now. Maybe I'm just a masochist and enjoy the pain. Maybe I need to know that I can do it.


“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”

― Shel Silverstein.

Lessons in Not Flying Off a Bike

We've discussed my lessons in not drowning, aka swimming. Lets move on to Lessons in Not Flying off a Lightweight Deathtrap while going very fast down a hill with lots of holes and obstacles.

Just like swimming, I approached biking with many misconceptions and naivety.
Yes, I knew how to ride a bike. I learned at a early age. It was a lot more fun at that early age. Kids ride bikes with reckless abandon. That same reckless abandon that terrifies parents and drivers. There are no speed limits. Helmets are lame but you have to wear them. It's fun and there is nothing more awesome than going downhill on bike. When you're a child....

When you're an adult, it's the cars on the road you're trying to share that apparently obey no speed limits. Helmets serve as the only line of defense between the pavement and your brain. In my opinion--there is nothing more terrifying than going downhill. My first experience with a decline  was in Tyler Park in Newtown. I've run in Tyler Park for three years and never EVER do I recall going downhill on foot. That park has served as a geographic anomaly to me because there were no downhills. I always assumed that if you go up a hill, you would eventually go down a hill. Unless you're in Tyler Park.

This is me running in Tyler Park. Repeat this scene over and over and over again and
you have my life for the past three years.

Until that windy day in early April when I took my pretty new bike to Tyler and learned that there are in fact downhills in Tyler Park. They simply only exist when one is going way too fast and cannot rely on their own devices to stop. Oh yes, Tyler has downhills. And I hate them. I can climb the hills fairly well. It's a good time. I grunt. I feel triumphant at the top. I sweat with pride. Then, I realize in this landscape of terror that is Tyler Park, there is no flat stretch to catch my breath or gather speed. I have reached the top of a hill which can only mean....

And this is me riding my bike in Tyler Park.  And counting the ways to wipe out.

I am not a praying person. I do not have any known crazy anxiety disorder. I maintain an acceptable amount of awareness of what I can and cannot control in this world. Until the moment when I have go down a hill on my bike. In the 30 seconds it will take me to reach the bottom, I will have said a full Rosary, imagined twelve difference scenarios of ways my body could be removed from the bike, and the 100 different injuries I could substain. I count seconds. I count trees. I count breaths. I count the moments it will be until I feel some resemblence of control and comfort on the two-wheels below me. I thank whomever invented helmets. I thank the people ahead for moving. I thank whatever powers that be for getting me down that damn hill. 

I've heard people call this freeing. I've heard it called liberating. I call it insanity. I internally freak out when I realize that I could have to face this same situation in the race and will be surronded by other cyclists. They will be going much faster than me. It adds another level of terror to this irrational reasoning. I may be the only person one two wheels who would prefer to go up hill. Please, challenge my quads. Make my thighs burn. I will take on the hill. I do not want to become part of the hill. 

I had to conquer my fear of public pools and speedos to learn swimming. Chlorine may dry out my skin, but it will never tear skin off like a road rash. Other people's germs will simply make me stink or a little sick. Other people's pets may cause me to crash.

Uphills and downhills  are an inevitable part of life. I cannot avoid either. I need to find a way to slow down and gain a sense of control on the downhill part. I'll be ok then.   And that is a pretty significant methaphor for life, my friends. And a really good time to wrap up this post.