Here we go again…

Do you remember what it was like going to an amusement park as a kid (Or maybe recently if you’re a wimpy adult such as I am)? There was always that one roller coaster, or ride that flipped you upside down and sideways that was the sole reason people went there.  Looking at it gave you an instant pit in your stomach, but something about the lines of people and sound of screaming made you curious. You waited in a line that snaked around the amusement thinking “Should I? Shouldn’t I?“. As you made your way to the gates you could see people exiting, laughing and cheering as they made their way back to the concourse. “So if no one’s dead and everyone looks happy… this must be worth, right?”

My childhood fear/love.

Finally it was your turn. You’d nervously push your way through the turnstile, and climb into a cart next to a comforting friend or parent. An employee would check to make sure you were safely fastened in and then… you were off. During that slow climb up the first hill you were pretty sure you were going to vomit from nerves but then- it was the time of your life. You’d scream and laugh your way through the ride – only to jump off and immediately hop back in line.

That is really the best way that I can describe what finishing your first triathlon is like.  Do you get where I’m going with this?

I hopped right back in line 🙂

Before my number tattoo had a chance to fade (Let’s be honest I tried to preserve that bad boy as long as possible) I was feverishly typing in my credit card information for another triathlon. And before I could stop myself from hitting submit- I had another countdown started. I know you’re all saying to yourself “Gee for the girl who bitched and moaned and complained and cried…” So before we go any further let me just say this:

Oh don’t mind me- I’m just admiring my bad ass tattoo in the bathroom mirror again.

For everyone who said “You won’t drown”… you were right and I was wrong.
For everyone who said “You’ll do it… and then want to do it faster”... you were right and I was wrong.
For everyone who said You’re going to love it”... you were right and I was wrong.
For everyone who said “You’ll do one and be hooked“… you were right and I was wrong.

HAPPY NOW?

The race isn’t until the end of the summer, so I have about a month to get myself ready before I “tri” (sorry- triathlete joke) again.  And while this means I’m heading back to the pool and back out on my bike– training for it won’t be anything like training for Iron Girl. Oh and the most EXCITING news is that the swim portion is just a quarter mile (Iron Girl was a half mile) which means half the swimming… I’m loving the sound of this already!

Back to the pool I go- but looking a little more legit this time around?

It’s amazing how different it feels training for a second triathlon versus your first. Gone are those intense fears (I mean, minus the whole drowning thing- there’s always a possibility) of attempting something foreign and new. This time around I have an idea of what to expect, what to pack, how to set up, what the lake will be like. I’m excited to do it all over again – but better and faster.

I’m digging this ride- and totally content hanging out here for a while 🙂

Baby steps (and strokes).

Step One: Get on the bike.

As terrifying as the “T Word” is to me (4 months and 1 day just in case you were wondering)- I’m still very much intrigued by it. I guess if I wasn’t I wouldn’t have signed up for the thing, but you know what I mean. It’s kind of like watching a horror movie: you’re covering your eyes in fear of what you know is coming ,but yet you sit there peeking through your fingers at all the gory goodness. I’m completely scared out of my pants- but yet a part of me keeps trying to picture the extreme awesomeness of crossing the finish line and actually being able to call myself a triathlete . (Side note: I wonder if its possible to add ,triathlete as a credential on my business cards at work? Remind me to check on that.)

Think I would be disqualified for rocking one of these bad boys? At least it screams safety first!

So in the spirit of peeking through my fingers I decided that it was time to see if I could actually still ride a bike. Besides spin class in my chubby days, the last time I was cruising along on a bike was probably shortly after I got my braces put on and began dousing myself in Country Apple body splash. So while visiting my parents this weekend we dug out my brother’s old mountain bike. At some point I’m going to get some wheels of my own, (Which by the way I’d love any and all advice on because bike descriptions might as well be written in Swahili) but I figured I should probably see just how rusty my bike riding skills are first. Turns out that phrase “just like riding a bike” is a legit statement- it was a few wobbly rides up and down the street but they’re still there! I’ve been trying to picture myself cruising into the transition area (Look at me using my triathlon lingo!) but quickly cover my eyes with my hands again. Baby steps.

Speaking of baby steps errr…. strokes- swim class continues to be an ongoing battle in my life. I would be a millionaire if I got a $1 for every time my swim instructor says “good job… now get your head down lower” and although he laughs when I suggest tying a brick to the back of my neck- I don’t think he realizes I’m being dead serious. And by the time I got around to attempting to make some progress, he decided to throw us all in a lane at the same time to simulate an actual triathlon wave- and everything I had learned disappeared through swim cap. Which is kind of a problem considering that on ACTUAL T-Day I’m going to be in a mess of crazy swimmers, kicking and splashing past me in a nasty lake – not in my nice little flat lane in the chlorinated pool. So once again- I cover my eyes. One thing at a time here.

Whose idea of a good time was this again?

I’ve come to peace with the understanding that as much as my instructor tries to teach me good habits- when it comes time to do this thing my “technique” is going to be whatever the hell feels natural and keeps me from not sinking to my death. So right now I’m going to focus on physically making it more than a lap without dying, because swimming gives me serious Fat Kid Syndrome all over again. I remind myself over and over again that at one point running a mile was struggle and that eventually it happened. And this will happen too. Hopefully somewhere along the way the breathing thing happens as well… that or I’ll just continue to cross my fingers in hopes that I wake up on July 21st with a fresh pair of gills.