Anybody who knows me well enough knows that I am not a very patient person. Most triathletes aren't. It seems to be a particularly strong part of my personality, though, and a trait that I don't always have the most success dealing with. It's probably because patience is heavily associated with logic...and let's face it, for me there are many times when training, racing, or just living my life that logic tends to go out the window. At least in my experience, knowing what you should do or being aware of a particular fact almost never manages to suppress your true yearnings.
It always starts subtly, perhaps after one too many fatigued-filled workout, or right when things seem to be coming together for everyone...except you. It always starts with that one twinge of longing, that one rogue thought in the mist of sunnier musings. "This is great and all, but...when's it gonna be my turn?" you think. It's perhaps one of the most selfish thoughts a person and athlete can have, but we've all contemplated it at some point. Knowing that you can't possibly have it all doesn't stop you from wanting to. After all, if we were always satisfied with ourselves, we wouldn't be training, racing, and competing. The thing is that this can lead to a constant sense of expectation, and the feeling that we're always searching for something. Therein lies our--or at least my--central conflict: is it possible to keep that fire and motivation alive while still managing to be somewhat content? Is that the best we can be...somewhat content? The fact that there are always new goals to be reached is what keeps us excited for the future. It's healthy. But there's a very fine line between healthy goals and continual dissatisfaction and resentment.
It's only natural to want to stop walking in the shadows and have your own moment in the sun. It's normal to want things to make sense, add up, and come together. It's human to want a little luck on your side. Anybody who argues otherwise isn't being honest with themselves. I won't lie: I want my moment. I've had a lot of frustrations recently, and I'm itching for something to go right rather than wrong. Logic may go out the window much of the time, but in the end it is what saves me. Waiting sucks. It's tough to constantly put in effort and see agonizingly slow returns. But the thing is, when the tide finally turns...you come to realize that the best things in life truly are worth waiting for.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
When things go wrong...Tri the Rez race reflection
Triathletes are compulsive planners. Every inch of our races is analyzed, mapped out, and planned to maximize our effort and overall performance. Perhaps one of the hardest things to accept, then, is that there are some things that cannot be planned for. Which brings us to this weekend, my first race in 6 months, and yet another lesson learned.
I came into this race (Tri the Rez, Tallahassee, Oct. 8th) feeling very apprehensive but excited. I had not raced in 6 months--not by choice, mind you, but because lingering foot problems put me out for 6 weeks this summer. Collegiate nationals in April was my last race before I started experiencing problems. Coming off of a big, exhausting race at the pinnacle of my fitness this spring and having to take time off was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my training. It was such a relief to start training again, and I became excited for my first race back. I knew not to expect much from my run, as I still hadn't regained the fitness I'd lost this summer, but I was excited to see how much my increased training in the water and on the bike would pay off. So I drove to Tally this weekend, a bundle of nerves and excitement, to see what I could do.
I charged into the water and immediately felt the familiar adrenaline rush that comes with starting the swim in a huge, physical crowd of collegiate athletes. There's nothing that really compares to it, in my opinion. Feeling pretty confident in my swimming ability, I pulled to the front of the group and focused on staying smooth, relaxed, and powerful; raising my head to sight every 10-15 meters. About a quarter of the way into the swim, I realized there was only one girl ahead of me. Instead of this freaking me out, though, it energized me. I started swimming faster, came out of the water, and ran into transition in the mist of plenty of commotion and cheering. As I ran out of transition and hopped on my bike, I heard the voice of a volunteer shout "YEAH, FIRST GIRL!!" I was so surprised that I yelled back, "REALLY?!" Somewhere before exiting the water, I must have passed the only girl ahead of me, making me the first collegiate girl out of the water. This revelation shot excitement through my veins and made me ready to hammer the bike leg. I was feeling awesome at the start of the bike and was starting to believe that despite all my time off, I could have a really good race. The first four miles flew by. And then it happened. WHOOOSH. All of a sudden, I heard the despondent sound of all the air coming out of my tire at once. I knew exactly what had just happened, and my heart sank. In the middle of my not-so-muttered obscenities, I faced a decision. Attempt to change the flat and waste time that way (let's be honest, I'm not so good with the practical aspect of bikes) or attempt to ride on a deflated tire and lose all my momentum.
I chose the latter option, and the 9 miles that followed were pretty awful. I worked twice as hard to go so much slower than everyone else. The rest of the collegiate girls--many of whom I'd had at least a minute lead on--started to catch up with me. I slogged through the miles and reached my peak of frustration as I attempted to climb a fairly steep hill around mile 11. "Why am I even still riding?" I thought. "This is a waste of time." And then I realized something. This race wasn't about my time or placing. I let myself get carried away with the high of being first out of the water. This race was about guts, even before the flat. Getting back out there. Proving something to myself. The flat was just another opportunity to hone my mental toughness. Not the opportunity I'd have picked, but an opportunity just the same. I finished the bike leg and resolved to do the best I could on my run, not worry about the time, and focus instead on being a fighter. My run was less-than-stellar, possibly because my legs were overworked from having to pedal really hard to even finish the bike. But strangely, it didn't matter that much to me. I passed the mental test. "Another race, another time," I thought, and left it at that. It's really hard to stay upset when you're surrounded by people as wonderful, supportive, and downright entertaining as my teammates. Prior to and after the race, we also had the opportunity to socialize with the other collegiate tri teams. Even after collegiate nationals, the level of camaraderie and friendship between the teams of "rival" schools continues to amaze me. It's a huge part of why we do what we do. It makes our efforts worthwhile. So even though my race was frustrating and disappointing, it was a valuable lesson in keeping things in perspective and learning the strength of my own spirit. Sometimes, even in triathlon--a sport where everything can be measured, counted, and timed--there are things you can't put a number or a value on. And often, those are the most important.
I chose the latter option, and the 9 miles that followed were pretty awful. I worked twice as hard to go so much slower than everyone else. The rest of the collegiate girls--many of whom I'd had at least a minute lead on--started to catch up with me. I slogged through the miles and reached my peak of frustration as I attempted to climb a fairly steep hill around mile 11. "Why am I even still riding?" I thought. "This is a waste of time." And then I realized something. This race wasn't about my time or placing. I let myself get carried away with the high of being first out of the water. This race was about guts, even before the flat. Getting back out there. Proving something to myself. The flat was just another opportunity to hone my mental toughness. Not the opportunity I'd have picked, but an opportunity just the same. I finished the bike leg and resolved to do the best I could on my run, not worry about the time, and focus instead on being a fighter. My run was less-than-stellar, possibly because my legs were overworked from having to pedal really hard to even finish the bike. But strangely, it didn't matter that much to me. I passed the mental test. "Another race, another time," I thought, and left it at that. It's really hard to stay upset when you're surrounded by people as wonderful, supportive, and downright entertaining as my teammates. Prior to and after the race, we also had the opportunity to socialize with the other collegiate tri teams. Even after collegiate nationals, the level of camaraderie and friendship between the teams of "rival" schools continues to amaze me. It's a huge part of why we do what we do. It makes our efforts worthwhile. So even though my race was frustrating and disappointing, it was a valuable lesson in keeping things in perspective and learning the strength of my own spirit. Sometimes, even in triathlon--a sport where everything can be measured, counted, and timed--there are things you can't put a number or a value on. And often, those are the most important.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Obsession
Obsession. Is it always a bad thing, something to guard against? I guess the merits or dangers of being obsessive depends on what you’re obsessing about. I know my personality is obsessive and addictive. I’ve just now conceded this. But I’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol…I’m addicted to endorphins and success. Once I set my eyes on something, it takes a very long time for me to forget about it. I can’t get enough of this feeling when I train and race. It’s the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of power when I’m feeling good, the feeling that I’m flying and could take on the world…there’s nothing that I know of that could ever replace that. Addiction in general is considered by the public to be something to guard against, stay away from, and be wary of. But those same people applaud and celebrate athletes who display obsessive dedication to achieving the highest levels of success in their sports. And so addictive and obsessive behavior is at the same time found to be both disgraceful and admirable: it just depends what you’re addicted to.
A memorable motivational video I recently watched claimed, "You have to want success more than you want sleep." This certainly rings true for triathletes: 6:30am workouts and 5:30am race days are staples of our schedules. These kinds of workouts build mental toughness and discipline, not to mention endurance and strength. However, our obsession sometimes can lead to the mistaken impression that we can do it all. And that's the problem with only having one speed. "All or nothing" is draining. It can sap your energy, optimism, and social desires. Always living life on "go" can exhaust you so completely that it's hard to recover. Passion is a much stronger emotion than logic. At times, it's almost overpowering. And without passion, many of the good things in life would be meaningless. However, it is something to be careful with. I can't speak for other athletes, but for me, the logic vs. passion battle is one I wage practically every day. These two often contradictory feelings define how I train, and more broadly, how I live my life. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that what is good for you and what you really want are usually on opposite ends of the spectrum. As frustrating as this can be, it's probably for the best. Without logic, it would be very easy to get carried away and end up injured and emotionally depleted. And without passion, it would never be possible to reach the goals you've dreamed of. Often hitting the famous "runner's high" can make you feel invincible. But the important thing to remember is once your head comes back down from the clouds--you're still mortal.
A memorable motivational video I recently watched claimed, "You have to want success more than you want sleep." This certainly rings true for triathletes: 6:30am workouts and 5:30am race days are staples of our schedules. These kinds of workouts build mental toughness and discipline, not to mention endurance and strength. However, our obsession sometimes can lead to the mistaken impression that we can do it all. And that's the problem with only having one speed. "All or nothing" is draining. It can sap your energy, optimism, and social desires. Always living life on "go" can exhaust you so completely that it's hard to recover. Passion is a much stronger emotion than logic. At times, it's almost overpowering. And without passion, many of the good things in life would be meaningless. However, it is something to be careful with. I can't speak for other athletes, but for me, the logic vs. passion battle is one I wage practically every day. These two often contradictory feelings define how I train, and more broadly, how I live my life. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that what is good for you and what you really want are usually on opposite ends of the spectrum. As frustrating as this can be, it's probably for the best. Without logic, it would be very easy to get carried away and end up injured and emotionally depleted. And without passion, it would never be possible to reach the goals you've dreamed of. Often hitting the famous "runner's high" can make you feel invincible. But the important thing to remember is once your head comes back down from the clouds--you're still mortal.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Abby's 10 Cycling Truths...
1. Bright is better. I just got the brightest, most obnoxious jersey ever...and I love it. Not only does it project your generally exhibitionist attitude to the world, but it also reduces your chances of dying. Major win.
2. There's always an uncomfortable seam SOMEWHERE, no matter what shorts you're wearing...
3. ...Until everything goes numb from the waist down around mile 30, or 40, or 50.
4. You aren't going to avoid the headwind. Unless somebody cares enough about you to pick you up at the end of a looooong stretch of tailwind. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Suck it up and turn around.
5. Riding shirtless seems like a great idea until you get a bee down the front of your sports bra, resulting in a major panic attack.
6. You will eat it in your clip shoes. Multiple times. It is not a question of if, but when.
7. Lukewarm Gatorade is DELICIOUS.
8. "Count the Honks" is a fun game to play, especially when you're exhausted.
9. You will try on a pair of pants that used to fit you, and say "WTF??" And then it dawns on you: your ass got bigger. Time in the saddle will turn even the most despondent rear into something that might even deserve praise.
10. No matter how much you want to stop, you want to keep going even more.
You have to admit, it is a pretty awesome jersey...
2. There's always an uncomfortable seam SOMEWHERE, no matter what shorts you're wearing...
3. ...Until everything goes numb from the waist down around mile 30, or 40, or 50.
4. You aren't going to avoid the headwind. Unless somebody cares enough about you to pick you up at the end of a looooong stretch of tailwind. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Suck it up and turn around.
5. Riding shirtless seems like a great idea until you get a bee down the front of your sports bra, resulting in a major panic attack.
6. You will eat it in your clip shoes. Multiple times. It is not a question of if, but when.
7. Lukewarm Gatorade is DELICIOUS.
8. "Count the Honks" is a fun game to play, especially when you're exhausted.
9. You will try on a pair of pants that used to fit you, and say "WTF??" And then it dawns on you: your ass got bigger. Time in the saddle will turn even the most despondent rear into something that might even deserve praise.
10. No matter how much you want to stop, you want to keep going even more.
You have to admit, it is a pretty awesome jersey...
Sunday, July 17, 2011
We don't have to be superheroes...
A solitary light cuts through the early morning fog. A figure in reflective clothing flies through the darkness so fast it's impossible to even discern its features. Several hours later, it's spotted churning through the water methodically, rhythmically, machinelike. Sound like a gifted being from a superhero movie? No, it's just your average triathlete logging her workout before the daily grind begins.
Sometimes it feels like we almost have to be superhuman to keep up with the demands of three sports and our day-to-day responsibilities. After all, most of us didn't start our endurance athlete careers by simultaneously deciding to take up swimming, biking, and running. We all started somewhere specific. For me, it was high school running, As a good--but not stellar--runner, towards the end of my senior year I found myself beginning to ask, "Where do I go from here?" I did my first triathlon on a whim and ended up falling in love with the challenge of completing a multisport race.
Training as a triathlete, though, requires much more planning and patience than just training as a runner. It's so easy to get discouraged and feel as though we're neglecting certain aspects of our workouts in our quest to become the ultimate well-rounded athlete. "How many times did I swim this week?" we think, or "Have I been putting enough speedwork in on the bike?" Sometimes keeping up with it all results in us barely keeping our heads above water.
Though the learning curve is steep, novice triathletes often find it difficult to master new sports while maintaining their background skills. In my case, some things came easier than others. I took to the water well, and swimming soon became my next favorite thing to do besides running. But cycling? Well, let's be honest. Cycling and I don't always see eye-to-eye. Maybe it's because I was born with the legs of a distance runner, or perhaps it's because I'm not used to being stuck in a fairly fixed position for extended periods of time. Whatever the reason, it hasn't always been easy for me to get in a rhythm. But then again, I don't do this because it's easy.
However difficult the going may become, it's important to remember that we don't have to be superhuman to succeed. Sometimes endurance athletes are so stoic and self-sufficient that we believe accepting any kind of assistance is a sign of weakness when the opposite is actually true. Those who aren't afraid to accept support are those who eventually achieve the highest levels of success. The initial difficulty I had with riding somehow magically disappeared when I found myself cycling with my training partners--who also happen to be my best friends. Sometimes it feels vulnerable to lean on others. But the closeness our sport can foster is easily one of the best things about being a triathlete. Today I got the chance to talk to two of the girls who've helped me realize that being a lone warrior isn't always the only strategy, and it dawned on me. Yes, the feeling of personal accomplishment and victory when crossing the finish line of a race you've trained hard for is almost irreplaceable. But there is one thing better than that feeling of victory: sharing it.
Sometimes it feels like we almost have to be superhuman to keep up with the demands of three sports and our day-to-day responsibilities. After all, most of us didn't start our endurance athlete careers by simultaneously deciding to take up swimming, biking, and running. We all started somewhere specific. For me, it was high school running, As a good--but not stellar--runner, towards the end of my senior year I found myself beginning to ask, "Where do I go from here?" I did my first triathlon on a whim and ended up falling in love with the challenge of completing a multisport race.
Training as a triathlete, though, requires much more planning and patience than just training as a runner. It's so easy to get discouraged and feel as though we're neglecting certain aspects of our workouts in our quest to become the ultimate well-rounded athlete. "How many times did I swim this week?" we think, or "Have I been putting enough speedwork in on the bike?" Sometimes keeping up with it all results in us barely keeping our heads above water.
Though the learning curve is steep, novice triathletes often find it difficult to master new sports while maintaining their background skills. In my case, some things came easier than others. I took to the water well, and swimming soon became my next favorite thing to do besides running. But cycling? Well, let's be honest. Cycling and I don't always see eye-to-eye. Maybe it's because I was born with the legs of a distance runner, or perhaps it's because I'm not used to being stuck in a fairly fixed position for extended periods of time. Whatever the reason, it hasn't always been easy for me to get in a rhythm. But then again, I don't do this because it's easy.
However difficult the going may become, it's important to remember that we don't have to be superhuman to succeed. Sometimes endurance athletes are so stoic and self-sufficient that we believe accepting any kind of assistance is a sign of weakness when the opposite is actually true. Those who aren't afraid to accept support are those who eventually achieve the highest levels of success. The initial difficulty I had with riding somehow magically disappeared when I found myself cycling with my training partners--who also happen to be my best friends. Sometimes it feels vulnerable to lean on others. But the closeness our sport can foster is easily one of the best things about being a triathlete. Today I got the chance to talk to two of the girls who've helped me realize that being a lone warrior isn't always the only strategy, and it dawned on me. Yes, the feeling of personal accomplishment and victory when crossing the finish line of a race you've trained hard for is almost irreplaceable. But there is one thing better than that feeling of victory: sharing it.
Friday, July 8, 2011
A poem and an update...
Broken...
Is what our bodies are when we go too far.
Is what our records must be, to move forward.
Is what we strive for our spirits not to be.
Is the tape by a frantically leaning torso.
Is how our hearts feel when our legs fail us.
Is that old time in a dark morning race.
Is what our bikes are after that fateful crash.
Is what we hope to preserve our sanity from.
The only way to live is passionately.
To do that some things must be broken.
I guess the side note to this poem is that I think I've finally found the reason behind my lingering foot problems. Today I went for my 4th--possibly 5th--doctor's visit regarding this issue, hoping to finally shed some light on why I've continued to have pain. The answer is simple, and I suppose not so surprising considering my history: my feet's biomechanics are flawed. The fancy scientific term is dynamic hallux limitus, which basically means that the structure of my joints is such that when my foot is loaded with weight, it has an extremely limited range of motion. This places undue amounts of stress on that first metatarsal-phalangeal joint and the forefoot in general. My abnormal joint structure also predisposes me to stress fractures. Not so shocking, considering I suffered that fate almost three years ago.
So what now? Where do I go from here? My feet are my lemons; they always have been. Fortunately there are things I can do. Running still probably isn't the best idea until I receive my custom orthotics, which should take significant stress off the vulnerable parts of my feet. Ice, natural and over-the-counter anti-inflammatory remedies, and metatarsal pads should help me slowly heal as well. The good news is that for now I can still be two-thirds of a triathlete, and with a little more time I should be three for three. If the pain is stubborn, I can turn to a steroid injection at the site to help alleviate it. But that's a last resort. The bottom line is that it's going to take a supernatural force to keep me away from what I love. I'm a fighter.
Is what our bodies are when we go too far.
Is what our records must be, to move forward.
Is what we strive for our spirits not to be.
Is the tape by a frantically leaning torso.
Is how our hearts feel when our legs fail us.
Is that old time in a dark morning race.
Is what our bikes are after that fateful crash.
Is what we hope to preserve our sanity from.
The only way to live is passionately.
To do that some things must be broken.
I guess the side note to this poem is that I think I've finally found the reason behind my lingering foot problems. Today I went for my 4th--possibly 5th--doctor's visit regarding this issue, hoping to finally shed some light on why I've continued to have pain. The answer is simple, and I suppose not so surprising considering my history: my feet's biomechanics are flawed. The fancy scientific term is dynamic hallux limitus, which basically means that the structure of my joints is such that when my foot is loaded with weight, it has an extremely limited range of motion. This places undue amounts of stress on that first metatarsal-phalangeal joint and the forefoot in general. My abnormal joint structure also predisposes me to stress fractures. Not so shocking, considering I suffered that fate almost three years ago.
So what now? Where do I go from here? My feet are my lemons; they always have been. Fortunately there are things I can do. Running still probably isn't the best idea until I receive my custom orthotics, which should take significant stress off the vulnerable parts of my feet. Ice, natural and over-the-counter anti-inflammatory remedies, and metatarsal pads should help me slowly heal as well. The good news is that for now I can still be two-thirds of a triathlete, and with a little more time I should be three for three. If the pain is stubborn, I can turn to a steroid injection at the site to help alleviate it. But that's a last resort. The bottom line is that it's going to take a supernatural force to keep me away from what I love. I'm a fighter.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
What does your favorite color (spandex) say about you?
As female triathletes, what we wear to train is just as important to us as what we wear going out. After all, training is what we spend the majority of our time doing: it's when we socialize and gossip, and it's how we unwind after a stressful day. Guys, chances are that when you meet us, we're typically attired in sports bras, running shorts, and sneakers. This may be confusing for those savvy gentlemen who are used to sizing up girls based on their outfits, make-up, and hair. But fear not! Out of the goodness of her heart, yours truly has created this helpful decoder. Who knows, it might just come in handy next time you try to hit on that girl that just flew by you on the sidewalk (HEYYY BABY!!)
Running Gear Decoder Guide (Finally, no more confusion!)
*The one in the black Nike running shorts: Says "I'm classy, ambitious, and driven." Put-together and analytical, this girl is committed to her routine and practical. Peel back her layers, though, and you'll discover there's more to her than meets the eye.
*The one wearing the quirky high socks: This girl is saying, "I'm fun, I'm funky, and I could care less what you think." She's funny, honest and always up for new adventures.
*The one in the blindingly bright shoes: "Look at my feet. Guess what? I'm fast, probably faster than you." She's confident, motivated, high-energy, and goes after what she wants.
*The one in the neon spandex: This girl believes in the philosophy "if you've got it, flaunt it" and never fails to capitalize on an opportunity to do just that. Everybody's looking at her? Even better. She's an attention seeker, an exhibitionist, and a wild card. Think you've got her figured out? Think again.
*The one who always matches: She's a girly girl, but don't let that fool you. Underneath her perfectionistic exterior is a girl who's clever and always one step ahead. She's charming and adept at dealing with people, and if you're not careful, she'll have you eating out of her hand.
So guys, there you have it. The only thing I ask is that you use this information wisely. After all, I wouldn't want to have to unleash my inner "neon spandex" on you ;-)
Running Gear Decoder Guide (Finally, no more confusion!)
*The one in the black Nike running shorts: Says "I'm classy, ambitious, and driven." Put-together and analytical, this girl is committed to her routine and practical. Peel back her layers, though, and you'll discover there's more to her than meets the eye.
*The one wearing the quirky high socks: This girl is saying, "I'm fun, I'm funky, and I could care less what you think." She's funny, honest and always up for new adventures.
*The one in the blindingly bright shoes: "Look at my feet. Guess what? I'm fast, probably faster than you." She's confident, motivated, high-energy, and goes after what she wants.
*The one in the neon spandex: This girl believes in the philosophy "if you've got it, flaunt it" and never fails to capitalize on an opportunity to do just that. Everybody's looking at her? Even better. She's an attention seeker, an exhibitionist, and a wild card. Think you've got her figured out? Think again.
*The one who always matches: She's a girly girl, but don't let that fool you. Underneath her perfectionistic exterior is a girl who's clever and always one step ahead. She's charming and adept at dealing with people, and if you're not careful, she'll have you eating out of her hand.
So guys, there you have it. The only thing I ask is that you use this information wisely. After all, I wouldn't want to have to unleash my inner "neon spandex" on you ;-)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Through the Looking Glass...
One of my favorite stories when I was younger was Alice in Wonderland. I have fond memories of being read to by my mother every night before bed and hearing the escapades of Alice, the Mad Hatter, and the Cheshire Cat. I remember particularly enjoying Lewis Carroll's sequel, Through the Looking Glass, because of its delightful idea that things were just the opposite than expected.
The more I think about it, the more I'm sure that this concept still fascinates me. The world of endurance training is a little like looking into a mirror: everything seems a little backwards. Actions that seem ordinary to us are perceived by those on the other side of the mirror as abnormal, strange, and even downright insane. That 8-miler this morning? To us, it's as normal as popping the toast in the toaster or turning on the coffeemaker. It's just what we do. After all, who wouldn't want to end the week with a 40-mile ride? But to those on the other side of the looking glass, it's as foreign as the letters on your t-shirt seem when you're looking in the mirror. What kind of people, they ask, enjoy 2-hour runs in the rain? Who on earth would consider a 3-hour cycling trip up and down hills "enjoyable"? Why would anybody get up at 5:00 AM on a Saturday to put their body through hours of torture and duress? How, they ask, can you do this?
I've only been a triathlete for a year, but I've been an endurance athlete (a runner) for much longer. Thus, I've grown accustomed to and have been hearing the arguments and expressions of disbelief from non-endurance athletes for some time now. However, it's only when I'm injured (like now) that I get the rare opportunity to "go through the looking glass" and see what life is like on the other side. Humorously, what I observe is just as alien and confusing to me as what the "normal" population sees when peering through the glass at us. It starts to drive me crazy around day 5 of sitting on the couch watching TV. Why, I wonder, is nothing good ever on? What kind of people enjoy sitting at home, or in the movies, or at the beach, or frankly just SITTING, anywhere? Why is it that every time I look down I'm shaking my knee, or twitching my foot, or just moving in general? How, I ask, can they do this?
I've only been a triathlete for a year, but I've been an endurance athlete (a runner) for much longer. Thus, I've grown accustomed to and have been hearing the arguments and expressions of disbelief from non-endurance athletes for some time now. However, it's only when I'm injured (like now) that I get the rare opportunity to "go through the looking glass" and see what life is like on the other side. Humorously, what I observe is just as alien and confusing to me as what the "normal" population sees when peering through the glass at us. It starts to drive me crazy around day 5 of sitting on the couch watching TV. Why, I wonder, is nothing good ever on? What kind of people enjoy sitting at home, or in the movies, or at the beach, or frankly just SITTING, anywhere? Why is it that every time I look down I'm shaking my knee, or twitching my foot, or just moving in general? How, I ask, can they do this?
If "normal" is determined by the number of people who agree on a particular school of thought, then we endurance athletes are certainly a minority, and an abnormal one at that. But if "normal" is a completely arbitrary designation--and I would argue that it is--then who's to say that we're the strange ones? I, for one, think we've got the right idea. Come on, take a baby step down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, just to see what our world is like. No? You'd rather stay home and watch "Oprah"? Suit yourself...if you change your mind, I'll be out slaying the Jabberwocky.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The infamous list...12 things guys should know before pursuing a female triathlete.
1. Training is more important than you. We'll try to fit you in sometime between our run, bike, and swim workouts.
2. Our bikes get more action than you ever will. Ride baby ride ;)
3. We love to eat. We are not ashamed of this. The way to our hearts is through our stomachs. Show us a yummy new restaurant or if you've got skills, cook us dinner. Just remember that bad food experiences don't sit very well with us.
4. We are frequently very, very sore. Attempt to remedy this through massage and you'll be ours forever...or at least for as long as our muscles are tired.
5. If we ask you to join us in some form of training (i.e. a run, bike, or swim), it's our version of asking you out on a date. Be flattered.
6. We frequently get up very early for races or workouts. If we say, "I can't go out tonight because I have to get up early tomorrow," it's probably true...although we've probably used this as an excuse at one point or another.
7. We'd prefer that you be an athlete of some sort so you can understand our passion for training. If you are a fellow runner/cyclist/swimmer or triathlete, even better. Just remember that this comes with one stipulation: You must be faster than us. If you're not...well, that's just awkward.
8. We have a trifecta of conversation topics, and it goes something like this: Training, food, and talking about you and the other guys in our lives. Expect that you and your antics will be thoroughly discussed on our next long ride or run.
9. We have no shame. We deck change and wear butt huggers to class. Modesty pretty much goes out the window when you're a triathlete. Riding, lube, chafing, and digestion are all common topics of conversation for us. But for your sake, we'll try to keep it to a minimum.
10. Shaved legs, spandex, and short shorts are not just for girls ;)
11. We're hard to impress, perfectionistic, and type-A at times. But we're also very dedicated.
12. We DO actually own nice clothes. When we're out, you probably won't recognize us at first. But we clean up very nicely ;)
Addendum:
~Do NOT attempt to pursue more than one of us at once. We're tighter with each other than we ever will be with you.
~If you snort, smoke, or shoot up anything...well, don't even bother.
The theory behind "In Transition"...
Every triathlete knows that transition is the area through which every athlete must pass in order to continue to the next phase of a race. But many underestimate its importance. Being ill-prepared in transition--the omission of one necessary item, the failure to grab that extra GU before the run--can impact a triathlete's entire race. It's amazing to me that one small, short section of an otherwise drawn-out test of endurance can play such a vital role in overall outcome and performance. As I sit here watching the rain slowly fill my low-lying driveway, it occurs to me that triathlon--and transition--is not so different from life itself. There are certainly many stages in life, but sometimes the most important and overlooked times are those in which we are "in-between". How we deal with the transitional periods in life affects our ability to deal with whatever comes next. I realize right now that I'm in transition between a whirlwhind spring semester and what I'm hoping will be an equally exciting fall semester of racing. But there's one problem. Namely, the boot that has been occupying my left foot for two weeks. It's so easy to get caught up in the crushing tide of frustration and anger that so often surrounds injury. I know this. After all, this isn't my first time wearing the ugly surgical shoe of shame. However, it's a little easier to deal with when instead of thinking of injury as a game-ender, I think of it as merely a "transitional" period. How I cope with this problem will definitely affect all of the training that follows it. The time off will make me hungrier, the understanding of the injury will make me smarter, and the mental vexation will make me tougher. No athlete emerges the same after being hurt, or rather, after being "in transition." Why would we want to? The athlete who never adapts is doomed to make the same mistakes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)