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?

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.

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.