The Constants

I rolled out of bed this Tuesday more groggy than usual for one of my bi-weekly early morning track workouts.  I glanced at the clock--6:09--and realized I'd overslept by more than a few minutes.  I managed to pull myself together relatively quickly and hopped in my car to drive over to the track.  Tired and impatient, I jabbed at the set stations in my car, hoping to find something upbeat to put me in the mood to be speedy.  All the stations, however, were either playing songs I didn't really like or featured the co-anchors yammering loudly to each other.  Frustrated, I hit eject on my CD player to see if I had anything in there worth listening to and found that it was an old CD I had made back in high school.  "Tell me baby/ What's your story?" crooned Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and I happily jammed along.  I smiled to myself.  My love for this song--actually, this band--hasn't really changed at all since high school, I thought.  Oddly enough, this was reassuring in some strange way.  It's probably easier to count the things that haven't changed in the years since I made that mix than the things that have.  Don't get me wrong--I believe change is a good thing, and I consider myself a fairly adaptable person.  The desire for something constant, though, is alive in everyone.  Sometimes I think it's part of what drew me to running and later, triathlon.

I guess you could say that training and I have been in a relationship for 6 years now.  It hasn't always been pretty.  In fact, at times it's been downright ugly.  The thing is, though, it's always been there.  I am vulnerable out there on the track, on the course, and in the pool in ways that I would never allow myself to be in everyday life.  I can put it all on the line in a workout or a race and perhaps fail miserably--but know that it will all still be there tomorrow.  No matter what else is going on in my life, my workout will always be there.  When it goes well, it can turn around my entire day.  When it goes badly, I try to brush it off and remember that there is always tomorrow.  The athletic setting, at least for me, creates an honesty and rawness that is hard to duplicate in day-to-day life.  People are complicated, but training by comparison is simple.  You either make the interval or you don't.  You accomplish your goals in a workout or you don't.  And if you don't, you assess, move on, and do better next time.  I believe that some of the purest, strongest bonds are made between training partners.  Sure, there is always going to be some competitiveness.  But when it comes down to it, you've suffered together, and knowing someone else's pain as intimately as you know your own brings you close to them in a way that few others can understand.  My closest friends--my "constants"--are without question the girls I've run, biked, and swam alongside these past few years. 

I know that eventually I will leave here.  The nature of the college life is that everything is continually changing.  Classes change, living circumstances change, and try as I might to hang on to those who are important to me, people come and go as well.  Now that I'm at the midpoint of my college career here, the reality of leaving seems closer with every day that passes.  Things will change again in a very big way.  However, I think we deal with change sometimes by having at least a few constants.  Training will always be one of those for me, as will my family and hopefully the close friends I've made throughout the years.  There are also some things about me that will never change, and that reassures me.  I might have to grow up soon, but I will always have the intensity that pushes me to be an endurance athlete and helps me love with everything I've got.  The cliff-jumping, adrenaline-filled, fun-loving little girl inside of me will always live on.  Five or ten years from now, many things will certainly be different.  But one thing I know for sure:  I will still be that girl belting out "Tell Me Baby" in her car with the windows down.