The emotional roller coaster of the past week has been like the worst bout of PMS but without the bloat. One minute I’m completely stoked and confident, the next I’m in a pool of tears ready to give up. I think the degree of “unknown” is getting to me. One of my tri tribe was kind enough to loan me a bike that weighs about one fifth what the Warthog weighs, but I’m terrified to go ride it, for fear of breaking it or whatever, so there it sits in my garage.
I can see light at the end of the tunnel, but is that light a door opening on a new way of life that involves riding and running and swimming? Or is it that cliched oncoming train? Maybe I’d feel differently if I had more time from the start of tri training to the actual triathlon date (Pro tip: 9 weeks might not be enough).
And oh god the money. From what I’ve spent so far, I could have gone to Hawaii on a painting excursion. Did I make the right choice when I signed up for this? What was I thinking? But then, just as soon as those thoughts hit, I’ll run into another triathlete and get a dose of encouragement. Or I'll see someone go by on their bike and think "I wish I was riding." Or someone in the office will say “oh my gosh, we’re so impressed!” and I’m back on the roller coaster of wanting to do this again.
My boss (and her boss) recommended I take Friday before the race off. I think they are trying to tell me something.
So this is it, kiddies. The next time all y'all see me, I'll be a USAT Certified triathlete. Not even Lance Armstrong can say that (right now anyway).
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