Freak Out!

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).

Now all I need is a cape...

Of all the things I dreaded about preparing for the triathlon, the wet-suit was the one I dreaded the most. I was looking forward to getting fitted about as much as I look forward to a pap smear. My fears did not exceed the reality. My strategy was pretty foolproof.  We (my super supportive hubby) and I got to Sports Basement in the Presidio right when they opened.  We headed for the back, where the tri gear is, and Chris took a seat on the comfy sofa.  I wandered around a bit looking at tri outfits (found one at an amazing discount) and after a few minutes an incredibly nice gentleman came to help me.

I gave him my weight and height details (I suppose the bright side is they don’t ask your age), and he came out with something that looked like a skinned seal.  “It’s new, so unfortunately there isn't a lot of ‘give’ in it yet.” He tells me to put it on “like putting on panty hose,” using the pads of my fingers so that I don’t tear it, and making sure the crotch is snug where it should be.  I take it into the dressing room, and start to wrestle with the rubbery jumble of skinny tubes that no way will fit.  After about 10 minutes of tugging and wriggling, I get it most of the way up my legs.  Nice Gentleman calls out “are you decent?” Me: “I’ve never been so indecent in all my life.”

Eventually I get it up over the caboose, and feel comfortable enough in my sports bra to venture out into the main area for help.  NG tugs the thing over my arms, and teaches me a trick of bending over to get the suit to puff out in front - which I’m supposed to grab and tug upward toward my chest.  Grab & tug, grab & tug. He zips it up, and warns me to make sure it is snug in the armpits and in the crotch, because those areas will fill with water.  He also warns me of chafing, providing grody pictures of customers who did not buy Body Glide. It looks like the worst rug burn ever, in the most sensitive places ever.  I buy some straight away.

Turns out after you get this much neoprene on, there’s no such thing as cellulite. It is by far the dorkiest thing I’ve ever worn, yet I’m smooth like a seal & look like a superhero. NG tells me that these suits are filled with tiny bubbles of air, to help you float. And he tells me (as does just about everyone else) that I have to do an open water swim prior to the event. Have to. Like something horrible will happen if I don’t. I only have two more weekends until the Big Day, so hearing this, the panic set in...

And then I turned it off.  I remembered why I’m doing this (for FUN). If I get in an open water swim before, then cool.  What is the worst that could happen? It takes me 5 minutes to adjust to the shock? It takes me so long that I’m the last out of the water? No matter what, it can’t possibly be the end of the world. I’ll be fine, because my goal is to have fun, and I’m already doing that.

A Tribe Called...

It’s hard to find your tribe sometimes.  I keep looking, but usually end up feeling like the odd one out. For starters, I’m at the tail end of the baby boomers, but don’t really relate to them. I’m not entirely comfortable with Generation X either, lazy slackers. Not many people my age (or my gender for that matter) play videogames or love anime & martial arts films the way I do. But I digress...

[Tom Waits - I don’t wanna grow up]

With triathlon training, it’s been a similar experience.  There’s no way I’ll be a HARD CORE PROFESSIONAL, and I’m not even as fast as a lot of people in my age group. By the way, in triathlons you’re either “professional” or an “age-grouper.” And if you’re larger, you’re a “Clydesdale” if male, or “ Athena” if you’re a female.  What’s an overweight older Athena to do? While I was researching books for my project, I’d stumble over titles like “How to Train for a Tri in Less than 7 Hours a Day!” There would be chapters on becoming an Ultra-Uber-Fitness Champ (“After a short 10 mile warm up run at a 8 minute pace...”) and nutrition (“eat and drink nothing but ProBars - sponsored by ProBars”), and stories of muscular young athletes who look like otters in the water and the challenges they face.  I’m pretty sure their challenges are nothing like mine.

Enter Jayne Williams, author of Slow Fat Triathlete. She is about my age, and started her career as a triathlete when she was 40 years old and weighed 220 lbs. This book is a really funny resource, and reading it helped keep me grounded in the fun part of exercise and training. Talk about “tribes,” she helped me realize that there are lots of people out there participating in triathlons who are not incredibly fit – people who are just like me. Her book isn’t just funny, it’s motivating and full of good advice for a layperson (how to avoid chafing, which she notes “the bigger you are, the more opportunities you have to learn about chafing.” Even my half-Ultra friends give it kudos. So, if you're thinking about trying a triathlon but aren't sure it's for you, give her book a read. You might find yourself proud to be part of the tribe that doesn't let something like age, size or speed hold you back.