To tri or not to tri

So, I'm contemplating whether or not I should still do the triathlon I'm signed up for next month. It's an Olympic distance (1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run) and it's down in D.C. Most of my teammates are registered and I know it would be fun to head out of town for a few days but I'm not sure if I'm ready. There is actually a sprint triathlon that same weekend, a little closer to home, that I may do instead. I just don't know...

Monday Morning Coming Down

Ever get those Monday blues? I 'm a little embarrassed to admit that the blues and I are old friends. Actually, more like constant enemies. So, to defeat today's battle I made sure to attend my boot camp class after work. And I love me some boot camp, so there should have been a silver lining at the end of my day. Not so much. I headed to class fairly tired but determined to get in a good workout. You know, something to save me from my funk. The thing with boot camp though is that it's taught by a few ex-marines who love to pick on you. Yell at you. Hit you. Uh, yeah. Sometimes they throw a few (harmless) punches. I guess it's meant to get you riled up. That doesn't work for me. 

In the middle of our push up set, one of the instructors came over and slapped my arm. And I mean slapped. It really hurt. He did it again. And again. Usually I'm okay taking the abuse but not today. I told him if he hit me again, I was leaving. And guess what—he stopped. I won the battle but my mood took a turn for the worse! Okay, so there may have been a tear or two rolling down my check but people could have mistaken it for sweat. Plus, I always get really red when I work out, so that could explain my flushed face. Yeah, that's it. Sweat and I was really hot.

Foe No More!

I conquered the pool…or at least today’s swim workout. As a member of a triathlon club in NY, each week I’m sent a schedule of swim, run, and bike workouts that I’m supposed to follow. *Supposed to* being the operative words. Up until a few weeks ago—before I decided to boycott training (bigger issue to be discussed later) —the run and bike portions were usually no biggie. The swim now, that’s my Achilles heel. It’s what distinguishes the triathletes from the duathletes—or so they say. (Who are “they”? Beats me.) Anyway, I’d take a quick gander at the swim schedule and do a ball-park, make-shift workout on my own. Hey, swimming is really hard. I survived the pool all these years by either not swimming or by doing the ever so popular doggy paddle. But that was the old me. Today I printed out the workout, put it in my plastic sheet protector and headed to the gym. After the first twenty minutes, I wanted to die. Or at least go and get lunch. But no. “Swim on” I kept telling myself. I’m not sure if it was the image of Starbuck frappuccinos dancing in my head or if, daresay, I’m actually improving, but drill after drill I plowed on. I actually started to feel pretty good once I got my rhythm down. I left the gym looking a bit of a fright and with a horrible case of goggle-eyes, but with a smile on my face. As a reward for my hard work, and because I forgot my lunch, I treated myself to a Subway sandwich. Eat fresh.

NYC half—mishap

Today was supposed to be a pretty big day for me—running wise. I was registered for the NYC half marathon and seeing that I'm training for the NY marathon this coming November, I really needed to get in a long run. But the universe was working against me. My boyfriend went to pick up our numbers yesterday but for some reason, the lady handling the registration wouldn't let him grab mine. This rarely happens. So, my next and only option was to pick up my number by 6am today. This sounds reasonable, right? Except instead of going to bed early like I planned, I met my boyfriend for a drink, which in turn led to two. Still optimistic that I would run in the morning, I set my alarm for 5:00am only to shut it off, fall back asleep, and wake up at 6:07am. Needless to say, I did not run. I spent the morning watching the race coverage on the news, feeling guilty minute by minute. What are you going to do? Hardcore training starts tomorrow. No excuses. 

Better late than never...

I’m a very goal-oriented person. I like to aim for something and push myself until I attain whatever it is that I’ve dreamt up. A few months ago, nay a few years ago, I decided I wanted to do a triathlon. It wasn’t until the beginning of the summer that I firmly decided I would start training for one. I joined a team, bought a bike and a whole lot of gear, and I was on my way. Last weekend I participated in my first race—sort of. The swim portion was canceled due to unsafe water conditions; it was replaced by a 1.5 mile run. No biggie. I’m a runner and have been so for years. During the 15.5 mile bike portion, it started to sprinkle. Then rain. Then thunder and lightning hit. Needless to say, these weren’t the optimal conditions for riding a bike. Regardless, I plowed through and was about to start the final run when I heard over the loud speaker that the race was canceled. Canceled? It was heartbreaking. My first triathlon turned into a duathlon that I couldn’t even finish. But that’s not the end of my tri days. I have another one coming up in September, and I know it couldn’t get any worse. Could it?