What, what, what was I thinking?
I must have had a psychotic break.
There must have been a crack in the earth because today, today I cannot for the life of me, tell you, why I ever thought training for a triathlon was a good idea.
Sure I was motivated by fitness, the possibility of six-pack abs, jiggle free thighs, and the ability to mow down pounds of chocolate, but the real motivation was knowing at the end I’d feel like a bad ass. I mean come on, I plan on feeling like the queen of bad ass-ery (mom, dad, sorry about the language) after swimming, biking, and running in consecutive events.
So the tri meltdown started last night when I couldn’t get my tire pump to inflate my tires. I tried and tried and tried and tried to get the gauge on my valve and every time I stuck it on it flew off after the first pump. My tire was as flat as a flounder. I felt like a total idiot. Who doesn’t know how to use a tire pump? This girl, right here.
The only thing that would calm me down: a few episodes of the Gilmore Girls .
Exhaustion set in and I headed for bed, only to wake with the terror of knowing I had flat tires and I needed cash. CASH! I didn’t have time to go to the ATM last night because I was too busy attempting to INFLATE MY TIRES!!!
So, now I’m freaked out about my tires, being cashless and having to get to my swim/bike/run destination.
I’m sweating and my stomach is churning and all I can think is: Holy Lord, it’s going to be twice as bad on the day of the actual race. Quit, quit while you’re ahead and briefly enjoyed all of this!
I frantically text my friend Brigid to make sure she’ll be there with a working pump, while also schlepping the 100 pieces of equipment needed for this mess to my car.
Brigid gives me two thumbs up on the pump, while probably wondering what kind of a dope doesn’t know how to inflate her own tires.
Car is loaded, I’ve made it to an ATM, cash is in had, my foot is on the gas, and I’m off!
I arrive 30 minutes early to my destination. Why am I such a freak?
Now my coach has us by the lake, talking to us about the open water swim. Yes, you read it right: OPEN WATER SWIM. As in I freely volunteer to get in an open body of water, in May, when it could be 50 degrees or 100 degrees, who the heck knows, but chances are the water will be cold.
Yes, I am a genius.
All I can think about is how cold my face, hands, and feet will be. Then I begin to wonder what it will look like when I attempt this 750 meter mad dash to some buoy, then hurl my cold, frozen body on the shore and attempt to tear off my wetsuit and use my numb fingers and toes to work the bike.
SERENITY NOW!
Now I’m on the bike and it’s cold. I still don’t know how to dress for biking in the cold and it is next to impossible to keep my feet warm with the wind whipping through these silly bike shoes.
At some point I lose the majority of the feeling in my toes, my quads are burning, I’m tired and depressed because it’s COLD! Biking cold is double cold and it makes me mad, so all I can do is focus on the fact that I’ll be running soon and at least I’m good at that.
With lightening speed I get off the bike, tear off the helmet, gloves, pants, shoes, and jacket and toss on my running shoes and running hat.
I’m on the trail, it feels like I’m running on two frozen bricks.
I want to die. I say every curse word I can think of in my head. I then begin to seriously question my sanity and consider asking some pedestrians if they will call Bellevue and have someone come and pick me up.
Run is done.
I am not dead.
I brought all of this on my own, crazy self. It’s just like the time I ran a marathon. I said I’d never do another one.
Man, am I full of bright ideas.