It took considerable effort and most of the day – and a sunny day at that, which would normally help more than it did – but I think I have finally successfully completed the most recently needed headeroidectomy.
This time last year, a couple days before the Memphis in May Sprint Tri, I was also a bitch, but it was born of fear. Heart-pounding, jump-out-of-the-car-and-run-to-the-portajohn fear. I wish I were a better person, a person who could panic with grace and good humor, but so far in my life that has never happened. At least for now I’m stuck being a jerk. Hopefully I’m shortening the jerk duration but I have no proof.
I’ll tell you the difference a year makes. I have no reason to believe that you will believe what I’m about to say because I sure didn’t, and I’m the one who heard the words come out of my own mouth, although I could have been channeling some long dead Egyptian god of the Nile, in which case it would have been my own mouth I guess, but not my own words, right? Anyway, you can imagine my shock when one day my mouth said out loud, “I’d like to get a swim in the lake.”
I turned around reallyquick to be sure Jeff Dunham was not standing behind me playing a practical joke but, no, it was just me and Murphy, and Murph was busy chasing a squirrel and barking. He’s good and all, but I’m pretty sure he cannot be a ventriloquist and bark at the same time. Apparently it was my mouth which said that.
Obviously it was surprising. It was not what I expected my mouth to say, but there you go, it did, and when I thought about it I realized that my mouth was right. Brain also thought it would be nice to swim in the lake.
So, we did. Becky and John and Jay came over and we jumped in the cold lake water squealing like girls even though two of us were boys and we swam around until the cold water made us get a little vertigo. Then we climbed out of the lake, had a beer or two and ate pizza. It was quite a nice afternoon and I was pleased.
I’ve ridden my bike in circles clipping/unclipping, I think I know how to shift. I may not really love riding the bike but the panic is mostly gone. The swim was actually fun, especially the beer part afterward, which was my favorite. And, of course, all that’s left after that is the run.
My training is not where I wish it were, it’s harder to run slower than I was running last year, which means it’s near impossible to run faster, and faster would still be slower than it used to be. This makes my ego hurt, and it probably hurt your brain reading that sentence but I swear it makes sense. So I know that I’m not going to kill the triathlon this weekend. I’m just going to swim without panic, ride my bike with a normal workout heart rate and finish up with a run.
Then – and this is where the genius comes in – you are going to be soooo impressed – all afternoon Saturday I will sit around the pool in the sunshine with my friends and free beer.
I repeat – all I have to do is go for a little swim, tool around on my bike, and then run, and I get all the free, warm, soft sunshine I want! And if I get too warm in the free sunshine, I can get in the pool! Then I can get in the sun! Then the pool!
Okay, plot development. This is the sad part of the movie where the heroine is deathly ill and the hero is gone off to war or something, I don’t know. Wherever heroes go.
Current forecast for Tunica this Saturday: feel like temp of 50, 60%-70% chance of rain. Mostly cloudy and mid 60’s for the afternoon. I felt very frustrated, which is quite 3 year-old-of me, albeit an improvement over being very 2-year-old-ish. Crank crank pout and stomp feet. DON’T LIKE. Make it go away.
Of course it’s not going anywhere, unlike our flake of a hero.
So this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to get wet in the water, then I may get wet on the bike, which I’ll be riding in already wet attire, and then I’ll run in wet attire which wouldn’t get any drier regardless, it will get wetter with rain, or with sweat, or with both. I’m going to think of the participants who are doing both the Saturday and the Sunday race, with a 40% chance of thunderstorms Sunday morning also. I’m going to think of Becky’s bike breaking last Saturday, and I’m going to think about all the people who wish they had the luxury of running, biking and/or swimming but they don’t, and I may do it soaking wet and cold. Who knows?
Then, as long as I don’t fall off the bike or on my face, I’ll be done. If I do it without complaining and with grace and charm I will be a heroine, at least in my own eyes.
And – the beer will still be free.