Just Tri Me

You're NEVER in a million years going to guess what THIS post is about. 

I have never been an athlete.  I was on the tennis team in high school -- for one year.   Coach Jerry Clemens and all of his slimy, lecherous ickyness pretty much made me want to cut my hands off rather than serve or practice my backhand even one more time.   We'll say that after that one Spring season, I chose instead to stay home and wash my hair.  Sports -- yeah.  Not my thing.  I was good with that.

I have never thought of myself as an athlete.  A few months after Thomas was born, Chi convinced me to buy another jogging stroller so we could run together.  You know, he could push one child while I could push the other -- all while running.  Uphill.  For the first time ever in my life.  With an extra 20 pounds of stroller and baby and who knows how much baby weight.  I think I bought the thing just to humor him.  He loves to be active.  He's my active hero.  But, let's face it.  Sometimes I thought my active hero was going to wear me out with all of the activity he wanted to be active doing.  I was exhausted, I had a baby and an uber-active mini-Chi, and now I had a jogging stroller that I was going to be expected to be active with.  

Well, as soon as Wee Chi was old enough to be safely strapped into the thing, off we went.  Up the hill.  Every other day.  I was an athlete in training.  It was far from enjoyable and it kicked my butt every single time.   Chi would drive me nuts singing his military-style jodies and "Quarter mile, call the ball!" and "In through your nose, out through your mouth" crap.  I was barely making it every time and SO very thankful for the wrist safety strap on the jogger because it would keep my child from being hurled out of the stroller when I inevitably keeled over mid-run.  I think I remember many times when my six-month old would crawl over my sweaty body as it lay lifeless on the living room floor after a run.  I was about to die, and there he was smiling and not caring how stinky and smelly and sticky I was.  

Before long, I kinda sorta began liking the runs.  And I still do. I kinda sorta crave them now.  Sometimes they still kick my butt, but more often than not they don't.  The truth is, I have to thank my husband/trainer, because if not for his vision of together-time from behind the wheel of a jogging stroller, I never would have started.  My neighborhood is hilly, and now I run up the hills.  All the way.  And I don't have to stop at the top.  In the beginning,  I remember telling Chi how much I hated the sweat and he would reply with some marketing-type slogan to try to pull me through the run, something stupid like, "Be at one with the sweat."  WTH?!  At ONE with sweat?  Me?  No.  Did I mention that the name my parents gave me at birth -- Sarah -- actually means "princess"?  Yup.  Fitting, huh?  Princesses don't like to sweat.   I don't really like to sweat.  However, now, I don't mind it so much.  Sweat means you're working hard.  That's what you're body is supposed to do.  Why did it take me all these years to realize that?

Which brings me to the point of this post.

In a million years, never did I ever think I would do anything more than run.  I thought running was the end-all-be-all, the best way I could challenge myself.  I thought a 5K was really the most I could ever push myself.  And  never in a million years did I think I would ever even contemplate doing anything more than that.  But I am.  And I'm not just thinking about it.  I'm doing it.  Just like Nike says.  Just do it.

Never in a million years did I think I would be registering for a sprint triathlon.  Never in a million years did I think I would be training for one.  Me.  Yes.  Princess.  Can you believe it?  She's training.  A few friends of mine, moms just like me, did one last Spring, and they finished.  Without dying.  They crossed the finish line.  I have been thinking about this for awhile until last week, when I was talking to one of them.  She asked if I was really considering it and I told her I was.  Well, long story short and five friends later, I'm doing it.  We're doing it.  And I'm so excited!  I am learning about all sorts of new things about transitions and "bricks" (doing two of the three events back-to-back in training)...see how smoothly I slid that uber-athletic-type word in there like I knew what I was talking about!?  HA!  Although not a full triathlon, it's a great destination.  A 225-yard swim followed by a 9-mile bike ride followed by a 2-mile run will be, by far, the biggest challenge this body has ever faced.  And I'm not stopping.  Screw that.

For once in a million years, I'm thinking about something important, that's for sure.  Something important to me.  Something important for me.  For once, I am thinking of myself  as something besides a princess.  I think I'm kinda sorta... an athlete.  Did I just admit that?   It's kinda sorta exciting.  "Athlete", I have decided, is a state of mind before it's the state of your body.  You have to think about yourself doing it.  You have to think about how you'll get yourself through the tough spots and the "quitter moments".  You have to think about yourself succeeding.  I'm thinking about finishing something big.  I know it won't be easy, and as frightening as it is to see myself amidst the struggle, I can easily see myself crossing the finish line.  I'm determined...you know I am.  I'm gonna do it.
 I can do it.  I will do it.
I will be at one with the sweat.

May 20, here I come.  Don't believe I can?

 Just tri me.