Lurk Mode Disengage, Triathlons Go

Too Long Didn't Read Summary at bottom.

I spent the better part of last year just reading the forums thinking about trying a Triathlon. I also spent the majority of last year puttering around on a bike losing weight, thinking of racing. I also spend my evenings imaging myself crossing the line and being declared an Ironman. I was also 330lbs.

I chose to do a 24 hour mountain bike race *as a team*at the end of the summer for my grand initiation. It was painful but I never quit, and I turned in some good times, but over the course of the summer I had lost 40lbs.

I ran once during that time. I hated it, I stopped after 2K, my knees were on fire, and my brain who had been a staunch supporter during my 24 hour race was keenly advising me that there were cold beers in the fridge... I gave up, went home, cracked open a cerveza, and threw a steak on the grill, and promptly divorced my Ironman aspirations on the ground of irreconcilable differences.

I continued to cycle through the winter, and partake in "spin" classes, where I would be killing myself while watching people with too much money invested in personal training in full track suits just pedal quietly in a corner hoping nobody noticed that they'd try and lose weight through osmosis.

I dropped another 30lbs over the winter... and was challenged at one point to captain a relay team for a full marathon. Challenge accepted. I threw one day of "running" a week into my schedule. Consisting of running to Tim Hortons, getting a coffee and walking home. About 3k in total. My body would resist running as much as possible... making even household chores more enjoyable then putting on the shoes. To the point where my coffee tasted bad.... so I stopped drinking coffee, but kept running.

I continued to train for Paris to Ancaster, one of the more notorious races for Ontario riders, and this year was to be no exception. The mud, rain, snow, wind, and whatever else mother nature decided to hate on us with was there. I was surprised animals didn't fall from the sky.

I crushed the race *For me I crushed it, I'm hardly pro, and have no illusions of performance other then for my wife*. I felt good the entire time, and even though I was covered in mud by the end, and my quads were on fire, I was grinning ear to ear, and cannot wait for next year. I wasn't sub 3h like I wanted to be, but not many were. Also, a lot of vets said it was the worst race they've seen, finishing was victory.. and emotional for me. I had to go find a quiet spot and collect myself after I had realized I finished this.

I started running after P2A seriously... and the more I ran, the more not running appealed to me. I never really timed myself, I never really grasped distances, I just threw on the HRM and ran for an hour, walking less, and running more each week.

Fast forward to this past weekend. I have dropped a lot of weight, hovering 250. And I'm warming up in the rain. I am also wrestling with a hamstring injury from bike training earlier that week because showing off rewards people like me with instant Karma.

And just like that I'm done 5k.

The most incredibly anti climatic workup to a race I have ever experienced. I wanted more. I was angry at myself for not training harder, and I was angry that what I thought I'd trundle my way through, ended up being only 30 min of running. I kept waiting for myself to die out. I kept waiting for my brain to play the "this sucks, you can walk, nobody will care" card... and there it was, the finish line, the tag, and my partner running away.

Nothing.... I was dumbfounded. In the rain, I realized that I had divorced my Ironman aspirations much to early. 

I immediately signed up for a sprint triathlon later this summer so I can properly train for it. I plan on working hard, and progressively moving to larger and larger distances... but I realized there, that Triathlons are not out of my reach, and that if I do work at it, one day I will be able to hear *Bib Number* YOU ARE AN IRON MAN.

TL:DR: Cool Story Bro, Clyde learned how to run.

So ring the bell, another Clyde in the stable.