Musings from a former triathlete making her way back....part 1

So I laid in bed Saturday night and for the first time in months the thought of waking up early, heading out before the heat, getting in a couple of miles, watching the sunrise as my heart rate did the same, feeling my body temp increase as the sweat broke out over my body, my arms, face, chest, legs, feeling the burn in my muscles, the quickening of my breath didn't actually bring a yawn to my face.

For the first time, in I don't know HOW long...okay, yeah, I do....since February, 2005, since my training weekend at Lake San Antonio, I actually YEARNED to feel all those things and lay in bed unable to sleep for the excitement that washed over my body at the thought of those first steps out my front door.

God, the last few months have been a blur. A blur of good and bad, dark and light. The dark got *realllly* dark there for awhile but during that time there were moments of light that I held on to. I succumbed to my own weaknesses, admitted I'm human and just_shut_down.

I
shut
down

How weird, after a life of constant activity....a life where I grew up playing sports since I could walk, where if I wasn't running with my tail on fire I was bored, that I could fall into the slump of the last few months as easily as I have.

I can honestly say here that during that time I absolutely never thought and/or missed working out. Is that sad or what? I went some triathlons to support some friends, saw some others run....yet didn't miss a god_damn thing.

sigh.

I lettered in 4 sports in high school, was mvp in 3 of them, all-league in 2 of them and all high school glory days aside, am a pretty god damn spectacular athlete..... have been since I was wee high and I flunked out of ballet and took up softball.

and i didn't give a damn.

I'm someone who looks at people sweating and sympathy sweat.

I'm someone who watches sports vignettes set to music and gets misty.

I watched Kari Strug in the Olympics and started sobbing the moment she finished her last pommel horse run.

I'm someone who cries watching Kona every year.

My favorite movies revolve around sports for christs sake! baseball, football, tennis, cycling...the come from behinds, the ones where you see them sweat blood, where they overcome odds, where if they're *not* doing what they love they're dying inside.....

someone who appreciates, respects, reveres watching people put their body in truly amazing situations from Lance down to some kid in a grade school game who just_won't_give_up and finishes the race.

and i couldn't even look in the drawer with all my tri gear.

I hid my bikes.

I shoved all 4 pairs of running shoes to the back of my closet.

My tri tops, shorts, wetsuit, goggles, caps....even my most prized posession...MY POLAR S625X!!!! (with footpod mind you, cadence sensor AND speedometer!)....a spare drawer in a spare room where no one would find them....it is there they have been.

i didn't miss it.

at all.

but things have finally changed.

things are changing.

I'm dreaming again of sweat. I'm dreaming of the finish line. I'm dreaming of the rides where I crest the top of a hill, and as I bring my heart rate down, view the valley below me and think God DAMN I LOVE RIDING MY BIKE!

I'm dreaming of those runs where I bitch and moan and cry and swear and curse everyone on heaven and earth and then....hit my high, find my stride, get past what I've always lovingly referred to as the "shitty first mile" and just....run.

I'm' dreaming of open water swims....of water lapping over me, looking down into green murkiness, wondering in the back of my mind if the Loch Ness Monster could really actually live in lake Sonoma, and just falling into the rhythm of stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe....stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe...stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe....and LOVING IT, white caps and all.

I've started reviewing these boards again, watching others around me take on the challenge day after day, fit the workouts in between work, children, relationships, strife, stress and frustration and continue to do it b/c it FEELS GOOD and feel that inkling in my belly, that twitch, that flip flop of my stomach and think....that could be me once again. I miss these people. I miss this comradery. I miss this family.

This road I've been on is long. This is a road I do not want to ever u-turn on. Call it a reallllllllllly bad Stephen King novel (his short story The Mist comes to mind) and I'm done, I'm past it, I've made it through stronger for having gone through it but still wondering "why the Hell did I HAVE TO GO THRU THIS???" If I have any more "character building" moments in my life I'll become my own freakin' novel.

Alas, though, I'm moving forward and will continue to move forward.

This isn't a post about the brick I did today.

This isn't a post about the race I've signed up for next month.

This is a post about someone losing their way, giving in to pressures around me, losing sight of what is me and fighting, scratching, kicking and screaming my way to get back.

I'm still fighting and kicking, but each day it gets a little easier.

So I will continue.



Edited by crpadiem 2005-07-25 3:45 AM