Around the corner...

Change, temptation, hope: find them in the ordinary and the extraordinary taste of salt enhanced 70% bitter chocolate.

The training continues, though the reality of potentially drowning in open water surfaces and resurfaces. I don't like my local pool and have been travelling across town to another site that shall remain nameless so as to prevent traffic jams of folks heading out there to swim in near perfect indoor conditions: competition size, practically private lane swimming. Haven't I become the swimming diva...an irony of olympic proportions given my utter lack of skill and endurance. Still, though, how is it that the newbie is the only one observing proper pool etiquette?

Also, for the record, I'm paying an outrageous amount of $$ to rent a bicycle and helmet for the bike segment of the triathlon. No doubt, this is equivalent to a local Indonesian's monthly salary and I hate getting hosed like that. I'm happy to contribute to the local economy, but not in this particularly odious, foreign-run way. I'm sure the locals aren't seeing the $70 U.S. it has cost me to have a bicycle and helmet for two hours. Anyway. I continue to train past this and understand my absolute privilege in being able to participate in the first place.

In the meantime, thankfully I've remained injury-free. I've moved apartments, finished a second job and submitted the final grades for my day job...almost.

Departure for Indonesia: three weeks. Ready or not.

Cheers.

Bricked

This little story requires a bit of a soundtrack.

A funny thing happened on the way to the pool today, especially if by "on the way" I mean two months of worrying about swimwear and appearance and getting kicked in the head and drowning. None of this has happened, of course, except maybe the worrying. The open water start for the Bali Sprint Marathon is another thing, but that's at the end of June and I have lots of anxiety time between now and then.

I wore my new freaky past-the-knee swimskin thing to the pool today for the first time. But, before I did this, I tried it on for a friend over my clothes last night. Within two minutes of prancing around in this very tight suit over my jeans and dress (you had to be there), the door bell rang...as if on cue.  I wasn't exactly ready for my "close-up" so to speak.

The person at the door was very gracious.

Me, I peeled the suit off along with a little (just a tiny bit) of my dignity. I figured if I can live through this humiliation, why not wear the darn thing at the pool. So, I did. So there. I lived to tell the tale and no one even noticed.

So much for self-absorption.

Let the bricking continue: before the 20 minute swim today, I ran for 50 minutes. I wore the skin-tight-swimming-thing under my running stuff -- felt like a girdle, though not terrible. I can live with that.

And this sign would be a relief to anyone, don't you think?

Happy training or whatever.

The Proof is in the Footing

...or footwear.

The truth is I haven’t been having the best time in the life outside of training for the Bali Sprint Triathlon or Hollywood Half or any other imminent race that I haven't signed up for yet. Then again, is there really life outside of these events? I’m not even sure what that means. What I do know is that I’ve never called myself a runner and I still don’t.  So,  I am in a perpetually ironic state, though this is nothing new. 

Robyn, thank you for getting me up and down some pretty treacherous times. And hills.

For now, I focus on the gear and the right gear will see me through. I’ve got my sights set on a race belt.  Also, I think I bricked. That’s the term, I’ve heard, for training two events back to back. I’m doing this in full force, though indoors in this chilly Celsius Canadian winter.  Cycling and treadmilling  one after the other at least four times a week. Swimming will start this week. I just can’t bear to be in the water in winter. It’s deeply psychological. Montreal: where folks really know how to form a queue for a bus.  Incredible.

And happy shroves, too.

Also, I joined a little Facebook running group called #IWouldRun500Miles -- I'm "Mary Shelley" and please don't ask. I don't care about identifying myself fully on this blog, but can't do this on Facebook for some reason. Anyway, the group is growing and is currently at 95 members.  I'm running the back of the pack there too. So what. Why don't you join us?

Suit Tracking

After much fanfare and starting up anxiety, my bathing suit still hasn’t arrived. The exact details of who was supposed to ship what and when are not all that important, except to note that I’ve never seen such corporate finger pointing. This is the new retail, I guess, with clients who are online and at the mercy of invisible companies and shippers.  The insipidly obsequious and insincere customer service made me kind of sick. Anyway. As it turns out, on a bus to Montreal from Toronto I totally pulled some sort of muscle on my lower right side. I’ll look it up in an anatomy book, but it feels thoracic to me. Thoracic…sounds like indigestion. My husband, Paul, has always said that if you eavesdrop on conversations in any running event, you’d think you were in a hospital emergency room.

 

I will believe the suit when I see it and then I will open the package and attempt to squish myself into it. 

 

Gym-bound for some cycling and treadmill work.

The Inaugural Entry

Okay. It's January 3rd and late into the night and early morning, I spent hours online looking at gear for training. I just ordered this suit and am hoping against hope that it isn't too small. I mean, who in God's name orders a bathing suit (or anything for that matter) without trying it on. Especially a bathing suit. The TYR Fusion Aeroback. I am sure it won't be too big.

 My theory on swimsuits has always been that there is no such thing as too big, not on me anyway. Then again, I am no competitive Olympic swimmer...plus, I figured this getup offers massive coverage. Massive and complete coverage. Also, swimming lessons wouldn't hurt. I don't want to be disingenuous here by emphasizing how naturally non/un-athletic I am.  I'm in decent physical condition. I don't want to present the the humiliation of sharing some watch-me-suffer-the-extreme-indignities of training. I want to document my progress, such as it is and may be. I don't even really talk about this with my closest friends. They don't know how I wept when I could not run a half marathon for which I had trained religiously in grotesque winter conditions: the first distance race ever for me... after I'd quit smoking (another story, one that has ended very well). Pulled calf: I've never had the injury since, though live in fear. I'll let you know how the suit works out -- a UPS truck will be delivering it in the next day or so.

My main recent training activity has been running, although I am a bit of a gym rat in less than fairweather conditions, which can be extreme in Montreal, where I currently live. I don't own a bike, but I have run over a dozen half marathons and other short distance races in the last three years. The truth is I have not improved my completion times at all. My inaugural 21K race in Toronto three years ago had a PB of 2:20, and I'm not talking peanut butter. My very first officially chip-timed race, a 10K,  resulted in what has become a PB of 1:03. Slow. I know.  Talk about peaking early and ironically, the finishing times have been going kind of downhill since then. I did cross the finish line last on a 5K fun run over fours years ago, but I thought (and still believe) that this had to do more with starting too fast, chatting as I was with the elite runner who eventually won the event.  How was I to know that this colleague (and now friend and mentor) would actually win? Oh how my arms felt like lead pipes and I couldn't breathe: a terrible sensation that I have been cautious not to repeat. You'll meet Barb, the aforementioned elite ultra marathoner and athlete, in this blog soon.

Anyway. I was the last Canadian to cross the half marathon finish line in Phuket, Thailand in last year's Run Paradise race event. Paradise indeed. And, two days ago in a New Year's Morning 10K run, in Toronto, Ontario, hosted by the Longboat Runners once again,  I found myself (last, with my husband, Paul)  behind a lovely 67 year old man who'd recovered from double hip replacement surgery.  We are in the background of all of his congratulatory finish-line photos and later had a wonderful breakfast with him. He's been running for 40 years. So this back of the pack thing isn't really new, but two days ago I almost quit the whole thing and had a kind of crisis. Why am I bothering was all I could ask myself.

I used to say that when something becomes a symbol, it's time to work on perspective. Running as metaphor...something like that.  I wasn't prepared for the symbol to become literal which seems to be happening to me.  My idea is to share something of myself as I train for my first sprint distance triathlon which will be in Jimbaran, Bali on June 24, 2012. I want to speak with other folks who are committed to training to tap into what drives them.  You'll have to believe me when I say that I am also critically aware that running faster would seem to be the most obvious and simple solution to this crise d'esprit. In the meantime,  I've signed up for two other distance races: The Bermuda Race Weekend, coming up January 13-15 (...and I've registered for three events for the Bermuda Triangle Challenge - one miler/10K/half marathon) and the Hollywood Half Marathon in Los Angeles on April 7.

Despite the whining about time, believe me again when I say I'm absolutely grateful to be doing this at all. Join  me in the ups and downs. Mostly ups, I hope. Could writing change the game, even slightly?