Triathlon Training

It had been a very long while since I've updated this blog and figured, as I'm on this momentous journey to do three sporting events, back to back, in a competitive atmosphere (you know, like, a race), it made sense to chronicle some of the ups and downs I encounter along the way.  This isn't my first foray into non-traditional physical activity.  I became obsessed with Bikram a few years ago.  Then stopped.  A few years ago I was in the gym and on the squash court about 5-6 times every week.  Then I stopped.  Then last year I decided to try this triathlon thing because my activity ADHD told me I couldn't just do one thing forever and be content.  I have to do a bunch of things in order to remain interested.

So, yeah, 3 sports?  Why the hell not.  And, I mean, when those sports are all heavily cardio based, it's not so bad when this is your mindset every now and again.

Not to say I advocate binging on junk food, but shit.  I seriously get in this type of way fairly frequently.  I'm working on it, though.  God is not through with me yet, despite trying to be many times.  I won't let Him quit me LOL.

So.  To provide some background, let us remember that triathlons involve three sports: swimming, biking, and running.

I totally had the running down.  Mostly.  In my mind, I was all like.....

But on the trails, I was all like......

I did some obstacle races......lemme stop lying.  I did A SINGLE obstacle race and love-hated it.  But mostly I did regular, straight runs like the Manchester Road Race on Turkey Day, and various jogs around my neighborhood and on trails close by.  I was super slow and didn't care.  I was getting my cardio in and at least, in good weather, I wasn't stuck on the damn treadmill of boredom death.

So running was fine.  I had that under control.

But there were two other events.

Swimming.  I didn't know how to swim.  At all.  So, in August 2014 when I registered for the Tri to Help "try a tri" (as my friend Amy calls it), I knew I had an uphill battle.  Thankfully my gym had a pool, so at least I could learn or practice or do something.  I only had a beach lounging bathing suit, no goggles, no heart rate monitor, no swim cap.  Nothing.

Just sad and pathetic.

But before I went all out, I told myself I MUST learn the basics.  I had to learn how to swim freestyle the PROPER way.  Up to that point, my version of swimming was to pretend I was doing the most in my stroke while keeping my head out of the water and thrashing my head from side to side in a dramatic attempt to look like I knew what I was doing.  Think this.....

At the most, I could get halfway down a 25 meter pool before I had to stop, take several breaths to get my heart rate out of the Heavens, and then start again for the actual other end.  Can you imagine the embarrassment?  I can't.  I don't embarrass easily.

So I started from scratch.  I scoured YouTube for videos because I couldn't afford a swim coach, and certainly not for an indoor, timed, try a tri.  I needed to save that for the big time.  With every video I found with some clear instructions, I found myself getting better and better, but slowly.  I was spending about 3 times a week in the pool, around 45 minutes to an hour each time.  It wasn't enough because I wasn't improving at the speed I wanted.

So I started swimming everyday, for at least an hour, for three weeks.  Then!  Then I started seeing results.  Now I was all like....

Just all kinds of bilateral breathing, stroke was smooth like butter, and I went from only being able to swim 50 meters (after getting through that dreaded half a lap bullshit) to 1700.  In three weeks.  I learned how to breathe underwater, turn my head and not inhale (i.e. snarf) all the chlorine in the vicinity, and settle into a decent race rhythm that, while slow, got me where I needed to go.  #rockstarstatus.

So I did the "try a tri" and placed ok.  It was 10 minutes in the pool, 30 minutes on the stationary bike (a spin bike), and 20 minutes on the treadmill.  I did some time trials early on in my training, but got lazy once I realized I could swim LOL.  Because why not?  But I was glad that I was able to finish the event and not be completely dead on the inside and outside at the conclusion of things.  I had accomplished a major goal and I was proud.

And then I stopped doing everything movement oriented and began eating everything in sight.  Between my house and my job, I pass these things on a regular basis...

And at any of the multiple CVSs and gas stations, I will stab you and your best friend for this...

So.  Every bit of progress I made, from a weight loss perspective and an overall fitness perspective spiraled uncontrollably down the toilet during the worst part of this God awful New England/CT cold ass winter where every other day there were, like, 8 inches of snow on the ground.  The only time there wasn't 8 inches on the ground was when there was, you know, like 14 inches on the ground.  Because, again, why not?

So, in January I did one smart thing.  Knowing the winter was going to steal all of my joy and motivation and zeal for life, I did the only thing that made sense.  I registered for not one - but TWO actual triathlons.  Like the ones that take place out of doors during warm times of the year.  I figured that the registrations would force me out of the house and into the gym.

I figured wrong.  I was like whatevs.

But then March rolled around, and I was rolling around in March-literally, and I realized I needed to either get all of my shit together or have a whole stadium full of seats.

.....or look like a TOTAL ass during the races.  And that was not an option.  Anyone who knows me know that at the VERY least I'm gonna give this 100% so I don't, you know, look like a total reject who didn't train and miraculously thought she could swim a mile, bike for 24, and then run 6 miles after a night of drunken shenanigans.  Who do I look like?  An Olympic athlete?

So.  Toward the middle of March I needed to tackle the third part of the triathlon and the part that caused me THE greatest angst imaginable.  The bike.

You see, normal people learned how to ride a bike when they were children and they rode their bikes all over the earth and developed a simple ease with this two wheeled contraption of death.  I, however, did not have so fortunate a childhood and did not learn how to ride a bike until a friend of mine, my senior year in high school, took pity on me and insisted that she teach me.  So I learned how to ride a bike at the age of 17.  Do you have any idea what it's like to learn how to ride a death trap when you are KEENLY aware of all the things that can go wrong?  Do you?  Prolly not.  But I learned.

And then after I graduated from high school, I bought a bike with money from a graduation present.  Too bad when I went off to college, I left my bike in my mother's basement and it is still there to this day.  I didn't get on another bike until I was in my mid twenties.  I was on vacation in the Dominican Republic with my brother/bestie and we decided to do a bike tour of the (safe part for tourists) island.  Everyone was rolling along merrily with their bikes.  I got on mine, and proceeded to immediately pedal into a rose bush.

Ever fall into an entire rose bush?

I did not get on a bike ever again after that tour and I had a knot on my left knee the size of 5 golfballs and hobbled around the resort for the rest of our vacation.

So, you can imagine my tremendous apprehension when I realized I could not get out of the bike portion of this three sport event, so I had to bite the bullet and buy a bike and then, like with swimming, teach myself how to ride.  I did a bunch of research about bikes, good bikes, best bikes for triathlons, and realized I was way overwhelmed.  I found some groups on Facebook and also found a bunch of actually helpful articles online.  I visited a bunch of bike shops but never did a test ride because THERE WAS NO WAY I WANTED ANYONE KNOWING I COULDN'T RIDE A BIKE AT THE AGE OF 37!!!

I ultimately settled on this bad boy right here.  I named him Omar because, obvi, he is sleek and black and you should fear his awesomeness when you see him coming over a hill or down a straightaway or something bike related that happens.

So.  I finally OWNED my own bike as a grown up person.  Now I had to teach myself how to ride it.  Thankfully, I live across the street from a middle school.  This school has a HUGE parking lot, built for all kinda cars and buses and vans and what not.  Perfect place to teach yourself how to ride a bike.  So one morning I put on all my gear (helmet, gloves, etc.) and set out across the street.  I gingerly walked Omar to where we needed to be and that was safely BEHIND the school building, out of any car's line of sight.  In the .15 miles behind the building, I spent 45 minutes teaching myself how to ride a bike.  I wobbled.  I swerved.  I stopped and started a million times.  I got frustrated.  I hated the toe clips.  I would get the hang of it and then get scared and stop.  But once I was finally comfortable back on this death trap, I ventured around the building.  That day I ended up riding pi miles - all in circles around that parking lot.

#fresh

The next time I got on my bike, and rode around the parking lot, I fell.  Like WTF?!  I fell into a dirty patch of snow/ice because WINTER IS A ROTTEN HEFFA and also because toe clips, in my opinion, are bigger death traps than the bike itself.  It's difficult, as a beginner, to snatch your foot off a pedal to steady yourself on the ground when you're caged in and panicking and can't get out.  And then you fall.

And then the bruises.

I walked my bike back across the street, mad because I fell.  But I also knew that, like swimming, the absolutely only way I would learn how to ride this damn bike without falling was to keep doing it until it was second nature.  But these bruises, though.  They were very serious.

My coworker said "I thought your bruises were trying spell 'Google'" LOL!  That evil child.  Omar looked even worse, almost.

At least now he also had the Omar Little scar by which he would forever be remembered.  Also, my bike is a damn GANGSTA.

But even with my leg in danger of falling off, apparently, I didn't have the luxury of time to stop and heal and relax and regroup.  April was around the corner and both races (a Sprint and an Olympic distance - BECAUSE WHY NOT?!?!?!?) are in August.  So I took Omar in for repair, got him back, and got back out there.  This time I wanted to try an actual trail that was off road and allowed me to practice socializing with runners, walkers, other bikers, etc. but did not force me to navigate traffic too much.

I ended up on the Farmington Canal Heritage Trail and wanted to get 12 miles in.  Remember.  The most I had ever ridden, since crushing that rose bush in the DR, was pi miles in a school parking lot.  I was going to try 12 and see what happened.  Welp.  5.5 miles in I fell.  And my chain broke.  And my gears decided not to work - because, you know, I had fallen and likely dislodged them somehow.

WHAT IN ALL HOLY HELL?!?!?  I was so discouraged but 1) I had spent WAY too much money on Omar and 2) I had spent WAY too much money registering for these races and 3) the evil child coworker was doing the Sprint with me and 4) I mean I don't give up so it wasn't even really an option I seriously considered.  I was just really mad and really frustrated that things weren't going as smoothly as they had in the pool, mostly because I'm not, in the pool, balancing on two skinny behind wheels, trying to navigate turns and ice patches on cold roads because CT won't quit winter.

But today.  Today I said "Winter, I quit you."  I said I would ride 12 miles.  I did.  And I didn't fall.  I froze, because it was like mid thirties degrees.  I got wet, because it was kind of trying to rain.  I got dirty because I don't have fenders and there were puddles I couldn't avoid and gravel somehow ended up on my seat (how???????????).  But I rode those 12 gawtdamn miles.

Why?  Because I rock.

So I type this, now, sitting on my couch trying to warm up, looking at my dog, Caeser, telling him in my mind "Please, shut up.  Mommy is trying to blog," as he whines for both treats and my attention.

I will do my best to be better about keeping this current, with various accomplishments and progress, but I can't make promises.  What I CAN say, though, is GET ALL THE WAY INTO THESE DAMN SNEAKERS!!!!

 - E