My First Triathlon by Carissa Leone @carissasfirsttri - Tumblr Blog

Day 60 - A Dream of Agony & Bliss

I’m alive! Nearly two weeks have passed since I completed the San Diego Triathlon Classic, but I needed some time to get my thoughts organized. And maybe I procrastinated writing this last post because a large part of me is sad the chapter is closing.

My inspiration for the race has evolved. A little over two months ago, I saw a triathlon ad in my husband’s health magazine. Within a week I went from, “Huh, could I do something like that?” to “I’ve just paid the entry fee! OMG, I’m really doing this!” to “I’m doing this for my mom. I’m doing this for Sharon.”

The Morning of

My husband, Leo, and I were awakened at 3:45am. (Never book a wake-up call with the Sheraton San Diego - they’ll mess it up by thirty minutes and rob you of precious slumber.) My heart started racing immediately and my breathing quickened. I wanted to skip the whole day. I was filled with a load of anticipatory thoughts:

Will someone swim over my head and drown me?

Should I apply sunscreen?

Will the sunscreen mix with sweat, drip and burn my eyes?

How will it feel living the rest of my life as a person permanently blinded by sunscreen?

Did I train enough? I didn’t train enough.

Will I get the nervous pees? (Of course you will, you always do.)

I put aside my anxiety and reserved an Uber SUV. A guy named Charles (who reminded me of that Greatest American Hero actor, but chubbier) showed up. We loaded my bike and race bag, and made it to the event park in mere minutes. At 5:15am, the transition area was already buzzing with athletes.

(OPIX Photography)

Leo couldn’t go into the corral with me, though my body literally shook with nerves. I found a spot in my assigned row and tried to act as cool as possible. I racked my bike up in the air and carved out a spot for my belongings. I grouped my items for each leg (like I had read online to do) and pictured myself transitioning smoothly. I felt emotional, nearly in tears for so many reasons. I thanked the universe for granting me the monetary resources, the sunny locale and a body healthy enough for this opportunity. I ran over to Leo for another hug and a pre-race shot.

I got marked up in Sharpie by a volunteer. On various parts of your body, they write your age, race # and wave group. (In case you collapse and/or die on the course?) I talked to one dude near me, asking if he’d ever raced before. “Nope!” Good, we were both tri virgins.

We were required to exit the transition section by 6am, so I nervously triple-checked my station, visited the porta potty about 5 more times and ate an energy gel in preparation for the swim. I followed the herd out to the shore. It was still dark, but we could go into the water and warm up - I certainly took advantage.

My decision to go sans wetsuit was a fine one - the water was in the low to mid 70’s. I flipped about like a carefree seal pup, getting my body familiar with the stretch of salt water. My nerves started to calm a bit.

The Swim - Confidence Realized

I was part of the 9th wave, in a group for women weighing over 160 lbs called, “The Athenas.” Much better than the males over 200 lbs category (mockingly?) called, “The Clydesdales.” I waited on the shore with Leo, and my father arrived right before I was called to the starting line.

My group swam into the middle of the bay and treaded water. We had 3 minutes until the horn blast and my heart suddenly jumped up into my throat. You got this, Carissa. You got this. Mom, are you with me? 60 seconds. 30 seconds. Horn! Go!

(OPIX Photography)

I found a comfortable spot in the middle of the pack. I paced myself, heeding online advice to avoid pushing too hard in the first few minutes. I wanted to steer clear from the super intense people upfront. The water was murky and that spooked me at first. But I got over this quickly and focused on the first red buoy in the distance, reminding myself to turn left there, while still trying my best to avoid swift kicks to the face.

I felt strong - my natural abilities and training had paid off. Not only the training for the last 60 days, but all those hours in the pool as a swim team kid. I believe sense memory kicked in and instincts took over.

I rounded that first buoy and the convergence of pushy, slapping bodies reminded me of salmon on a fish ladder. I pushed ahead to the next buoy and then the next turn. I felt tired and overwhelmed only twice, and did a few breast strokes to catch my breath. I went hard to the final buoy, now noticing lots of other colored caps from waves ahead and behind me.

There was a pile-up at the exit stairs. I patiently waded into shore and once on land, I was energized. I found myself running to the transition area. Tears started welling up again. Oh my God, I thought. I’m doing this! I’m actually doing this!

I saw my father and then Leo. Leo later said they weren’t expecting me so soon and he had fumbled to get the camera ready. I had finished my first leg - the ½ mile swim - in what I would later find out was 17 minute, a personal best.

I arrived to transition and noticed I was one of the first to get in from my wave. I hurriedly took off my swim top, adorned my socks and For Sharon race shirt, helmet & shades, then shoes and fanny pack (you know you want one.) I downed another energy gel and jogged my bike to the mounting line.

The Bike Leg - Ego vs. Heart

As I pedaled away from the park, I felt nervous but strong. Many people passed me in sleek, alien-like helmets and fancy, thousand dollar bikes, but I tried to ignore them. I was comfortable on my borrowed Schwinn. Though it sported mountain bike tires - not the slickest for road racing I’d come to find out - I kept telling myself: “Ride your own race. This is for you, for the experience, for Mom, not against anyone else.”

At orientation, we were warned of The Hill. The race director said it would be “fun.” What a dirty little lie he had told! The Hill was absolute torture and the torture came at about 5 miles in.

The Hill was not a “hill.” Let’s call it a junior Mt. Rainier. I had to get off the bike and push at one point, and I felt like such a chump. I’m not an athlete. I don’t belong here. But then other racers started dismounting too. We all slogged upward like a bicycle chain gang.

More bikers passed us up, as if they were pedaling through sand. One of these warriors - a buff, masculine woman - cycled by and yelled for us pushers to, “Just put it on gear 1 and get going!” I wanted to thank her for the pep talk and give her the finger simultaneously.

I finally made it to the top, swigged down some more energy drink, and jumped back in the saddle. More bikers sped by, including an actual child. At that moment, I felt like his nerdy classmate in gym class. He seemed so smug and agile, with his petite frame and 0% body fat. Hit puberty and then call me, champ! Then a man - let’s call him a “young 70” - passed me too. Good times.

This journey had been about heart all along; about surrendering my ego, about love for self and my mother. Don’t quit, Carissa.You are so lucky. I immediately wished for those blinders they put on race horses.

More hills appeared in our climb to Cabrillo National Monument, but nothing as unmanageable as the hell hill. I got bursts of energy and took advantage of the downhill speeds and rests. The terrain then changed all at once and my eyes widened to a first glimpse of the morning’s spectacular coastal views. Ocean. Cliffs. Sunshine glimmering through beautiful, billowy clouds. Are you here Mom? Can you see this? Wow, thank you.

(View from Cabrillo National Monument; photo credit to Rob Wiss)

The race pack was thinning out by now. My mind chattered on: I’m not last, am I? and my right calf started to cramp up. Another man passed me and shouted, “PanCan! Right on!” (He had read the back of my For Sharon shirt, advertising the pancreatic cancer group I’d raised money for upon racing.) Thanks for the sign, universe! I stopped for a rest and another energy gel, but kept pushing my bike forward as I slurped. I was ready for the final descent, but had no real clue how far I’d come or had yet to go.

Some people emerged out of their houses and cheered us on. We were cruising down blocked off neighborhood streets. It felt eery and cool to be on the roads without traffic. I audibly thanked each supportive bystander and volunteer, who yelled things like, “Good job! You’re nearly there!” Really? How close am I? Please tell me right this second!

Having no idea where I stood on the course, made me feel both giddy and tired. The path suddenly weaved back to parts I recognized from the starting line. This fact both inspired and deflated me; I just wanted to be off the bike at this point, but I still had miles to go.

Finally, I reached the transition dock and ran to my row. There were two of my wave buddies! Already posing. With their finish line medals. What I thought: Are you bloody kidding me? I beat you guys here from the swim leg like an hour ago! What I said: “Wow! Good for you!” The words were dripping with embarrassment and jealousy. One of these phenoms - a man in his late 50’s - helped me re-rack my bike as I struggled. Wow, an elite athlete and a gentleman…I wanted to punch him. But there was no time! It had taken me 1.5 hours to ride those 14 miles and now I needed to focus on the run!

The Run - Jogging on an Empty Tank

I started this leg off with a respectable jog. I was hopeful and positive, yet I felt zero reserved energy in my body tank. I grabbed yet another gel and a cup of sports drink from some volunteers. Just run, Carissa! And I did. For about 20 feet.

I could muster nothing but short spurts of jogging, followed by meager walking. I was disappointed. Can I tap out? Like Hulk Hogan used to do?

Just then I spotted my father. “Keep going, babe! You’re nearly there.” He was sweet for lying. Then I saw Leo. He could tell I was struggling and he both grimaced and laughed in solidarity.

“Medic!”

Shortly after, a sweet woman ran by and sang, “You got this girl.” I hugged her with my mind. This pattern of wanting to do more, but settling for what I had to offer, continued for the entire 3 miles.

I neared the final stretch and saw Leo again. As I passed, he cheered. I heard him yell in teary excitement to a female stranger, “She did it! She finished!” His pride made me proud.

I ran across the finish line and they announced my name over the booming microphone. No world records smashed, but I was upright! I hadn’t drowned, crashed into a tree or fallen into a ditch! I was too tired to cry, but I grinned the widest grin. After 2.5 hours, I was officially and forever a triathlete. The medal solidified my feat.

Some Perspective

My father asked me right after if I would run another race. I likened this to asking a woman if she wants any more children right after she gives birth. “Ask me later,” I said. Well, it’s officially later…and I will race again!

The journey of the last two months has been more enjoyable and life-altering than I could have ever imagined. I’ve cultivated immense physical and mental strength. I’ve discovered newfound appreciation for my health. This race amplified the love I’ve allowed myself to feel from others. I’m tackling my perfectionistic tendencies in new ways, and I’ve raised $1384 for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network thanks to the generosity of family, friends and even a stranger. I continue to grieve for the mother I miss every day, but I’m moving into a new relationship with this grief.

Since her sudden passing, I’ve struggled with the idea that my mom is actually moving through life alongside me. For a long time, I was stuck in an agonizing, paralyzing phase, clinging to my grief in order to remain close to her. I desperately wanted my mom as she used to be: alive. I was living in the past, longing for my old connection and missing out on the present with the beautiful humans still physically surrounding me. Depression is a crippling Siren.

I’m trying my best to feel my momma still with me. Sometimes I know with every fiber this is true. At other times, it’s difficult to fully give in to the belief that an afterlife exists. Doubt and human reasoning inevitably creep in. And so does the resentment over her loss. Logic aside, I need to believe my mom’s energy is tied to mine. My existence is too lonely without her tether, even if this thought presents as mere fantasy. Life is magical and scary and deserves our full presence, despite the fears. Joy and agony are inevitable, and moments too fleeting.

Grief gives you both uplifting and debilitating insight. The key is to maintain balance and perspective; to appreciate the gifts rather than shying away for fear of losing someone or something at some point. After my mom died, I wanted the world to stop. I needed to announce in a great bellow that nothing else mattered. All the petty worries and routines seemed meaningless. Life feels squandered on the living! But if we think too much about either the preciousness of happiness or the sorrow of tragedy, we’ll never leave the house. I know this, because I’ve hidden in that limbo.

I hope choices won’t feel as daunting now. I want to reach down to the strength, grit and glory I’ve internalized after this race and call up reminders: “You have everything you need inside. Don’t worry so much!” Wisdom and confidence from new experiences are invaluable. Failure is only a possibility, not an inevitability.

Since the race, I’ve gone swimming. And I’ve noticed that I’m now gliding with a fun freedom I don’t recall ever experiencing as an adult. No more scrutinizing my stroke techniques or worrying about how I look in a swimsuit. There’s no time for such wasted energy! I’m simply enjoying the water against my skin and feeling blessed. Imagine that: contentment. And all it took was 35 years and 17.5 miles for Sharon.

Momma and me, circa 1980.

#triathlon motherlessdaughter inspiration

Days 57 & 58 - Mechanics & Jitters

So yesterday I got my bike tuned up and had a minor anxiety attack in a dressing room. These two activities were only related in proximity.

I requested a sample wetsuit from the pro shop guy and proceeded to the changing room. Whoa, Nelly! Wetsuits are difficult to pull on. Like, it was a sweaty, sore workout, folks. And the full body one made me feel totally claustrophobic. Glad to find out before the day of! Now what to do for plan B…

After much online research, and the love of simple solutions, I decided on jammers (men’s long and tight swim shorts, like Olympians wear) and a sports bra for the swim. I didn’t feel like running about town, looking for a sleeveless wetsuit that only might have worked. So I purchased the jammers at Big 5 today and I feel confident about this solution. I’ll keep the shorts and bra on for the entire race (fingers crossed the shorts dry out with bunny quickness) and throw my beloved Momma tribute t-shirt on top for the bike and run. Phew, hope this substitute works out beautifully!

I was feeling nervous energy coursing throughout my mind and body, so I turned to the olympic size pool for reprieve and a last chance workout. I swam a mile! Wow, it was hard and fantastic. Hopefully I’ll feel the exact same way after my triathlon on Saturday. (Y’all just crossed your fingers & knocked on wood, right?)

#triathlon

Day 56 - Clarity & A Yoga Cleanse

My mind is racing this week and I’m feeling anxiety-ridden. I am nervous about the race, and my Dad just flew down from Washington to visit with us and my Grandfather who’s still in the hospital.

The relationship with my biological father has been negatively affected in different points of my life. I won’t go into detail here, but I hadn’t seen him in three years. I’m glad he’s here.

Expectations of other people is a toughy. When they don’t meet those expectations, it’s easy to take personally. I’m learning to see my father through adult eyes, and working to let go of my inner-child’s hurt feelings. He is an individual, made up of complexities, pressures and circumstances, just like me. I’m trying to ease up and look through a more broad scope when examining him and our relationship. Oof! Lots of analysis.

To quiet my mind and refocus I practiced some much-needed yoga tonight. My body feels energized and I interrupted the reeling autopilot I often find my brain set to. I give this 20 minute YouTube video a B. It definitely served its purpose:

#triathlon

Day 53 - More Work Now, Less Work Later

I biked halfway up the killer hills today. I stopped because it was incredibly hot and I was alone, and also so as not to totally wipe out at the beginning of my ride. As I panted up, I chanted aloud: "More work now, less work later. You can do this."

I did an abbreviated 6 miler today, and as I was pushing along near the end, I saw a homeless man pushing a cart of belongings. I thought, If this is my lot, I'm really doing OK. This man is your gift of perspective. Don't squander it.

Day 52 - A Tribute

After much hemming and hawing, and numerous saved designs online, I decided to check out a local t shirt designer in one of the (many) local strip malls. I pulled the trigger on a shirt, font and design after spending 15 minutes with a very awkward clerk. And 20 minutes later...I have a shirt I adore! Complete with a tribute to my Momma and a call for action against Pancreatic Cancer:

I know Sharon would love it too.

#triathlon

Day 51 - Future Choices Made Now

My grandfather, Pa, has been in the hospital three times since we moved here, and we moved here less than 3 months ago. Not good. I've been increasingly aware of my loved ones' mortality since my Mother's passing - but my grandfather's recent battles are now a harsh reminder of my own.

My sweet Pa is 81, but he's had a lot of health struggles along the way. He smoked heavily for many years. He had a stroke in his early 50's. And his heart and lungs are now very sick. I love him dearly, but I don't want to grow old in his physical image. I don't want to be kept alive by 30 pills a day. Quality trumps Quantity every day in my book, and with a commitment to wellness, I hope to have both in my future.

I want to be well into my golden years and that means making healthy choices in my current years. My future body is my current body. I'm tired of my yo-yo weight and food battles. It's time to get more committed.

In New York, we were moving all the time. Walking to and from the subway, up and down stairs, dodging pedestrians, rushing to and from just to keep up in the flow of the city. It was easier to keep pounds off. In California, there is the car. Ugh. I can't wait to move to a more walkable neighborhood. We walk and bike currently, but we live in the suburbs. It takes effort to find our desirable hangouts. I'm getting off point!

In our new life, I need to make an effort to stay very active. I need to integrate my old NY habits - mucho walking, making daily green smoothies, a great vegetarian diet - into our current CA situation.

I had a wake up call a few years ago during a physical. A doctor told me I had high cholesterol (220) and that he wanted to put me on medication. Medication at 31 year's old? I cried to Leo on the phone. I was scared. I was embarrassed. Things needed to change and drugs were not part of my wellness plan.

We cut out most meat from our diet (italian salami and oily Chinese foods were the biggest culprits) and we upped our workouts in the park. I lost 15 pounds and had my levels checked 1 year later. My bad cholesterol numbers went down and my good numbers went up. Good behavior never felt so great.

I've gained some of this weight back since moving here. I haven't weighed myself since training - I know I've gained muscle and lost inches, but my grandfather's old-timey scale won't tell me those exact numbers. I don't want to feel defeated, so I'm not going to bother weighing myself before the race.

If I really look at my health choices, they're not all great. As I've mentioned on here before, Leo and I need to return to cleaner eating post-move. More veggies, less sugar and less Mexican food. Getting into a more definite routine and stable place will surely help. In any case, we need to work harder, because I think I'll make a really hot 81 year old.

#triathlon

Day 50 - Big Hills, Bigger Groans

Today Leo and I attacked some big, mother-honking hills. The word of the day was, "F*ck!" with a capital "F*ck!"

I made it up all but one of these steep hills without stopping, even though it felt like I was barely moving at all on some of them. It feels so good to keep pushing when nothing sounds better than stopping. And grunting really does help - I think it distracts the mind from convincing the body to quit.

It seems that this physical training has increased my mental strength too. I hope so, because that little doubtful voice is the element I'm extra concerned about on this race. Maybe if I grunt extra loud, I won't be able to hear myself begging for mercy.

#triathlon

Day 49 - Check Li$$$ts

Holy ballz, sporting goods are expensive! Thank gawd for Amazon.

Today I ordered:

water bottles with bike holders

a bike bell

Huma Chia energy gels

I have my pair of the world’s best goggles (Speedo Boomerang, mentioned in another post I think. They’re so good, they’re worth another brag.) I’d love to buy a new pair of kicks, but I don’t want to purchase them right now sans job. Maybe if I can score a sale pair at Big 5 over Labor Day weekend.

I need to go try on wetsuits this week, as I’m “inbetween sizes” according to the sales woman on the phone at the pro shop. This actually works out perfectly, as the bike I’m borrowing needs a tune up and can get one at this same race-sponsored shop.

I’m still deciding on what to wear underneath this suit. There seems to be contradicting opinions online about this. My ideal is a sports bra and bike shorts, to which I can add my t shirt and socks and shoes for the bike and run legs. Will the stuff stay dry or dry out quickly enough on the bike? Or will I have a soggy, gross feeling bottom for the second and third legs? More research needed, because that scenario sounds disgusting!!!

I plan to wear a fanny pack on the bike and run (hawt) and within it I will store the gels, chapstick and probably a sunscreen stick. I have a white baseball cap and I want to order a t shirt or tank top with a special message. Gah! So much to do and think about. Oh, adulthood. Peter Pan syndrome? Table for one, please.

#triathlon

Day 48 - Bike, Bike, Bike to My Lou (Leo)

My baby is back! After a few days away working, my husband Leo is back in my arms and ready for a training session. We took the bikes out on some errands in town and then it was off to the marina and neighboring trail.

Ok, I'm not going to front: I'm still an awkward nerd when it comes to starting and stopping in the street. The cars make me nervous and this, mixed with my everyday lack of gracefulness, makes for some interesting dismounts and beginnings. Whatevs! Still having a blast and kicking some ass. (And by ass, I mean mine, which is getting hella firm, y'all!)

So despite some bruising and pedal burn in a few spots, we're increasing distances on the bike and getting more adventurous. We're looking to complete this 35 mile route to Coronado Island in the future, but not before race day.

My goal this week is to increase the back-to-back workouts and to swim in open water. I'm off to try on wetsuits at the cycle shop near the race site, so I hope to make it inside the Bay by week's end. So don't scare me, random floating weeds and/or fish!

#triathlon

Day 46 - Child Labor

I watched and swam with my 7 year-old cousin at our pool today, and he makes a great trainer/weight/student!

Christian's an avid swimmer, and when he grabs onto my feet and kicks, I can pull him and swim a great, weighted workout! And then there were intense noodle drills and races of course. Seriously, I think I would be thinner with a kid.

Teaching this sweet, little guy some tricks and drills for more efficient breathing and stroke definition was a blast. I relived my joy and talent in swimming through his joy and talent in swimming. And I got a great workout in.

Leo is still away on business, and Christian made an excellent substitute trainer. And through my cousin, I can see the joys of having children. And getting a break from them after only a few hours. Loop hole!

#triathlon

Day 45 - The Burn

Today, I tackled “The Hill” on my bike. We’ve only explored three directions in our new neighborhood, and while Leo was away for work this weekend, I explored the fourth. My lungs have never burned more.

You see, after one hill, was another. And another and another. My aunt told me “a fantastic view of Mexico would be waiting” at the top of this street. Eh…not so much. But the pride and strength I felt at the top were pretty gorgeous.

#triathlon

Day 43 - Childlike Play

When did physical activity starting feeling like work instead of fun? As adults, we consistently refer to physical activity as “working out” instead of simply playing. Maybe that’s why so many people dread the active lifestyle. “Work” implies “lack of fun.”

When I was in 1st grade, I was the fastest girl runner in my class. Me and this boy Brandon would always win in foot races. And I loved playing Tag. And I f*cking ruled at Duck, Duck Goose. Then I switched schools starting in 2nd grade and I became pretty shy on the playground. I was confident in the classroom, but I started choosing tire swing and jump rope games with just the girls to make new friends. Which I was socially awkward at!

As you grow older, the world of physical activity is steered towards competition and winning and being the best. Looking back at my bad ass confidence in Duck, Duck Goose, I don’t think it was all about winning. I just loved running fast, and the winning part was a bonus prize I didn’t really care about.

I’m not racing in this triathlon to beat anyone. I don’t have a time set out for myself, and I have no idea how long it will take to finish. I’m just having a blast biking and swimming. (Running still is an activity I can’t help but suffer through entirely. Maybe I need to start up an adult league of Tag.)

I’m actively playing with my husband on these bike rides, racing up hills and yelling things repeatedly back to him when he inevitably doesn’t catch what I’m saying the first time. I feel my muscles and lungs working hard, but that’s a great secondary result. In certain moments, I am a spirited, unburdened, confident kid again. What a blast!

#triathlon

Day 42 - Ever-changing Focus & Reflection

My mind is all over the place this week, and therefore so is this post:

What will I do after the race?

For all of my life, I’ve struggled with balance. I attack goals and tasks with fervor, go boobs to the wall and usually succeed, and then I generally lose interest. I can’t seem to keep casual focus on lots of things, choosing intensity for one thing instead. (Guess I would not be a great polygamist!) So my approach, vested interest and training program has been no different. And I’m worried about post-race ADD.

In training, my mood is better (I’ve struggled with depression on and off since my teens), my self-image is better, and my focus on a major goal has been great for my scattered mind and ungroundeness in a new city. My lack of a job has allowed me to train pretty heavily and I am grateful. But how will I integrate my familiar friend Fitness when life gets back to normal? Maybe I need to redefine normal.

I'm scared of my body changing, even though I want it to change.

F*ck! I’ve been in this place before! Many times! Since puberty! I am exhausted. In comparison to now, I’ve been more fit and less fit. I’ve been thinner and I’ve been heavier. I’ve been more toned and less toned. I love the feeling of ridding my mass of excess, and yet doing so feels scary. After so many years of emotional eating (learned from family members on both sides who struggled with this) I can embarrassingly admit the extra layers of fat did serve a purpose: protection.

Even at this time of ultimate health and training, I have not been fully committed on the food front. I struggle to make smart choices each day. This race is a time of pride and achievement, but you know what else it’s bringing on? Doubt and anxiety. So what is my go-to remedy for those things? Comfort foods like tortilla chips, chocolate and pizza. I’m not bingeing on these items (I’ve struggled with that practice in that past) but I have been eating them. So this dirty eating brings on guilt and worry about not doing my best, and that begets…more eating! It’s a disgusting cycle.

Like any other addict, I know this struggle with food will be a lifelong climb, a series of choices and inner pressure, shame and frustration. Whenever I’ve been thinner, I think that I’ve “figured it out” and “conquered the addiction” but the temptation of food seems to sneak in whenever I’m feeling uneasy.

Different can be scary even when different means better.

"With each passing year, the image of who a woman is meant to be becomes clearer." - I once wrote a version of this in a birthday card to my dear friend. I fully believe it, and yet the path to a realized, authentic identity is still scary sometimes.

Maybe because I don’t think I can maintain a put together, adult persona forever? Because I fear I’ll inevitably fail? Sometimes I feel like I’m continually rediscovering lessons I thought I learned years ago. Am I stuck in an existential cul de sac?

So as I embark on this race, this major life achievement, I’m facing traits within my self that I am ashamed of. But such characteristics - fear, bad habits, self doubt - are human, and so maybe I need to just sit with that fact. I am an imperfect human and I don’t need to hide this “secret” behind food and layers of fat. Everyone already knows it because everyone is a ridiculous, imperfect human too. I just need to keep doing my best, and maybe today will be the day that my best sticks around longer than yesterday. And repeat.

#triathlon

Days 29 - 41 Hard-Earned Bliss

Apologies for my tardiness on these posts, gang. I’ve been working out, I swear! I’ve started and saved drafts on here, I promise! It’s the whole factoring in real life with a training schedule thing that’s had me absent on here.

Lots of lessons and moments from the last week - from the day where I felt nauseated, but still worked out and then felt better - are swishing ‘round in my brain. The main one? How all of my hard work is paying off in noticeable ways.

I swam for 45 minutes the other day in a beautiful olympic size pool near our house I wasn’t sure what to expect of my endurance. All swim workouts of late have been in our small pool out back, so I haven’t really had a chance to literally stretch out my strokes. Well surprise, surprise, surprise: I felt fantastic! My cardio endurance has really increased, and had I remembered my earplugs, I would’ve gone longer than 45 minutes. I was high on life and endorphins.

The reassurance that my many little workouts have paid off in a big way is a lesson I can continue to translate into other situations in my life. As I’ve mentioned before on here, I am a perfectionist. I become easily frustrated when I don’t master tasks immediately. It’s a little ridiculous, really. My expectations are very high, and sometimes I quit on things if I don’t immediately succeed. A bit juvenile I know, but it’s a quality/belief/trait I can’t quite shake, even in adulthood. Even after going through some devastating, grounding events.

This triathlon is helping me see the beauty of sticking with worlds - the athlete’s domain in this case - I’m really unsure of myself within. I hope to carry these trial and errors, these falls and strides, these winded jogs and eventual sprints, into other unchartered goals and territory.

I’m still scared of this daunting race. I’m still unsure of our new path in a new city. But I’m starting to believe in my power a little more each day. I’m not perfect, but I am trying for greatness all the same. And there’s no shame in that!

#@triathlon

Day 28 - Yoga? I Hardly Know Her!

Psst, the word of the day is: sweat.

Class involved a lot of flow and hard poses. And I’m a lady who sweats, so bring on the big towel! I actually like sweating during a workout (as opposed to in the depths of a subway tunnel on my way to work). Sweating lets you know your body is working hard. It’s like a fantastic receipt.

I already feel the workout in my shoulders and quads just a few hours later. Instructor Mark, your many plank and crescent poses really took our bodies to town today! Maybe I could try a Bikram class sometime soon.

Namaste, e’erbody!

#triathlon

Day 26 - What Makes an Athlete?

What’s kept me from entering a big triathlon like this in the past? Why don’t I play group sports? Why do I lose weight and then gain it back? For one, I’ve never really seen myself as an athlete. Or a thin person, even when I was one.

I’ve assumed limitations and doubts: I’m not coordinated enough. I’m not fit enough. I’ll look silly. I’m an artist, not a jock. Ok, yes, the media touts an ideal, fit look for women in general. I can choose to continue an internalization of such standards, and therefore bow out of new fitness adventures. Or, I can enjoy the feeling and look of my muscle-y physique and continue to train like a boss.

I played softball. I swam competitively from age 8-16. And then I quit. I couldn’t stand the increasingly intense practices and internal team ranking system and ambition, as they robbed me of my initial joy and freedom found in my early swimmer days. Part of this is my personality. I don’t find joy in beating others, in “the kill.” And part of this was self consciousness over my body. I had/have wide shoulders. I thought I was chubby. Looking back, I had a woman’s figure, not a girl’s. And when comparing myself to more petite girls my age, I felt huge. Ugh!

Though I feel that my journey against weight gain and a quest for consistent fitness may last forever, at least this race has helped me discover new loves (biking!), old loves (swimming!) and a new nemesis (running!) And has reminded me to never limit myself because of old beliefs about “appropriate” bodies and me not having one. Life is hard enough without hiding underneath a perfectly able and talented form of muscle, blood, joints, and hippy, shoulder-y goodness like mine. On your mark!

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Day 25 - Run Away with Me

Running! Still sucks ballz! So I enlisted my husband-trainer Leo to join me today. The heat nearly floored us.

We started running around our go-to football field/track. Artificial turf is gross! How do athletes survive on this stuff in the sun? Heat and fumes emanated from the center and we realized that an intense, mid-afternoon workout was not going to be possible in the day’s hot, cloudless sun. 15 minutes would have to do! Add on a few shady-area push-ups and call it a day.

I hope to gain some energy and inspiration from the other racers if my body feels like it can’t move another step. There must be some term for this sporty group mind. Collective endurance? Teamism? Racer juice? (Ok, racer juice sounds completely disgusting.) Whatever it is, I hope I catch the super duper tri spirit come race day. Especially in the running leg.

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My First Triathlon by Carissa Leone