This is my first entry in my "Road to an Iron(wo)man " journal. The 140.6 mile race is 230 days away, as is my 27th birthday. What will I do on my 28th birthday to top this one? I have been training for two months. July 4th was the first official day of my training program, as well as the first day that I jumped into the 50m pool at masters swim practice and realized that I was literally and figuratively in over my head. Half way through the hour long practice, Johnny, the eccentric English coach, pulled me aside to give me a few tips, which started with, "Do you have some aversion to putting your face in the water?" I thought I WAS putting my face in the water, but point taken; swimming would not be my strong leg.
I had also never been a cyclist until this July. Granted, a friend had donated a ten year old Trek to me last April, which I promptly flew off trying to hop a curb, and earned some serious battle wounds to prove it. But that has been my only exposure to cycling. Even my time spent on a bike as a kid was limited. I remember my dad building a "hydroplane" out of a 2x4 which we attached with a rope to the back of my pink bike. I would ride through puddles and gutters and the hydroplane with lego-man driver would follow behind. But that about covers all my biking experiences from childhood to the present. Extensive, I know.
So . . . cycling . . . I did some research with other cyclists on the likelihood of falling while clipped in. What I have learned is this: there are two types of cyclists. Those that HAVE fallen and those that WILL fall. I am still part of the "will fall" group. And although I am feeling much more comfortable with the whole set up and being physically attached to my bike, which under some circumstances makes me feel like a human bullet, I know it will happen. Someday I will fall and it won't even make for a good story because it will happen at a stop light when I am not even moving. I will simply loose my balance and topple over into one big pile of bike and spandex. Cool.
Two months into training and I can't even count how many times my ego has been bruised. Yet I remain eager to keep trying. Because how else do you learn but by trying, doing it wrong, feeling stupid, trying again, doing it wrong, feeling LESS stupid, etc.? Generally, I like to do what I'm good at, and once I find something that I excel at I stick with it. It's fun and comfortable and a good ego boost. But now I find myself here, totally vulnerable, totally humbled, back to being a student with so much to learn that I can't even fathom all that I have YET to learn. But how satisfying and rewarding to conquer something new -- to clip in on the first try, to cruise at 23 miles an hour, to breathe on the left side without sinking, to beat one of the boys during our 16 x 200m track workout, to run on the treadmill and know that I am not there out of obligation to my gym membership, but rather, because I have a greater purpose. I am training to become an Ironman.
I believe it is not only the phenomenal effort on that day that makes one an Ironman, but instead, the small battles that we fight and win everyday that we train. As in anything, there is a bit of tearing down that must take place before the building up occurs -- in many capacities -- physical, mental, emotional. But undoubtedly, the rebuilding always follows. As long as we continue to push and challenge ourselves, this cycle remains endless and our capabilities limitless.
I think triathletes must walk around with a feeling that they have discovered the ultimate training secret, a secret that propels their superhuman bodies through wind and weather and over many miles. They HAVE discovered the ultimate training secret -- and that secret is that those forces lie within all of us.
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