I'll try anything. I'll try a triathlon!

Last Friday night I decided I would begin training for my first triathlon. I’m really excited. I feel like I should be really nervous, but I’m really not.  Earlier at the gym, I told someone I was nervous – in fact, I said it twice. But about 20 minutes later, I realized that nerves turn into adrenaline and energy. I’m actually extremely happy about my decision.

First, some background - I always wanted to compete in a triathlon. Here’s why: When I was in my late teens, working at the YMCA behind the front desk with a gaggle of geese and geeks who made up my social circle, I met several members who trained for triathlons. Members trained for marathons and other competitive events all the time. They would be in line for the pool at the crack of dawn and usually finishing one last rep in the weight room as we were turning off the lights. They were dedicated. They looked absolutely gross. They sweat, and they smelled foul. But they won. They beat personal bests day after day, running farther, running faster, swimming longer. It was awesome to hear stories of their races in other states.  I was genuinely happy for them and for their successes.

But they are not my inspiration. My inspiration is one guy we’ll call Dude. I don’t remember his name – I can’t even say I ever knew his name – but Dude was actually really cool. He spoke to the front desk staff like we were his friends. He spent just as much time at the gym as we did, but he did it for free. I mean I love the YMCA, but I don’t want to hang out there.

Dude announced to all of us that he was training for a triathlon. We all encouraged him. Okay, not really. He was just another member trying to make conversation about his fitness goals, you know those people who put it out into the universe for some sense of accountability. (Yes, I see feel the irony draping around me like a Snuggie.)

Anyway, one day after his workout, he walked up to the front desk at the same time that Domino’s pizza showed up at the front door. Apparently, he was STARVING. He set the pizza down on the counter and attacked it.  Naïve as I was, I thought: He will most certainly share with me. No, he did not. In face, he ate the whole pizza in a matter of minutes. I watched him in awe. I could not believe my new hero was standing right in front of me.

I think the conversation went something like this…

Me: “Dude, that was AWESOME. You killed that pizza.”

Dude: “Dude, I can eat anything I want now. I’m burning so many calories working out, I’m actually LOSING weight.”

Me: “Dude, no way?! Are you serious?!”

Dude: “Dude, yes. The other day I ate a whole box of cereal after a workout. Didn’t gain a pound.”

Wow. Yes. Now. Sign. Me. Up!

And that’s why I want to do a triathlon. Seriously. Fat, selfish reasoning in three separate sports tied up into one fun race.

Believe it or not, I enjoy working out and exercising – quite a bit. If you remember my last post, you’ll recall that I don’t enjoy being rushed and feeling tired, both side effects of spending time beating your body, but the physical activity I enjoy.  I am looking forward to the training and to setting some goals and reaching those goals.

I have nine weeks to prepare. I am little fearful of the bike, but some experienced cyclists have agreed to help me.  My doctor – the best in town – has agreed to help me in the weeks leading up to the race.  I have actually been cheating on my self-imposed January OFF month by running a few miles here and there. (I am doing a run this Saturday, so I figured I would warm up the legs.)

I’m not sure if I’ll post more about this race, or the training. I don’t want to be redundant. But if I get through the next two months successfully, you can find me at B&J’s Pizza on the afternoon of March 30^th.

Just don’t ask me to share my pie.