I am racing in my first triathlon on Saturday. It is a mere sprint triathlon, but it’s better than my fallback sport of watching chick flicks while eating chocolate and ice cream. You may have heard that Sir Smiley just raced in a half ironman. He is insane. I did my practice for all three sections (er…sports? Parts? Motifs? Whatever…the swimming, running, biking stuff) today.
While I was finishing off with an 11 mile bike ride there were many thoughts racing through my mind. Many were prayers to God asking him to give me the strength to survive this, brief thoughts wondering what insanity caused me to think this was a good idea…and so on.
I also pondered the fact that at my fastest point I went 23 mph and felt that at any moment I would crash, lapse into a coma, and die. Only then I realized Sir Smiley bragged that he went 41 mph at his race. I shall forbid him from telling me things like that ever again.
Getting the water bottle out of the holder on the bike is hard. I only managed to get it out, get a drink, and put it back one time where I didn’t look like a complete idiot.
FYI – While the thermometer may say that it is ten degrees cooler outside than it was the last time you ran…it’s still worse if the humidity went from 20% to 65%…
But the main thing I pondered was what I had seen at my hubby’s triathlon. The crux of it is what I consider to be athletes. At a half ironman…people are not out of shape. You swim over a mile, bike about 56 miles and finish with a half marathon. So these people are in very good shape. Many you see running across the finish line are what you might consider a typical athlete. They were thin, lean, chiseled and as close to zero body fat as you can get. (I know, the sight made me want to vomit too). But there were also quite a few running across the finish line that did not meet the stereotypes. They were thin, but not as much as the others. They also had huge folds of skin hanging off their arms and legs. These were people who at one point were severely out of shape, but had worked their butts off to get into shape. So much so that they were competing with the uber-buff athletes, and doing well. Let me tell you, they were so much more awe inspiring than any teeny-bopper athlete ever was. So for all those converted couch potatoes, I salute you. You are the true heroes.
Note: One more thought…I need to get a biker butt and quick…cause my rear end is sore!