The airwaves have been rife with the notion that Triathlon chooses us – that we resonate so completely with the sport that it feels like a calling, a destiny. Well I’m here today to tell that I’m like the last kid standing in the ‘unchosen’ line in P.E. class. The one nobody wants on her team but who plays anyhow for whatever reason.
To give credit where credit is due I first read this ‘chosen’ notion on Stronger’s blog where she was referring to what Kahuna said. When I couldn’t remember where I first read that notion I did a search and found a similar post by Daniel Clout on Beginnertriathlete.
I’m glad other people feel chosen. They probably feel competent, too. Not me. I’m a great example of how you really can cram a square peg into a round hole. Of course if the diameter of the hole is bigger than the diagonal distance across the square it’s no contest but I’m not very big. And I’m not very strong. And I’m not much of an athlete. I’m tenacious and I persevere but it is definitely a brute force effort and I don’t love it. I love me a little bit for doing it but I don’t love the sport.
This weekend was a painful reminder of why that is. Saturday I had 22 million things to do so instead of going out riding with my friends I just went for a short ride locally. I went to the road with the hill that tried so hard to kick my a$$ a few weeks ago. It kind of kicked my patoot again but having just climbed the Berkeley hills I knew I could do it so I did. When I got to the top of the hills I could only marvel at my prior accomplishments. What happened to the Queen of the hills? She abandoned me and left me yearning for a leg transplant.
My run yesterday was also a total bust. Of course my Garmin has started lying through it’s non-existent teeth about my pace and that just really gets me down but still – I felt heavy and slow. I did take the opportunity to run up a big old nasty hill because Wildflower is pretty much all about tackling hills but my pace overall stunk. It’s the first time I’ve run 11+ minute miles in a long time. No joy there.
I will not be denied, though. I will not lose confidence. I will love myself no less. I’m eternally grateful to every single couch potato in the world because next to you I look like an athletic Goddess but I’m no goddess. I’m not even very good. All I can do is set my goals, train and try to make them and when it doesn’t work out just move on to the next thing. I’m really glad I do it, too because I’m in the best shape of my life and because I meet great people both in real life and on the internet and I will soon meet a bunch of internet peeps face to face – good times!
Triathlon, you may be a reluctant date but I’m not letting you go just yet. I will keep coaxing you and whispering sweet nothings into your 3 ears, ignoring your scorn of me because I’m sure that if I do this long enough we’ll find mutual love. Please stop being so recalcitrant and tell me you have feelings for me, too.