So after three months of dragging myself to 6.30 am spin class, eating calories like Michael Phelps, and attempting to do more than doggie paddle in the pool, I did it. I finished my first triathlon. Correction—my first SPRINT triathlon. Most triathletes would mock my race… ”Do you really need to train at all for an hour affair?” I can imagine them saying. But I was determined to kick some butt, and excel at doing three sequential activities at once. The sprint distance is all follows: 400 meter swim, 11 mile bike, 3 mile run. I um…er….was a bit OCD on my training plan, completely doubling the distance to ensure my muscles could handle anything especially the dreaded swim
In fact, the real reason I did a Sprint and not an Olympic was my paranoia of the swim. Diving into cold water, flaying around as other swimmers kick and paddle on top of me, swallowing waves, and having strange sea life nip my feet just is not my thing. Plus I am not a strong swimmer. I have been told that my stroke resembles something a spastic frog would do. I needed to ensure my other ‘stronger’ activities would carry me through the race.
I would like to say that my friend Brooke, who encouraged me to sign up for the race, was my swimming motivation. She equally hated the water, but insisted that we power through.
On race day Brooke and I bravely got up at 5am, eat the breakfast of champions (peanut butter on whole grain bagels) and drove with Brooke’s supportive family over to the East Bay. After a few wrong turns and missed exits, we finally found our race destination. Brooke’s family cheered us on as joined the 800 other women about to embark on a morning sprint of adrenaline.
As they called our age group (30-35), Brooke and I held hands briefly in good luck wishes before we climbed over kelp and dove into the murky water.
Luckily for me the spastic frog maneuver did okay in the 400 meter distance. In fact, I think I scared enough people away that I had space in front of me at all times during the swim. I finished the swim somewhere in the middle and spent the rest of the race catching up and passing the other Sprinters with by bike and running shoes. After biking up SF’s hills the flat roads of Pleasanton were a cinch. And running—well, no one is going to beat me in that category! When it was all said and done I came out 5th in my age category and in the top 5% of the 800 person race overall. Not bad for a newbie. More sprint triathlons to come. And if I turn my spastic frog strokes into something that resemble swimming I may do an Olympic distance next year. Regardless, I am definitely adding peanut butter to my nutrition plan!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Masks We Wear
While In India I remember experiencing a unique state of being. This state of being didn't know the anxiety of overbooked schedules or the pressure of "making it" or any confusion about where I fit in. Things just were. And I just was. In the Ashram people were sappy and shiny and we joked around about our own elevated cheesiness. We all hoped to take our peaceful bliss back home to our respective countries and cities with us. Why were we so happy? I think because for once we were truly ourselves...all facets of ourselves at once.
Here in San Francisco the synergy of my combined facets has dissipated. Once again a different facet presents itself on different days to different people and different situations. I have revisited my closet of masks and carefully select a new mask for each day. For some reason I am too afraid to be all of myself at any one point in time.
To some I am the athlete, the over compulsive 'will try anything especially if it bruises me' athlete.
To others I represent the socialite that thinks in terms of hors d'oeuvres and guest lists; both must be equally attractive.
And what about the type A career driven women that even brings her blackberry to the toilet? Is this me? Or merely a San Francisco 'must have' mask---necessary as wine tasting to live in this city?
And then there is the romantic poetry writing side that I am not sure I have let anyone get close to since I have been back. Well, besides a few rhyming poems on Evite invitations anyway.....
Juggling different personalities is exhausting. After all going from introverted poet to high heel wearing party girl in the same evening is no easy task!
I wonder if a time will come when I can take all the masks off and just be myself, all parts of myself, at once and not be considered schizophrenic....
Hopefully the wine enthusiast personality will take a major role...
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