I said, “No really, I am going to swim, bike and run… in a race.” He mocked me, saying “No, Mommy ! No race!”
Earlier, Stella put her hands over her eyes when I said, “Mommy is going to swim in the morning.” Thanks, guys!
Well, at the ripe hour of 4:40 this morning, my alarm beeps, and I head to the gym. Me and my mom swimsuit. Yes, I have ordered a slick looking Speedo number with silicone swimcap, but the getup will not arrive until next week. And I say, best to getmoving while the motivation has slapped me – no time to waste here.
Board shorts and impractical swim top it is. Goggles. Check. (Sweet).
Three Olympic proportioned laps later, I am dying. I have sucked in water through my nose, my mouth and somehow, through my ears. I am huffing and puffing. Yesterday, I told my Ultra Marathon running friend that I really didn’t think the swim part was going to kill me in my hypothetical triathalon. I lied. Holy cows.
I managed to paddle, swim, lay, roll, bob and sputter through about forty minutes of water time. I consider that a massive victory. Hey, I got in the pool! Hey, in my mom suit! Hey, at an athletic club where everyone is about 100 pounds, runs the Kona Ironman for fun and in my imagination, comes to the pool with a bloody harpoon to stab folks like me.
But it was nice. And everyone was nice. The true athletes looked on a little sympathetically (aw, look at that special momsuit), but nice, nevertheless.
Now, I am wondering about the bike portion. (No need to speak about my running skills. I have none.) I feel most confident with the bike part. I “easily” handle an hour straight of Ironman Gerry [the coach now known as Monster] on Fridays, so that has to be at least fifteen miles a class. By “easily,” I acutally mean that I do not pass out. Theoretically, I think I could do at least ten more miles.
I don’t know about my bold and big decisions here. I should probably have my head checked.