I Got Stupid and Signed Up For A Triathlon

This is what I’m used to. Won’t be this nice in a triathlon.

It’s been a busy time here. And yes, you read the headline right. I got stupid and decided to add yet another new endeavor to my bucket list. Bad enough my first open water swim is two weeks away. Now I have a triathlon less than three months away as well.

It seemed like a good idea at the time I hit the “Register Now” button on the website. No, I didn’t think it through for very long. Yes, I did have a sports-deprived childhood. No, my parents weren’t mean to me. Yes, I can cycle, run and swim. No, I have no idea what I’m doing in triathlon-land. Yes, I think I will figure it out.

I’ve already had my first shock trying to find a one-piece triathlon suit, Size is a problem. My size, not the suit’s size. Triathlon types are skinny people. I am not one of those types. So the search is ongoing. I have all the other gear I need. I have three months to build up a good-size case of nerves. Part of me wants someone to talk me out of this. Part of me wants to find out if fear and adrenaline are enough to push someone through a multi-sport endeavor.  As time and training go on, I’ll keep you posted on what I do, what I learn and even confess to (at least some of) the abysmally idiotic things I don’t plan on, but will inevitably happen along the way to the last Saturday in June.

A Runner’s Summer: It’s Getting Hot Out There

Run and drink and run and drink….. Courtesy of Creative Commons.

For most of you, the end of the winter to end all winters is a welcome thing.

You don’t ever want to hear the phrase “polar vortex” again. The next time you pick up a snow shovel, you will probably use it to clonk a TV weatherperson over the head. The words “road salt” are four-letter words of the very, very bad variety.

So the athletes among you are digging out the running shoes, oiling your bikes and making sure your workout gear still fits.

For us, the season is coming to the end. It’s getting hot out there. I know this because I did a 5K this morning. And on an overcast morning, with the threat of rain in the air, plenty of people agreed with me; it’s getting hot out there.

I finished, but not a PR by any means. I did see plenty of runners become joggers, and joggers turn into walkers. A lot of water was consumed, and EMTs were kept busy at the finish line, attending to the confused and overheated.

Hot-weather races feel and smell different, don’t they? The rest rooms/portable potties take on that “ripe” smell a little faster, running shirts get stripped off sooner, water stops get more use and runners move a bit slower after it’s over. And you can tell by the food consumed after the race as well. Fewer pancakes and bagels, more frozen ice pops, oranges and a sports drink in each hand becomes the rule in hot-weather sports.

Oh, and more bragging. Far more bragging about getting out and getting it done in hot conditions. After all, it’s about staring down the elements and beating up on Mother Nature.

So enjoy your racing season, those of you in temperate climates. When I travel this summer, I may try and find a race or two, just for the fun of doing something in a new venue. But in the tropics, it’s too hot to trot.

 

Bike Shop Blues: You Didn’t Have To Be So Obvious

Why you should support your local bike shop (Photo credit: timmycorkery)

I stopped into a local bike shop today, to finally order my new bike. For those of you who don’t recall, I had a little accident last November. I was fine (eventually), but the bike was not. And I’ve wanted to move up to a nicer, more lightweight bike;  something I could hopefully use for triathlons after the eye surgery is done.

The good news: the bike is coming in next week, and I even get a choice of two colors (hey, it’s not a component bike; you don’t get a lot of cool stuff to pick from on a racing bike, unless you’re choosing the parts yourself and shelling out thousands).

The bad news: I didn’t rate a whole lot of respect at the bike shop. I’m thinking it has to do with the way I look. The disdain and the brush-off were fairly obvious from the salesperson, whom I happen to know from participation in another sport.

If you see me in person, your first thought isn’t going to be, “Looks like a triathlete to me.” I look more like a spectator. That I have a share of medals and ribbons for running and swimming (none for cycling) isn’t something you’d know about, unless you know me AND you’ve been in my house. The fact is, the size zero, rail-thin athletes among you might be very surprised to find out some interesting things about the rest of us:

1. we may not look like you, but we still want to play like you.
2. we’re not as good as you, but we’re pretty good at it.
3. we’d like a shot at looking and dressing the part, even if it makes people point, laugh, hyperventilate or faint
4. we’d prefer to be treated like any other customer. We may not look like a Tour de France rider, but our money’s just as green.

I should be used to this, since I’ve been teased and picked on from a very early age. Usually chosen last for any team game and left to play third string as a kid; harassed from cars while running and ignored everywhere from retail stores to restaurants. It’s a strange thing that while our society is getting heavier (and no, I don’t consider this a good thing, because of the attendant health issues), heavier people are being marginalized more. I cannot fix what society chooses to do. I can fight back and get respect, or I can withhold my patronage of any business that decides my looks mean I don’t belong there.

I do plan on going back and getting the bike, by the way. It’s a small shop, and I happen to like the owner. As it happens, she was not there today, but next week, I’ll be sure she is when I stop in. Will I have “the conversation” with her? Should I?

Related articles

• Bicycles, Cycling Gear & Equipment Training in New Zealand (waltonchristy012.wordpress.com)
• Come Inside! [and bring your bike] (brickandmortarplaybook.wordpress.com)
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It Hurts When Your Bike Hits A Curb

A bicycle symbol adjacent to a curb extension (likely located in British Columbia, Canada) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you’re a believer in the obvious, then the headline above pretty much says it all. I had an accident this week. It was dumb and ugly.

The good news: despite significant soreness and bruises, nothing is broken. And getting out of bed does not require a derrick.

The bad news: I’m hurt; pain’s about a 5 on a 1 to 10 scale, and the bike is not in good shape right now.

Frankly, I deserved more injury than I received, given that I

a) did not have to ride that day, and probably should have listened to the little voice in my head telling me that rest is not a four-letter word;

b) knew weather conditions were not optimal – strong winds had persisted for days; and

c) totally misjudged the curb, failed to get my foot out of the stirrup fast enough and wound up butt-side down wearing my bike wrapped around my body, but I feel pretty lucky.

For one thing, it was early enough that no one saw my inglorious drop from upright to sprawled position. It’s nice when a witness stops to assist, but it’s not how I want a stranger to remember me. And there are no broken bones, big gashes or bike gear that need replacing. The bike itself probably is not worth the repairs, but I was planning on buying a new one to replace this fifteen-year-old model anyway. Ironically, my current bike is a replacement for one that was wrecked in another accident years ago. That incident involved the stupidity of an inattentive driver who sideswiped me, resulting in major road rash and a bike bent at odd angles, but fortunately nothing more.

You may wonder why I continued to ride after that first incident. I love it, plain and simple. Love the exercise, love the freedom, love the mechanics of riding. Oh, and it used to give the pharmacy techs at my old drugstore a giggle when I cycled into the drive-through lane to pick up prescriptions. I don’t fear the risks as much as I look forward to the rewards. And I like a challenge, whether it comes on two wheels, a swimmer’s starting block or the start/finish line of a ten kilometer race.

I got a late start on the athletic life. I don’t blame anyone or anything in the past for that. I’m just trying to catch up too fast, I guess. But note to self: apply the brakes every now and then. There’s no shame in working the slow(er) lane sometimes.

Related articles

• Biking for Beginners: 10 Tips to Ride Your Bicycle Safely in Traffic (lasesana.wordpress.com)
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• Pain (purplemystique.wordpress.com)
• Photos: Toronto Protesters Meet Bike Lane Removal Crew Head On (streetsblog.net)

I Am NOT Walking…It’s Running At A Slower Pace

Out for my usual (for the summer months) three-mile run this morning, and I stop to pick up the paper. “So, how was your walk?” the clerk at the drugstore asks.

“I wasn’t walking, I was running,” I huffed as I paid for the paper. And I thought to myself, it’s not the first time I’ve corrected you about this mistaken notion, buddy.

And it’s hardly the first time anyone’s ever mistaken me for a person who walks, rather than runs. When I mention to people I’ve signed up for a 5K, the first thing they usually say is “Oh, how long does it take you to walk that far?” At the race venue, people come up to me and ask me if the walkers are supposed to start in the back of the field.

In case you haven’t figured it out, I get annoyed about this stuff. It’s not that I’m an easily annoyed athletic person. It’s that I don’t look like the classic athletic person. I’m not muscular like your long-term gym rat. I’m not rail-thin like a runner. I’m not slightly hunched over like a dedicated cyclist. I don’t smell grossly of chlorine. Yet I do run, swim and bike, sometimes two of them in the same day.

Handling the incredulity of other runners, cyclists and swimmers is one thing. But try going into a store that sells athletic apparel when you look like me (think human cube fridge: solidly built, but not much in the way of streamlining for speed). Salespeople look at you like, “Uh huh. Really, Um…can’t help you. I gotta go do something else, like pick up pins from the dressing room floor.”

Mind you, I’d never give up exercise. It’s healthy, I like it and it keeps my stress at somewhat manageable levels. No one needs the respect of others to get the workout done and get satisfaction from it. But acknowledgement from one’s fellows as one of the gang is nice at any age.