The Danskin mini-triathlon is in two weeks.
New bathing suit puchased? Check.
Fancy racing bike ready to break the sound barrrier? Check.
Number of times I’ve gone swimming? ZERO.
Number of times I’ve gone for a bike ride in the great outdoors in the last year? ONCE.
Simply because I can run for an hour (which I did this morning while pushing Pitter in his buggy) I seem to be under the delusion that everything will be A-OK during a race requiring me to engage in TWO other sports. Also? My plan to lose a few pounds has of course backfired and I do believe I’m UP 2-5lbs.
When we moved to Indiana I had visions of running like a gazelle across the plains by summertime. Instead I’m more of an ox hauling myself through the fields. Moving, yes. Quickly, not so much.
Can all of this be recitifed in 14 days? Stay tuned. So as not to plunge into total panic, my philosophy as of this week is to approach the upcoming sprint race as a transition back into racing after having Pitter. No set goals but to finish. No competition with myself to beat previous times at the same distance.
“Maybe I won’t even wear a watch or look at the clock during the race,” I said to Sweet Cheeks the other day.
“I seriously doubt you’re capable of that, you competitive psycho,” (or something to that effect), he replied.
No, I thought, I can be Zen about this! I’m a mother now–I roll with the punches, I comnpromise, I recognize the larger priorities in life. It doesn’t have to be a “race”!
Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? Sweet Cheeks knows me too well.
