It’s Triathlon Season Eve: 2 weeks until my first triathlon of the season: Bassman, which is a local half distance race. This will be followed by Rev3 Quassy in June, Rhode Island 70.3 in July, and the main event of the year: Ironman Mont Tremblant, Quebec.
Each of the half-iron races has a specific purpose in my terms of my overall goals for Ironman Mont Tremblant.
In sum: race HARD, go FAST.
While I have always had a goal of getting faster (doesn’t everyone?!), this year my speed goals are particularly aggressive. In order to achieve them, I will have to push harder than I ever have. Much. Harder.
I know what’s coming. There’s no denying it’s going to hurt.
The ability to endure suffering over long distances has become a bit of a specialty of mine – at least in running. I know how to manage the suffer when I’m running. I even kind of like it.
Now, it’s time to take that same mindset and apply it to triathlon.
I’m not saying that my previous triathlons weren’t challenging – they were. You can’t go 140.6 miles (or 70.3 miles for that matter) without inflicting some torture.
But, I have to be honest with myself: while I have pushed hard, I have NEVER pushed to my physical diflucan edge in triathlon the way that I have in running.
There, I said it. There it is for all 2 of my readers to see.
I’m a triathlon namby-pamby.
But, that is no longer. I have been mentally preparing myself to fight, to push, to compete. I’m so ready to make the magic happen.
Even so, a small quiet voice enters my head from time to time.
What if I can’t do it?
Here’s the thing: I’ve come to accept that I CAN do it. I believe it. I’ve been the athlete I need to be in training to have the results I want on race day.
I’ve drooled on my bike.
I’ve snotted in the pool.
I’ve found renewed speed in my running.
Surely this should be enough to silence the voice? And, yet, she likes to prey on me during moments of reflection, particularly if a workout doesn’t go exactly as I might hope.
It is at these times when I have to recognize the voice for what it is: A COWARD.
This voice is afraid of the pain. This voice doesn’t understand that there is magic outside of the comfort zone. This voice doesn’t understand how very badly I want it this year. This voice doesn’t understand how willing I am to suffer to feel that magical feeling as I cross the finish line.
This voice doesn’t know who she’s messin’ with. This voice is going down.
