Friday, May 31, 2013

I think, therefore I am neurotic

I am in a funk.  I haven't done a race since last month, and even though I have one on my calendar for September, and a plan to do a few more before then, I feel a little lost today.  My training program for Augusta begins a week from Monday, so this funk will come undone as soon as I have my first big girl double workout day.  Then I will be longing for a funk.  But the in-between time that happens from the end of a race to the beginning of the grind of training for another one just kinda stinks.


Tomorrow I am racing in my first biathlon.  The city in which I live puts on this great Dash and Splash series each summer, consisting of a 5k run followed by an 800m pool swim.  For some reason, this informal little neighborhood race gave me bad dreams last night.  I dreamt that I showed up at the wrong pool.  I dreamt that I wore my running shoes during the swim.  I couldn't figure out why I am so nerve-wracked about this race.  Then, a little while ago, it dawned on me.

I haven't raced in a pool since I was 17 years old.

Now, this isn't like a swim meet.  I don't think I will be starting on a block, and there aren't any starting guns or horns.  But, I haven't raced side by side with another human being - unless you count the pregnant lady swimming in the lane next to me at the pool last week, I could NOT let her beat me to the wall - in over 2 decades.

I have been putting in a ton of pool time, 16 miles in the month of May, to be exact.  For an old lady, that's a bunch.  I've been trying to get faster, pushing myself in drills and sprints, and I just haven't been dropping any significant time.  

I'm afraid that I will look slow and amateurish tomorrow, I guess.

Both my kids swim, and my daughter is always bugging me to race her in the pool.  She's 10, and she is so much faster than I am now, and faster than I was even when I was young and spry.  One of two things will happen tomorrow as she watches me finish my race:

  • I will swim fast enough for her to ramp up her pestering me into racing her at HER swim practice in front of HER coaches and teammates, or
  • I will swim so slow that it will prompt her to ask me if I was telling the truth when I told her that not only did I swim when I was younger, but that I was part of a relay team that set a school record.
Guess which scenario I am rooting for?


On another note, I hate running.  And it hates me.  We get to this place every summer.  Heat and humidity make it feel as if I am running with a loaded-down camel on my back - one who won't share any water from his hump with me, and I feel like I am fighting for each and every breath.  In another 5 months, me and running will be good again.  

Training for Augusta is going to be a long and sweaty road, I foresee.

**I apologize for the stream of consciousness.  This is what happens when I think.  And I thought that pool time took care of all that noise in my head...

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