Tri, tri again. Last year I suffered through a highly-overrated regimented training process for the SHEROX "Sprint" {800 m swim/13 mi bike/5K--like anybody sprints that} Triathlon in Tempe. This year, not too much! I was surprised that I even finished the race. But I managed. I hollered at Megan so much during the run that she finally waited for me and we crossed the finish line together. That was the fantasy that I'd had in my head. To finish with one of my sisters.
Disclaimer: Megan had a head start on me because they started her heat (age 35-39) before mine (the awesome 40-45 year old heat). She kicked my bootay in the bike, though.
This tri was way more fun--(if sweating yourself to oblivion can be considered "fun"). Maybe because I had my two sisters [Megan and Susan] and SIL Maren along for the gig. Maybe because I had such low expectations? Maybe because I had nothing to prove this time. Maybe because I knew what to expect since this was my 2nd tri.
Nobody looks good in a swim cap. No one. Ever.
Some things I had to think about to keep me from repeating last year's panic attack(s) in the water: the Kentucky Derby, for one. [was anyone else inspired at how the underdog $7,000 horse with a hick of an owner beat the million dollar thoroughbreds owned by all the Saudis?] I also kept thinking about how I really shouldn't even be here because I hadn't trained very much, and how lucky I felt to be with my sisters and how proud I was of my sisters and then I got a little choked up and had to get it together and then I thought about my rhythm of strokes and breathing, and so on, so on. I even managed to notice the blueness of the sky and the airplanes overhead during my breaths. This was my stream of conscienceness. The water was nastily fetid.
{the woman above swimming on her back deserves some kudos--I did my fair share of breast stroke to catch my breath. Swimming in Tempe Town Lake takes some grit.}
Megan and her kids, Deven and Jeffrey. (above)
Over. Till next year?
