Deadline Day

My doctor's appointment isn't until Wednesday and I'm still suffering from the effects of Saturday. I got a call from my sister at near 10:00 pm, asking me if she should register me for the triathlon.

I told her no.

I also told her that it didn't mean I wouldn't do it (yet), but that there were two pieces to this. 1) I really need the motivation to come from myself, and not from any sense of "owing" her. 2) I honestly don't know if my back can handle this and need more time to figure it out.

I spent a lot of time today trying to figure out what I've accomplished, learned, and/or achieved in the last couple of weeks.

GOOD: Am getting better about writing something every day (or at least about every day if I don't get to posting it immediately).

BAD: I honestly feel no appreciable difference in my endurance--and since I can't really get to a point where I get my heart rate up, I'm honestly not even training it.

GOOD: I'm hauling my sorry butt to the gym much more frequently.

BAD: My back hurts worse than when I started.

GOOD: I got new shoes!

BAD: I'm digging into my painkillers more often. I am severely paranoid of becoming one of those people addicted to prescription pain medication. I nearly had a meltdown when I had to take a full dose and then a half dose in the same day (even though the total is only half of my daily prescription) and this was the day after I took a full dose already. They make me stupid and I tend to carry on and on more. Did I mention I had to take one today?

GOOD: My husband is happy that I'm going to the gym.

BAD: I hope it's not just because I'm out of the house and thus not asking him for money for something.

GOOD: I'm TRYING to do something differently.

I was going to try and counter that with another "bad" point, but honestly more "good" is coming out of this (aside the back pain).

My sister, disappointed that I wasn't registering for the triathlon, offered some suggestions, including the elliptical machine at the gym.

So tonight when I went, I tried out two different elliptical machines. First, I would just like to say that I felt completely uncoordinated and retarded in getting the dumb thing moving. The first one (and she had warned me this might happen) I hated. I ignored that it hurt, but I hated it so much that I decided it would be counter-productive to continue since it would just serve to discourage me. The second, I didn't hate. However, it did still hurt my back. Hurt so much that it made the treadmill seem pleasant.

So I decided I'd rather spend my workout time on something pleasant and went to the...treadmill instead. I'd already pushed my tolerance on my back, so I kept it to my 2MPH walk pace (hello, heart rate 97), and then went on the recumbent bike for awhile.

Of course I went to the hot tub afterward. What's the point of going to the gym if not to use the hot tub? Plus, I do believe it helps to relax my back after the workout. Perhaps that's just an excuse, but it's an excuse that helps motivate me.

Not Much To Report

A much less productive day in terms of getting household chores done due to extended misery from yesterday. I kept thinking motivation would magically fall on me soon to get something (anything) done, but it didn't.

I DID get off my butt and go swimming. And then spent a generous amount of time in the hot tub. I even got out of the gym at a reasonable hour--right as the cleaning guy was blocking off the main entrance.

It's Saturday Night, So It's Time to P-A-R-T-Y!

Had a slow start to the morning--my husband took off for a three-day soccer tournament, and I dragged through my morning trying to get motivated to do anything.

Around 1:00, I went across the street to the neighbor's house--one of their girls loves organizing and cleaning, and I'd told her I'd pay her to help me out. Four hours later, we'd cleaned, reorganized, and moved furniture and toys into my daughter's room as well as made a decent dent in a couple of other projects.

I have a HUGE bag of hand-me-downs to sell at our upcoming garage sale, mostly clothing and stuffed animals. I was ready to haul off the box to Goodwill, I was so excited to have purged all of it, but the same neighbor is going to be having a garage sale and seems to think it will be worth the $2.75 I expect to collect from it.

We also--this is good and bad--filled our garbage can. I'm glad the stuff is gone, but I have a couple (read: all) rooms left to purge, not even counting the garage. I may need to rent a dumpster. Or two.

So my progress on the house was great, even though the rest of the house looks like something blew up. Even robbers don't leave that much of a mess. Unfortunately, all the bending and leaning and lifting and walking rendered me useless by about 7:00 pm.

We (meaning my husband and I) then had one of our typical "conversations" when I walked out onto the deck and noticed he was starting up the barbecue.

Me: MMMM, Yummy! What are going to cook?
Him: A barbecue. (How he can say this with a level tone and straight face, I don't know.)
Me: Yes, I assumed that, since you are standing in front of it and lighting it. What I meant was, WHAT are you going to barbecue?
Him: Chicken.
Me: Is there going to be enough for me? (This actually is a reasonable question for me to be asking.)
Him: Yeah, I guess, if you want some.
Me: Were you going to fix anything else or do you want me to make some rice?
Him: Rice would be nice.
Me: When is the chicken going to be ready?
Him: About 20 minutes.

Now, I know I married a Moroccan and he lives on Moroccan time. Some of you may be chuckling and thinking to yourself, "Oh that must be like (fill in the locality) time, where it means half an hour later than what is stated." Clearly, you have never had to deal with a Moroccan on a regular basis. Moroccan time is "It happens when it happens, if it happens at all." Since he was lighting the barbecue, I assumed that it (being barbecued chicken) was going to happen, but it could be anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours later.

Me: So do I have time to make a quick run to the store?
Him: Where are you going?
Me: Trader Joe's.
Daughter: I WANT TO PUSH THE CART! (Trader Joe's has miniature push carts which I let her use and thus it is her favorite store.)
Him: Oh.
Me: So do I have time to go?
Him: Probably not. I'm going to put the chicken on soon.
Me: Okay.

So I went inside and waited, figuring when I saw actual chicken-on-grill movement, I would start the rice.

I'm not sure what distracted me, but I ended up at my computer. Half an hour after the conversation, my husband came in and asked if I was going to cook any rice and if so, dinner would be ready soon and I needed to hurry. I jumped up and told him I'd start right away, which I did.

Then I came back to the computer and noticed he was heading into the shower.

Me: I thought you said dinner was going to be ready soon. (Despite KNOWING that he operates on Moroccan time, I can't always wrap my brain around it as the majority of the people I know, even if they are chronically late, operate on a much more immediate basis and thus I'm not always in synch. With him or normal people.)

Him: It is. But first I have to take a shower. It's going to be like 15 minutes.
Me: Okay, 30 minutes ago, you told me it would be ready in 20 minutes.
Him: Yeah, but I have to take a shower.
Me: I'm going shopping.
Him: Where are you going?
Me: Trader Joe's, like I said earlier.
Daughter: I WANT TO PUSH THE CART!
Him: Oh.
Me (to daughter): Sorry, honey, you're not coming.

I grabbed my purse and took off, figuring that if the first five of twenty minutes equaled a half hour, then I had another hour and a half before dinner--plenty of time to do grocery shopping before the store closed.

As a side note, one of our Arab friends (also a late-running time group), when my husband told him we would be there in five minutes (we were already an hour and a half late), once replied, "Five American minutes or five Arab minutes?"

I got home about an hour later. My daughter ran and grabbed my leg as I walked in the door and hugged it, yelling "MAMA!" Then she pulled away and told me, in French, that I was bad and had made mischief. I looked to my husband and asked him why I was in trouble. I was informed that 1) I had not taken her with me to Trader Joe's and she was upset by this because she wanted to push the cart and 2) I had not given her a hug and kiss before leaving. Also, where was I because dinner was ready awhile ago.

Dinner was actually still hot (another quirk of Arab time is that despite while you are waiting for something it may be near forever, once food is ready, minutes are counted in seconds if they have to wait to eat--thus if I'm one minute late, he feels he's already waited an hour), so we sat down and fended off the dogs while trying to eat our meal (which was marinated chicken skewers that were fabulous).

My dessert? Lying down and reading while letting the anti-inflammatories and painkillers kick in. Yes, our family knows how to P-A-R-T-Y.

Notice how there is no mention of a workout? That's because there wasn't one.

Apparently Only Motivated by Guilt

My current internal debate is whether guilt-induced motivation is good or bad.

Bad because it means that I only have motivation if I'm feeling guilty about something.
Bad because it means I have something to feel guilty about.
Good because at least I'm off my butt?

I'm still quite back sore from a couple of days ago and finally remembered to call my doctor to schedule an appointment. I can't get in until next Wednesday.

I have to give my sister an answer by Monday as to whether or not I'm doing this if she's going to pay for it. Since the thing that motivates me to work out most right now is the guilt when I don't, I'm not sure I'm quite in the right mindset for the challenge. I don't want to feel like I somehow "owe" her (whether or not she would feel this is irrelevant; I would feel that way) and either 1) let her down or 2) do this because I feel I owe her instead of doing it for myself.

In any case, I really don't know if my back will hold up for simply getting into shape enough to start training for the triathlon since I haven't felt like any of my workouts were even that demanding, yet couldn't push it any harder because of my back (thus the current lack of fitness level).

For tonight's workout, it meant walking a mile in 30 minutes (again with the 2 mile an hour pace). This time I hadn't taken painkillers first, so it did hurt even at the slow rate--although I managed longer than before when I was at the faster rates. Again though, my heart rate didn't even get into the triple digits.

Then I went on the recumbent bike for about 20 minutes and actually did manage to get my heart rate up, but since I'd walked first, that ended up hurting too.

The good thing about my workout? I managed to get done before they came in to clean the locker room.

I feel like all I do is whine about my back pain. I'm trying to do something about it in the sense that not exercising hasn't worked, so attempting to exercise at low to moderate levels to affect change should be doing something. Perhaps it will take longer and I just need to be patient.

Like succinctness, patience is not one of my stronger qualities.

Motivation through guilt apparently is, although I'm not sure that even counts as "quality."

Blame Is So Much Easier than Taking Responsibility

Since I didn't exercise yesterday, I planned out today so that I could get to the gym late enough that equipment would be free, yet early enough that I could get out of the locker room before the male non-English-speaking janitorial staff surprised me in my towel again. In other words, I planned to be there about 10:00 pm.

My sister, still very excited about the idea of me doing this (even though I have NOT committed to it yet), has sent me a workout on email and today a Nutrition for Endurance Athletes book also arrived.

I KNOW she means well. I know I should probably be taking whatever help I can get. I kind of had to chuckle at the nutrition for endurance training, since that is NOT the mode I'm in at this point. Walking at 2 miles an hour is not exactly endurance fitness considering it doesn't even get my heart rate into the triple digits. But in any case, one of my internal battles is finding the SELF motivation to do this.

As is demonstrated by the fact that when Nabyl announced at 9:30 he was leaving for soccer and wouldn't be back until 11:00, I decided to postpone my workout, but was then too tired to go when he got home. I can't really blame it on him, but I collect less self-inflicted guilt than if I accept responsibility for it.

I've been wondering lately (as I've been watching the countdown counter on the side of this blog) if maybe I should just register for the triathlon because it may just force me to push myself. At the same time, I still haven't yet been able to determine whether or not this may be realistic. So far, with the way things have been going, I'm still on the "Delusional" end of the spectrum.

Even the dog is doing poorly on the training as we still didn't hit her step count, either.

Can Chasing a Toddler Around Chuck E. Cheese Count as Training?

Or, for that matter, can chasing two grown men around Chuck E. Cheese count as training?

One of my husband's friends is going to be out of town for the next couple of weeks and wanted to take our daughter to Chuck E. Cheese. Since I knew that he and my husband would probably have more fun than the toddler, I agreed.

They only lost our daughter a few times and fortunately the "security" is somewhat decent, as our friend proved when we left. He asked us to wait behind and see what they did if he tried to walk out with our daughter.

I'm not sure the staff was nearly as amused as he was, but it was just one more part of the fun for him.

One of the things I discovered that has been rather sad is through my little walking meter. I put one on the dog (it came with two meters). It turns out that when we are gone, she does NOTHING. We leave, she goes somewhere to lie down, and does not move again until we get back. I had not realized how under-exercised she is. So I will be needing to do some more of my training in walk-around-the-neighborhood-with-doggie format.

Still keep forgetting to call the doctor.

Top Fifteen Things I Learned, Some of Which I Didn't Want To Know

This was going to be a "Top Ten" list, but as anyone who knows me will attest, succinctness is not one of my better qualities (or possibly not even one of my qualities at all), so here goes.

15) Taking pain medication two hours before my workout makes it less difficult to do things in my workout (yes, yes, I know this is a recipe to overdo it and hurt myself worse, but if I go into the whole explanation, this top fifteen list will be so long it will run into tomorrow).

14) Despite pain medication, it still hurts to walk on the treadmill.

13) If I slow the treadmill down to 2 miles an hour, it doesn't hurt.

12) If I calculate that pace out to the 3.1 miles of the triathlon, it will only take me 93 minutes for the "run."

11) That's depressing.

10) If I want to feel better about my progress, I should track it on my iPod, which apparently is off by quite a bit, indicating 1.25 miles for every actual 1 mile in comparison to the treadmill.

9) I can run a little tiny bit without it hurting--but even mixing brief spurts with slow walking, it takes me exactly an hour to finish 3.1 miles.

8) BUT I CAN DO IT.

7) My maternity swimsuit really doesn't fit, and really won't work "for now" since one of "the girls" popped out (yes, completely) in the middle of swimming laps. Thank goodness I was only in the pool for 20 minutes and no one else was around, because it was near 1:00 in the morning.

6) I can now swim a half mile in 20 minutes.

5) Unfortunately, this means I can swim nearly as fast as I can walk.

4) They clean the women's locker room at 24-Hour Fitness from 1:00 to 3:00 am.

3) By "they" I mean "an individual of the male gender."

2) Also, "they" don't post a sign indicating this from the pool entry to the locker room.

1) This makes for very awkward me-standing-in-towel-only-begging-for-privacy-to-someone-who-doesn't-speak-English moment.

After getting home, I discovered two more things (besides that a Top Seventeen just sounded dumb): 1) There are lots of slugs on my front walkway that late at night and 2) my husband didn't let the dog out. *sigh*

I've Learned One Thing

I had another huge list of TO-DOs that didn't get done. Although if you look at the list, it looks great since it was on a whiteboard and my lovely daughter erased it.

The little bit that I did get done resulted in my back being so sore that my husband practically had to push me out the door to get to the gym.

Since getting into my swimsuit was painful, I went straight to the hot tub. I know, sitting in the hot tub does not a workout make.

I'm very afraid that the run (or probably walk, in my case, at least at the current lack of progress level) may prevent me from finishing this triathlon.

I initially was wondering if my hippopotamus stature was because I didn't exercise because it hurt my back or if my back was hurting because I didn't exercise. I'm more afraid now that exercise hurts my back.

My husband asked if I am giving up. I immediately told him no. Since I forgot to call the doctor today, I will have to remember to do that tomorrow because even if a triathlon isn't on my horizon, at my age walking (and other functions of daily living) should not be this difficult or painful.

Something has to change. I hate taking painkillers so that it doesn't hurt to get dressed or load the dishwasher. By "hurt" I don't mean "is uncomfortable" but rather after performing said activities have to sit down and slowly take deep breaths and attempt to relax and find a comfortable position before I can do anything else--and sometimes that is even after taking the painkillers.

Maybe it's time for more acupuncture too.

Another Day, Another Massage

Despite feeling good yesterday evening, I woke up pretty sore again. Then I had another all-day class (got about 3 hours of massage this time). Unfortunately because I had to lie prone for a good portion of the day, I was pretty stiff at the end.

I ended up coming home and sleeping again.

For the last two days, I didn't even hit my target steps on my walking meter. (Even if I hadn't raised my target, I would have missed it--it was that bad.) I've only got about 8 days left this month to decide if I'm going to do this triathlon.

That's not much time to figure out if I could walk the last segment of it (or think I might be able to get there). I'm not giving up, but I do think I may end up waiting to register. If I can't walk for more than 15-20 minutes on a treadmill, there's no way I'm going to be able to walk 3.1 miles after swimming and biking.

I'll call the doctor tomorrow, again.

All Pain, No Gain

Woke.

Up.

Sore.

Again, not workout sore. Need pharmaceuticals sore.

However, I had a continuing education massage class to take. In these classes, you have to both give and receive massage. Unfortunately, you really shouldn't receive massage when you're on painkillers or anti-inflammatories. Basically, both of those somewhat "numb" your sensory input and pressure that feels great during treatment can actually be damaging due to the misperceptions.

In other words, I couldn't take anything, or I would lose the money I had to pay for class.

I don't like taking my drugs because I usually end up with phenomenal headaches afterwards anyway. So any time I hurt this much, I have this extended internal debate as to whether being able to stand up all day is worth having to lie down for a few hours tomorrow.

I went to class, sans drugs, and ended up receiving about 2.5 hours of massage treatment.

I came home and was amazed at two things. 1) I wasn't hurting any more (and none of the massage had been on my back--only head and forearms). 2) I was exhausted.

One of my husband's friends was over. This particular friend is a great guy--he and my husband have a great time together since they're both from Morocco. Usually though he stays later than I stay up and I typically head off to bed shortly before midnight. Then I have to get up after midnight and ask the two of them if they can keep it down--and keep the doors closed so I can't hear them from the other end of the house.

I was so exhausted, I fell asleep in the living room, with the lights on, them making noise in the next room (and no door closed in between), and it was only 9:00.

So much for my training.

And a Lovely Evening to You, Too!

Surprisingly, I woke up not feeling any worse than any other morning. A good sign to start out with.

Then I spent much of the day trying to clean and as the day went on my back got worse and worse.

However, I didn't want to quit after just one workout, so I went to the gym. This time, I started on the treadmill but had to get off after 15 minutes. I'm not sure I even worked hard enough to raise my heart rate above "comatose" but my back hurt so much I had to hang on (with a deathgrip) to the supports to step down off of it.

I staggered into the locker room and changed into my swimsuit, then went and sat in the jacuzzi and did some stretching. After awhile, I felt good enough to leave, so I decided I'd swim instead.

Good news: I did a half mile in about 22 minutes. Bad news: they're going to need a buoy every 25 meters that I can hang on to and then push off of to get going again.

Then I sat in the hot tub some more. There was a older guy there with his daughters. We started talking and it turns out his family just moved here a couple of months ago--Iraqi refugees that had been hiding in Syria for four years.

Puts things in perspective when you meet people with far larger problems than your own.

It's a good thing though that I've had some experience with Arab culture and things that are apparently appropriate to say for them but not so much for us. Otherwise, I probably would have left a less-than-polite impression of the locals when he said to me, "You are very much like my wife." (Pause.) "A little bit fat, but still beautiful."

Fortunately, since I've heard worse from my in-laws, I was able to smile and nod. And reinforce that despite how much this hurts, I probably need to keep going anyway.

Better Something than Nothing?

Five days after this determination/delusion set in and I suppose even procrastination has its limits.

Much of the day was spent running my daughter around to different things, like Preschool Storytime at the Library, which included a visit to a backhoe for Public Works Week. Then a battle for naptime, which resulted in me joining her (an unfortunate regularity, but it balances out with the number of times I get up in the night to deal with pets). Finally, when my husband got home, I headed to the gymnastics gym for a private lesson and on the way home, 24-Hour Fitness.

One of the things that runs through my head every time I head in to 24-Hour Fitness is that they scan my card and check a monitor to ensure my membership is current. I have no idea what else comes up on that screen, but I wonder if it says things like how long it was since my last visit? And if it does say that, what goes through the person's head? Perhaps Wow, no wonder she's so out of shape if she never uses this membership or maybe I should give them more credit and it's more along the lines of Good for her, at least she's making an effort today.

Why I care what the front desk dude at 24 Hour Fitness thinks of me, I'm not sure, since I typically don't care what anyone thinks.

Anyway, I finally hauled my butt to the gym. 20 minutes on the recumbent bike; fine but sweaty (as I should be). 20 minutes walking on the treadmill...challenging. What was frustrating was that I was walking at only a moderate pace, but at about 15 minutes in, my back was really hurting. I wasn't tired (endurance wise), I wasn't fatigued (muscle capability aspect), I was in pain. I went another five minutes, for the total 20 and a whole entire mile.

Good news? So far my new shoes don't hurt my feet. Bad news? I went and sat in the hot tub for longer than I spent on the treadmill.

I hope I can move tomorrow.

Therapy First, Then Training

By therapy, I should probably mean sitting with a shrink figuring out why I make excuses in circles and what horrible tragedy I suppressed from childhood, coming to terms with everything and then start happily dancing in a meadow full of flowers.

Instead, I mean retail therapy.

I decided to tell my husband what I've been stewing over for the last several days. He is immediately supportive (and this is why I married him).

He is slightly less supportive of the costs, although agrees that 1) it's worth it and 2) it's easier than arguing with me.

I'm sent out with a budget of $80 for running shoes. I leave the store $155 later with shoes, socks, a bra, and a one-year membership that prevented the total trip from being $200.

Since it is, of course, critical to monitor your training, I headed for the electronics store and also got a program for my Nintendo DS. It's cool! It has these puzzles with blocks and you connect them in groups and then on the other side they make these different groups and you try to...

...wait, maybe that's part of my problem too. Okay, so I did get the puzzle program, but I also got a "personal trainer: walking" program with this little thing I'm supposed to carry around that then communicates with my game console. Yes, it's a novelty. No, I probably didn't need it at all. Yes, I already ran around the house a bunch to see if it works (it's actually kinda neat). I also programmed the second monitor for the dog who could use more activity as well.

So now I have shoes. I've done the retail therapy. I've received hubby approval. If I have any excuses left, I will have to start beating them down with positive reinforcements. Or maybe visit actual therapy.

Time to Start Procrastinating

Made the possible mistake of "casually" mentioning to my sister that I saw her Facebook posting about doing the triathlon and told her I was impressed she was going to try.

She tried to talk me into doing the triathlon with her. I laughed at her and told her she was crazy. I didn't want to tell her that I was considering it. That I'd started considering it two days ago.

I still had some things to figure out. 1: Cost. 2: Reality.

Cost
I started by looking at the registration cost. If I sign up by the end of the month, it's $110. I would also have to travel, either by car or plane, about 1000 miles (about $300 minimum, either way). I would need at least two nights of hotel rooms ($250+). And that would be the event alone. Then there would be shoes for running, swimsuits (and size extra elephant is not only hard to find, but expensive), and a bike and gear.

Reality
As much as I'm considering this, it scares the crap out of me. I also have this drive to not let others down, so if I say I'm going to do something, I either follow through or wallow in self-destructive levels of guilt for ages afterward. I feel like I need to do this in secret to a level that I'm not even sure I want to tell my husband. Yet at the same time, I'm going to need his support.

And then I realize that perhaps one tiny aspect of my problem is an ability to weave an intricate web of excuses so interconnected, complex, and compounded upon each other that no resolution is possible so therefore I cannot take action.

Perhaps it is more ridiculous for me NOT to try than to try.

I call my sister and tell her I'm considering it. She is stunned (or does a good job of pretending to be). I also tell her I'm not sure. I'm thinking that even though it would cost me more to register in, say, October (one month before the triathlon itself), it makes more sense for me to train and try to get ready than to pay for it and then not go--at least financially.

She offers to pay for it if I will commit to it by the end of May.

I can't yet. Just yesterday I took pain medication because it hurt to bend over to pick up the toilet lid, and then I had a hard time straightening. Then this morning had a headache (as is usual the day after I cave in and take the pain medication). Realize I'm spinning my web again.

My sister, in a good-hearted attempted to encourage me, lets me know that "Lots of people way bigger than you do triathlons--you'd be surprised--and they just walk the whole way, but they need something more challenging than lifting weights at the gym--and if they could do it, you could totally do it--and beat them!"

I already know I'm not entering it to win. I would be in that "I'm doing it just to see if I could finish" category. My sister, again trying to encourage me, lets me know that they have either age divisions or weight divisions--over 145 for women. It is diplomatically called the "Athena" division, but I have already told her I am entering the Hippopotamus division, if I'm doing this at all. And speaking of which, she is not to tell ANYONE that I'm considering it.

To which she responds, "Um. Oops."

Apparently she had told my dad she was going to try to convince me to do the triathlon with her. I asked her what exactly she told him. She said, "Well, I told him you laughed at me."

I told her that if it came up in conversation again, she was to tell Dad that I said I would rather jump into a vat of slugs.

Regardless, I took the dog on two walks, trying to increase my walking distance, and seeing how much I can build to. Definitely need new shoes.

If I'm going to keep thinking about this, I need to begin doing some of the physical end. I'll start tomorrow.

Crazy Is as Crazy Does

I followed my sister's link to the triathlon web site. I nosed around through everything I could find, including registration, reviews of the race from prior years, tips for beginners, training schedules, age/weight divisions, and more.

I may be sitting at a laptop, but a good part of my brain is operating--against my rational better judgment--as if I may actually follow through with this. The rational part is telling me that if I was serious, I would have started training two years ago to get into reasonable shape so that I could think about starting to train for an athletic event.

Then the rational part reminds me that I haven't been able to find anything to motivate me to do anything differently in the last five years, so why not? I start breaking it down.

The Swim
This is a half mile swim in open water. Good news: Even when I haven't been to the gym in months, I can do a half mile swim. It may take me 20-25 minutes, but I can totally do it. Bad news: the pool is only 25 meters long and I have a tendency to pant and gasp whenever I get to the end. Good news: it doesn't take me long to get past that if I go regularly. Bad news: last time I tried swimming in open water, I nearly had a panic attack, definitely had a meltdown, and retreated to the beach and a nice safe book. Will have to look into swimming in not pools as part of training.

The Bike Ride
This is a 15K (9 mile) ride. I once rode my bike to California, weighed down with a tent, sleeping bag, food, camping gear, gallons of water, and a good dose of insanity. I was in better shape then (and way better shape by the end of the trip), but the slowest I went, with all that gear, was about 9 miles an hour. So if I have a decent bike (must see if Dad will let me have/borrow Mom's old bike), I could do this as well.

The Run
According to the web site, 3.1 miles. Hmmm.

Here's the thing. What happened five years ago was a back injury at work. I was lifting and felt something shift. The thought that went through my head was That's not good. So I lifted again. Next thought? I'm not doing that again. In fact, maybe I should go sit down for a bit. Half an hour later, I couldn't stand up. That night, I had to crawl to get to the bathroom.

Pharmaceuticals, chiropractic, physical therapy, and rest all helped--somewhat. Acupuncture finally provided some real relief, but there have been flare-ups since. The pain has been so bad that just walking to the end of the block with the dog will prevent me from trying anything that demanding for another two days.

It's been so long now that although I can blame the initial weight gain on my back, the ongoing issue I'm not sure I can. I'm no longer sure whether I'm not exercising because my back hurts or my back hurts because I'm not exercising. (Aside my back therapy exercises, that is.)

So back to the run of this triathlon. Right now, because of my back cycle, I'm not terribly fond of walking, let alone running. I've never really liked running for that matter.

Okay, I HATE running.

People in my family think I hate slugs. I don't actually hate them. I'm terrified of them at a psychologically phobic level. There's a difference. I see slugs and I scream and run.

Hmmm, maybe someone just needs to chase me with a slug.

Okay, so while I think I could probably reasonably make it through the swim and the biking portion, clearly this running bit is going to be the major part of the challenge.

But I said I was looking for a challenge--something to do differently than anything in the last five years. If this isn't a challenge, I don't know what is. I honestly don't know if I've ever run 3.1 miles continuously in my life. I've also never wanted to. Honestly, I don't really want to now, but this triathlon thing is still in my head, swimming, biking, and thinking about running into something new.

Someone may have to chase me with a slug all the way to the finish line (perhaps my sister). I'll be hoarse from the screaming by time I get there, but I just might get there.

A Special Kind of Crazy

My first thoughts and intentions on this project were far from noble. My sister, currently six months pregnant, posted on Facebook that she had registered for a triathlon, with a compete date only two and a half months after her due date. Her concerns? Whether she'd be walking or running the 5K at the end.

Shoot. I thought. If she can do that shortly after delivering a baby, I could do that.

Problems with my logic:
At six months pregnant, my sister is probably still at least 75 pounds lighter than me.
At six months pregnant, my sister has a more vigorous daily exercise routine than me.
Technically, she hasn't done this yet, so there is the possibility that she could fail (although if I want to get "technical," this is also highly unlikely).
I would have about three months to "catch up" to her current fitness level. Considering it took me about five years to get to the (lack of) fitness level I am at, "catch up" should probably be spelled "ketchup, please, on top of my second order of fries."

Despite no longer being able to shop in normal-sized human stores (I joked last winter about having to buy size "extra elephant" ski pants--pants whose waistband snaps popped open with a moderate size breath), despite having no idea what sorts of distances a triathlon involves, and despite not having a swimsuit, bicycle, or running shoes that fit, some kind of something of an idea was growing in my brain. This idea, the idea of me doing a triathlon, the idea of me having to get fit enough to start training to do a triathlon, the idea of me challenging myself out of my current body, the idea of having only five months for this, this idea--takes a special kind of crazy.

But then, I've done plenty of crazy things before and this one might even be good for me.