Zen and the Art of Kicks to the Face?

Here’s what triathlon training has been looking like this week:

Monday: swim day. It seemed harder than last time and was much more exhausting. I wished I had my trainer or TNT coach there so that I could ask if I was doing anything wrong or differently than before, but since it was a solo swim I tried to pay attention to my body and remember everything my coaches had taught me. I got through about 35 minutes before a water aerobic class came in and took over the pool. I was glad that I did the swim but felt a little discouraged that it wasn’t as easy breezy as the last time. I did learn an important lesson though – invest in some good waterproof mascara. No one likes to look like a raccoon. Or, I guess, wash off my mascara before I get in the water. But who has time for that?

I wanted to put in some miles on the bike after, but my legs were a little sore from the half marathon I did on Sunday so I decided to give them a rest. They did well in that half and earned a night in sweatpants in front of the tv!

Tuesday: cardio day. I chose to do Muay Thai. My legs were rested and I had some aggression to take out!  My sister and I took the class together, as we do every Tuesday, which always makes us more competitive (shocking, I know).  We switch partners regularly throughout the class, so there was a time when Katharine and I were together. At one point she was kicking and punching while I held the pads. Our rivalry increased with every punch and kick. She wanted to outshine me, and I wanted to prove that she couldn’t. Everything was working well for me until she kicked over the pads and got me right in the face. My sister – my TWIN SISTER – kicked me in the face.  Now it’s war. Tuesdays just got waaaay more competitive.

The rest of the class was great – jabs and crosses and roundhouse kicks with various conditioning in between – burpees, mountain climbers, squat jumps, jailhouse push-ups, and more. To say I was sweaty was an understatement. No matter – I transitioned into ballerina and headed to my pointe class! (With my brand new pointe shoes!!)

30 minutes of pointe was enough to both put my toes into a state of shock that I hadn’t experienced in about 15 years and make me feel like I needed a white tutu and Swan Lake music STAT (or a black tutu since I’ve always been the more “evil” twin).  I almost felt my feet breathe a sigh of relief when the half hour was up, but the rest of my being wanted more. I promised my teacher that I wouldn’t try anything at home between now and next week, but I may or may not have had my fingers crossed behind my back. She’ll only know if I come in next week with crutches, right?

Wednesday: more swimming.  I didn’t want to go.  I was tired and a little anxious about it. You don’t have to go. I told myself. Just swim at the gym by yourself like the other day and get help from the coaches next week. Go home. Take a nap. Missing one day won’t make you drown in the Hudson.  I fought with myself until I got to the moment of truth – the stop on the subway where I either headed home or crossed the platform to the local and continue uptown. I felt like I was going through the stages of grief and was on bargaining stage. Ok – if the local train is there, I’ll go. If the sign says it will be at the station in less than 2 mins, I’ll go. But if there’s a longer wait or if it’s super crowded, I’m going home. Fate doesn’t want me to drown in the Hudson, I guess, because there it was: a nearly empty local train at rush hour sitting in the station, doors open and waiting for me. Ok, triathlon gods – you win this one. And off I went.

We started swimming laps and I struggled with it like I did the other day.  I could do it, but it was exhausting.  And the thought of doing it in a body of water where I wouldn’t be able to stand up if I had to made me even more anxious.  Plus, there were more people this week and I had to narrowly dodge some kicks to the face on several occasions. (What is it with kicks to the  face this week?)  When I got to the wall after a particularly tiring lap, one of the head coaches was there to give me some advice.  He said that I was reaching too much on my stroke, that I was actually working much harder than I needed to. Then he said something that really resonated with me: Be lazy with it. Learn how to just be lazy. Whaaaat!? I wanted to jump out of the water and hug him.  Finally something I understood!  I could be lazy!! If there’s one thing in this whole world I know I can do well, it’s that I can lazy. It’s an art that I perfected years ago. I know you can’t tell with the triathlon training and the masters degrees and big-girl job and boxing and whatever else I do, but underneath all of that is just a little girl who wishes she was taking a nap.

Once he said that and demonstrated what he meant, it just kind of clicked and I swam lazily, but better. Much less tired and out of breath at the end. Way easier. Why was I trying so hard before? I wondered. No one likes an overachiever. (I tell that to the interns at work all the time.)  Once again, I left feeling better, more confident, more like an athlete.

A triathlete.

**AND thanks to all you generous folks, I am 44% done with my goal of raising $4,000.  If I don’t make my commitment goal, this whole triathlon thing may not happen for me.  Don’t let all this training be for nothing!! 🙂  Donate here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/nyc/nyctri14/meredith