Triathlon training

OK, so I did the big dramatic "end of year" thing, and may have said it would be the last post I made this year on here.

I lied, and I'm not sorry.

On Sunday I'm taking part in a sprint triathlon at Mission Bay. For those of you who haven't heard me banging on about this yet, it's a 500m swim in the sea, then a 20km cycle, then a 5km run to finish up. I was originally going to do the min-version but pride and a sense of masochism has seen me opt for the grown-up distances. I have even purchased this wondrous garment that's specifically for triathlashowoffs, because for the life of me I couldn't figure out how I was going to get changed out my geriatric-looking swimsuit into something I could run in with any dignity in a short time frame. Also, now I've bought the bloody thing I have to do it.

The ribena seal gets her game face on

I'm nervous. I can run, I can cycle, I can swim. But bolt the three together? In public? Against other people? Uhhh, maybe not.

I'll be honest, my training's not gone as well as I'd hoped. I made the decision to do this quite recently and there have been lots of end-of-year excuses happening every week so I've been out running and swimming when I can but nothing particularly structured. Running has been hard to get back into since the accident. Not because my ankle is painful or anything (after a few minutes it loosens up and I don't notice it) but I guess just mentally getting back in.

Today I GOT BACK IN!

So I started off the way I always start a run. The mental prep happens about half an hour before trainers hit tarmac. A condensed version looks like this: "You're going to get off the couch and get changed into your running gear. You're going to do it now, and look at tumblr later. NOW, BRUJA. OK, there's your sports bra. And your shorts. You're putting them on. once they're on you have to go for the run, otherwise you're a loser sitting in your flat, reading facebook wearing running gear. DON'T BE THAT PERSON. OK, now you're out the door, you've put the key in your little pocket, you've queued up your tunes, now you have to start running..." and so it goes. Today though, once I got started, today felt different.

I love runs where I don't know where I'm going to go. I have a tendency to find a route I like, lock into it, and get bored. And slow. And stop going. But today, I went somewhere else, then decided to go one way instead of my original hazy idea. Then another. Then I was thinking "I'll turn down road X, unless I feel like carrying on and taking a longer route". That happened a few times. the final couple of kilometres was on Karangahape Road here in Auckland. A smelly, noisy, polluted road full of tourists, commuters and reflective windows. I OWNED that road today. It was hot, and every other breath gave me a smell of exhaust fumes and kebabs. But I ran the whole damn thing. I kept catching sight of myself in the windows of shops. Sweating, bright red, little tummy jiggling every time I took a step. It's weird though, I saw the jiggling and felt proud of myself. Proud that I'd hammered down years of feeling like I couldn't wear workout gear that was actually comfortable in case someone saw me (roomy trackpants- crap for almost everything). Proud of a body still bearing some nasty scars that was able to hit the pavement for over half an hour, even running on the spot at traffic lights (yeah, I'm that douchebag.). Proud of feeling like I could run forever, instead of having to constantly talk myself into making that last few hundred metres.

OK, so I ran just over 5k in the not-hugely-respectable time of 41 minutes. I could make excuses about traffic light stoppage time, the heat, the ankle blah blah. I won't though, because I have nothing to excuse. I ran further today than most adults ever do, and I'll do it again this week.

Also, I have nothing to excuse because I got home, logged my run, had a drink of water, prepped my bike and went for an hour-long cycle to Rosebank and back. I have a smugness factor that's through the roof round about now.