The thermometer never went above freezing that day. Jumping up and down in a desperate last minute plea for warmth, I opened the door to enter the cold. My skin felt laced in needles, the negative three degree wind chill cut like knives against my flesh, the music pumped in tandem with my heart, and on cue, my smile braved the frost.
Training Season Has Begun.
The race calendar for 2013 list has been made, I checked it twice (post Christmas lovin’), and on January 1st, my sneakers kissed the frost. It was time to start training!!
Since off-season started, my anxiety to start training again has never been so overwhelming. Rock climbing helped subdue the itch, the crave, the pangs of desire to get out and train during the winter but thanks to the 10 races on docket, 4 of which are triathlons, the time is now.
And boy am I out of shape!
Part of my quirky personality is that I don’t like anything light, unless that means less calories. I will push myself into the ground then see it as a challenge to raise up after. My body does not always agree with this. Case in point: January 1st.
Total distance ran: absolutely no idea. 5k-10k?
Total time of indoor weights circuit: 30 minutes
Total number of lunges to “break in” my legs: 150.
You know the soreness where sitting hurts, standing hurts, laying down hurts, and when you drop something on the floor, the pain just thinking about which muscles will have to pick up the fallen gorgeous scarf? Hamstrings are too tight to bend over, but if I plank then roll over…
Creative ways of mobility and movement were created by sore athletes.
One off day was awarded thanks to my inability to garner any motion from my legs and the next day brought a lengthy bike ride in the twenties.
This bike ride did not come with a fringe flapper dress and jazz hands. This bike ride came with wind burn and numb hands with a wind chill that would make you weep. Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?
While my ears lost their feeling, my hands were colder than a fridge, and my legs were pumping against the wind, visions of a finish line were in my head.
Funny thing about this time of year: the entire population start setting goals for themselves. They want to lose weight, save money, volunteer more, and stress less– or is that just me?
Goals bring out the crazy in people.
Right now countless people are asphyxiating themselves in their respective gyms or planning budgets for the next decade– and I just hope they have an end goal. It is very hard to work towards something if you don’t know what that something is.
My friends can attest that I am “goal-driven” to a tee. The countless conversations of short-term and long-term goals drives them nuts. Yet that is what takes me beyond the brink of physical exhaustion and to the finish line dancing in my head.
And that finish line is calling my name.