Day 27: Good

What a difference a day makes. I woke this morning feeling tired and achy and asking: why am I doing this? And as the day nears its end, I feel a renewed appreciation for the opportunity this challenge affords me: to build stamina. Today was a marathon among days, and never did I lose patience with the kids or say or do anything that I regret. I was very much present and the hours flew by, and I did not feel resentful or frazzled (for the most part) though there were frazzlements aplenty. The kids had their eye appointments this afternoon, a long and drawn out session that involved many complaints and refusals, and then ran an errand, dashed for ice cream, walked home to grab the laundry off the line and get our bikes, biked 2k to swim lessons, entertained children there, biked home with a small and scary crash along the way (my eldest; he's fine, but his bike is a bit damaged), and raced in the door at home in time to catch my daughter's first session on her new drum kit in the basement, and to eat a banana with peanut butter and bike to yoga class. The ninety minutes flew by, and I felt strong and capable, which I haven't been feeling lately in yoga class. And my back is eased somewhat. And I feel the joy of having a body that can stand up to the challenges of four children and a car-free lifestyle (car-free as much as possible, during the summer). It is a joy to be living in this body, able to care for my children, and enjoy my life. Tonight, that is what I see as the main purpose of the challenge, and this journey: to build strength, stamina, and courage for my every day.

Day 25: Beautiful Day

It is a beautiful summer's day. Though I didn't much feel like doing it, I went for a run when I woke up. My husband set the kitchen timer because I said I'd be gone for an hour, no more, and he should come looking for me if I wasn't home by then. Today was the first that I've listened to music, and it helped. There were a few moments, when climbing a hill, that I felt too tired to go on, but the second half of the run was smoother than the first, as if I'd become accustomed to the sound of my breath, and to my pace, and I felt stronger at the end than at the beginning. I ran 10k and included hills and ran often in grass.

There's more that I'd like to write about, but my kids are just now home from an afternoon outing (I've been canning tomatoes all this hot day, while my husband took the kids out).

Day 24: Down

Went for an hour bike ride last night, flying up and down hills near where I go running, and even doing an extra lap in the near-dark. A bit stupid without a bike light (couldn't find mine), but I didn't want the ride to end, chugging along like a perfect engine, leg muscles alternately aching/burning and tingling with relief, lungs strong. My bike is a clunker, a heavy old mountain bike frame and knobby tires meant for off-road, but I've always love hacking off-road, and would do it again in an instant. If my bones were made of iron. What I recognized yesterday was that I am afraid of getting hurt. I used not to be. But there is too much at stake now. If I were to get hurt in a bike accident, my whole family would suffer greatly.

But it's still a lot of fun, even on smooth pavement. I could sense myself holding back as I got going faster and faster.

This morning I set the alarm and expected to get up to go to yoga class, since I felt stiff through the night. But then I just couldn't. Today is a busy day, with evening plans (with husband) and taking all four kids to the dr's office this morning. I couldn't face attempting those things with decreased energy. I always feel energized immediately after rising early and exercising; but the day's total energy is limited. I feel bummed about letting myself down re today's hour or exercise .... maybe a yoga session with the kids later on this morning??

Day 23: What Does It Mean To Be Fit?

Some thoughts, and questions, as I head forward. Last night's yoga class (90 minutes) was tough, but also eased my sore muscles to some degree. I've been icing my back regularly, too, with my husband's help. Today is better. I hope to swim tonight, practice blowing bubbles, kicking with a flutterboard, and possibly swimming a lap or two if my muscles can hack it. 8pm in an outdoor pool, on a cool Canadian August evening!

Question 1: What does it mean to be fit? Is it about being healthy? Having stamina and endurance? Is it a fairly recent cultural construct, or does it have its roots in some deeper pursuit? What has fitness meant in an historical context? What does it mean to me, personally? Am I fit if I can run 9k and do a 90 minutes yoga class on the same day, but don't have the energy to pick up my kids and carry them to bed, or organize a picnic in the park? (No, is my gut response).

Question 2: Do I need a goal in order to exercise daily? In other words, is the goal--this future attempt that I will make--more critical to my motivation than the daily routine of exercise itself? I hope not. I want everything that I am doing to be worthy and worthwhile in and of itself, so that an early morning run is not just a step toward completing a larger goal, but is a peaceful moment in time, a time of quiet reflection, or of solitary thought, or of getting to know the limitations of my body and respecting my body during this brief moment in time (the hour or so that I am running).

It has occurred to me that this pursuit focuses largely on my body ... on its day-to-day capacity, its aches and pains, its limitations and strengths. I am wondering why I feel the urge to focus on my body. Is it vanity? Occasionally, I suspect that it is; but it can't be just that, because I am already pleased and satisfied with the way my body looks. And because so much of what I'm doing in training has the opposite effect: makes me look silly or red-faced or damp or bedraggled or in many ways not in the least attractive. And I don't honestly care.

But I do care about my body. I want to be healthy. I want to be connected to it. I want to understand and have compassion for my body. What I'm figuring out (the hard way) is that my body has intrinsic limitations that have nothing to do with what my mind would have it do or become. My body will protest if pushed too hard, too fast. My body will break down. Having the desire to do something is not the same thing as having the ability to follow through. So. What do I want to do? I want to complete a triathlon. I don't believe it is an unreasonable goal, or an impossible goal. But I can also see that it won't be completed in quite the way I had imagined, by me pushing myself through twice daily work-outs. I will have to work around a daily work-out that responds to where I'm at physically (and mentally). Yesterday, yoga fit perfectly with my body's needs and pain. Today, I hope swimming will feel playful rather than difficult.

A lot of my contentment, my sense of failure or achievement, has to do with whether or not I've met my own expectations. I need to spread my expectations out over a long haul, rather than feeling impatient. I have time. I need to give myself time to grow and figure this out gently and compassionately. I do not know why it is so much harder for me to be compassionate with myself than with others.

Day 22: Reality Bites

Stiff, sore, unable to turn my head without wincing. Instead of waking up early this morning to run/bike/swim/yoga, I slept till after 7 and then lay in bed with an icepack on my upper spine. Guess I overdid it. And I'm beginning to understand that my physical limitations are not entirely to do with my effort and drive: they are intrinsic and a part of me, and fluctuate from day to day, and I need to become more attuned to my body's capacity and ability; it will find ways to protest when I force it to do more than it can manage. My body can't seem to manage two exercise sessions every day, which was my initial plan. One will have to be enough. And I think that it will be, and that I will appreciate the variety from day to day.

Race day is a different day altogether, when one asks the body to work to its extremes. Training days can't be like that.

And I want to be more healthy, not less.

This is what I wrote to a friend yesterday, reflecting on how my mind was perceiving the aches and pains and the necessity of changing my training plan: "Here's a funny thing: I ran 9k this morning, baked a batch of bread, got four loads of laundry on and off the line, wrote an interesting blog post, looked after the kids all day, fed them several homemade meals, directed them toward crafts and creative enterprises at various points in the day, toileted the youngest (an endless chore), arranged several necessary appointments, and still felt a sense of failure for not making it to the 90-minute evening yoga class. I think I have some inner spirit work to work do ..."

Day 21: Aches

Made it 9k this morning, and even managed to meet my friend partway (the timing worked perfectly, which means we very nearly missed each other). I ran for a few minutes shy of an hour. My calves are aching more than usual, which might be a good thing since I'm trying to run on my toes and not hurt my knees; however, my knees were both hurting by the end. And when I finished the run and walked through the door feeling amazing (best feeling ever), that lasted about a minute, and then the muscles between my shoulder blades started yelling. My guess, after consulting my kin husband, is that the back muscles used in swimming are fairly similar to those used in running--or similar enough that a couple of longish swims combined with a longish run equals some serious aches.

This just means that I need to get to yoga class tonight. Have not decided whether to take the longer class or the shorter one, which starts later and gets me to bed a little on the late side. Meantime, I've eaten a banana with peanut butter and plan to eat well at lunch, too. Oh, and a short nap. My kids love when I nap. We call it "quiet time," and it translates as "video games and television."

Day 20: Lake Swimmer

I can swim.

Yes, it's true. I spent the weekend at a cottage on a beautiful lake, and I learned how to swim. My dad was there, and he actually taught me, and he's a good swimmer; it's likely he could have taught me years ago if I had wanted to learn. He took a look at my "front crawl" and said, as kindly as possible, "I don't think you're doing that right." My husband, who also was witness to my early and futile attempts last week has reported that I was thrashing my legs and arms and flailing like crazy. Apparently, I was also arching my back, lifting my head, and turning my entire face to the sky in an attempt to breathe. And all of this motion was wearing me out almost instantly. I could not manage more than a couple of strokes without stopping to pant in exhaustion. I was willing to keep trying, and thought perhaps I could improve my endurance and continue on, but the effort seemed unimaginably difficult.

Turns out, it's easier to swim than I thought. In fact, being relaxed and calm is the first ingredient. Knowing when to breathe--at which point in the stroke--and trusting that you won't be breathing in a lungful of water helps a lot. I'm still no technically skilled swimmer by any stretch of the imagination, but I can climb into cold water in a damp rain (almost too Canadian for me), and crawl by degrees across a stretch of lake from rock to rock, about 200m in length, and then turn around and crawl back again, in deep water, and without fear. I begin my stroke by gliding with my head to the side, to get a sense of how it's supposed to feel, and then I turn my head under the water, blow out air, and begin to swim. When I feel tired, or lose my rhythm, I use the gliding side stroke as a recovery stroke for a few breaths, and then begin again. I have a long long way to go in terms of improving the crawl stroke, and gaining endurance, but it feels entirely possible now, and I am relishing the comfort I feel in water, in a lake specifically. I don't love pools, and have rarely swum in them; that will prove my challenge for this coming fall and winter and spring, as there will be no (unfrozen) lakes available. I hope that lake swimming will translate to lane swimming. I still swim with my eyes closed (one thing at a time). I will need to get comfortable using goggles.

After this success swimming, and the relative ease of it, I wanted to sign up instantly for the last try-a-tri(athlon) of the season, which is in less than two weeks. It would require swimming 350m, biking 10k, and running 2.5k, all of which suddenly sound do-able. Except I've missed the deadline by a hair, and registration is now closed. I do not feel relieved; I feel disappointed. I would have liked to have tried, for the sake of the experience, and to get an instant sense of how very hard (or plausible) this goal of a full triathlon might be. I could still go to the event for the atmosphere. But the triathlon season is closing down; that's it till next summer. I will have to content myself with the runs planned for this fall.

Which means I need to get to bed, so that I can get up and run. I am going to try to run 9k tomorrow morning, and meet up with a friend partway through. Any other friends out there looking to join in the quest?

Day 16: On NOT Always Focusing on the Goal

I am the kind of person who throws myself almost too deeply into projects and goals. If I'm working on a story, I'm gone into it. Just ask my husband. It's like I sink in and you can't get me out. In a sense, it feels like I could do this with the triathlon project, except I can also tell that it won't work for any length of time, and that it would only burn me out. I just enjoyed a beautiful strong yoga class, only 60 minutes, which is shorter than I've gone for months, and it was so worth going. I'm not sure it made me stronger or quicker or gave me endurance, but it stretched out my achy tight running muscles, and even more importantly, it gave me a quiet mind and some peace. I must remember to make room for quietness and for doing things unrelated to the end goal. Which I do all day long, but with some distraction, and I don't want to be distracted from the many other things in life that bring me joy and completion.

A friend sent me a link to Tim Ferriss' talk on learning to swim as a non-swimmer. It had some good tips on body positioning underwater (and the swimmer he shows IS underwater, not riding on the top, which I'll admit gave me the willies. I must begin by getting myself used to being underwater, perhaps even HAPPY underwater). I woke myself up this morning practicing breathing in the water. I tend to take very long controlled breaths in and then out, but in swimming, the breath needs to come in faster than it goes out. And then I got up and went for a run. I used Google Maps to map and measure my daily run, since I generally go around the same paths, and was pleased to discover that I've been running about 8kms. Today I ran nearly 8kms in just over forty minutes, but it was a harder go this morning, and I felt sluggish, not weightless and filled with enthusiasm.

My next running goal is to add an additional kilometre, and work up to 10 by perhaps the week after that, and then add some difficulty with hills and sprints. My plan is to run about 10km for the morning runs, unless I end up improving my pace, and then I'll add on as needed, shooting for approximately an hour of running. On weekends, I may take the opportunity of more available time to go for a long bike ride or a longer run.

Swimming is going to be my main focus this fall, and I hope to swim three times a week. I'm heading out tomorrow early with two friends, swimmers who can watch me flail around in the pool and give me some more tips. One friend would like to join in the try-a-tri quest, which pleases me to no end.

I have talked to my agent as well, and she suggests writing this project as a magazine article or articles, or possibly a blog; she thought that would potentially pay better than a book, though she didn't completely rule out the possibility of a book. But I need to complete the project before pitching the book. After all, if I don't finish a triathlon, the story loses some verve.

My focus right now is the 8km trail run, which will be more difficult than my usual daily run, even though it's the same length, because I run on a very flat and easy path. I remain excited about the challenge, and the immediacy of the challenge.

Day 15: I Don't Know How to Swim

I've always jokingly said that I don't know how to swim. I can keep myself afloat and tread water and can paddle around without fear in deep water. But I just went for my first real swim of this project, and it turns out that it's not at all a joke: I really don't know how to swim.

Swim lessons were not a priority for my parents. My dad taught us some strokes when we would swim in the ocean. There were no indoor pools in the small town where I grew up, and we would swim in the local pool during the summer--which is where I had my only week of swim lessons, at about age seven or eight. I did not pass. Nevertheless, I always felt comfortable in the water and enjoyed fooling around, playing, diving, turning somersaults, swimming like a dolphin under the water.

This morning, just after 7am, I tried to swim. And I realized that short bursts of activity in the water have very little to do with the act of swimming. I also discovered that my limited technical knowledge is completely wrong. And this morning I learned so much--so much that is new!--that it's hard to take it all in and encorporate it.

My goal is to learn the crawl stroke. For this project, I've been relying on help from talented friends. My good friend M, who used to swim competetively, agreed to join me at the pool and give me some tips, without asking any questions (because I'm still not publicly talking about this triathlon idea)--we biked over together early this morning. M is no bullshit, but very very kind (what better teacher could I ask for?). She had me show her my strokes. I can do about eight strokes of the crawl before stopping with a panicked feeling that I am drowning. So, we started with a flutterboard and worked on keeping the face in the water, and then on keeping my face in the water and breathing to the side. Then on the arm positioning, then on the kick. Sometimes with flutterboard, sometimes just me flailing along in the pool, which thank God is shallow, so I could stop and rest. The pool length is 50m. I can't swim a third of it without stopping, and a full length has me breathing heavily and worn out.

And I thought I was relatively fit.

I know this is going to be much harder than anticipated. My goal now is to swim a length without stopping. I need to work on my breathing, my head position while breathing, my gliding, staying on top of the water (planing), using my core strength. My kick needs work too. I could easily pass an hour working on all of these elements. But whether or not I would improve greatly, I just do not know; nor do I know how often I would need to be in the pool practicing these elements before I would learn them well. M thinks I need to get comfortable having my head under the water, and the rest will fall into place. That will simply take time. I am so envious of my children and their familiarity with the pool. This one lesson has also given me enormous sympathy for their struggles and frustrations, my eldest son particularly, who looks ... well, who looks a lot like me when he swims, head bobbing up frantically trying to breathe, stopping in the middle of the pool to stand and rest.

Kid, I get it.

Strangely, I don't feel discouraged. I feel humbled, but not discouraged. And I am immensely glad that I started this project. I've always wished I could swim, but have never done anything to improve my skills. Why not? Why does it take an invented project to kick me into the pool, into doing something I've always wished I could do? That thought makes me a bit sad. What else am I not doing, where are other points of inertia in my life?

:::

My husband works in the rehab industry, and is very interested in the concepts of tolerance and endurance. He says there is no real way to measure endurance and tolerance, because both are different from person to person, and are dependent on outside rewards. For example, if you've been injured on the job and are in rehab recovering, and you are performing a test meant to measure endurance, two people with the same injury will perform differently depending on whether or not they liked their job. If you love your job, you can tolerate more pain and endure longer. You are motivated. If you secretly always wanted to leave your job, your pain tolerance and ability to endure drop.

How much of what we are able to do, these goals we set for ourselves, has to do with reward? I don't mean monetary or even other obvious rewards, but those ephemeral rewards that are personal, quiet within us, perhaps even unknown to us. You could work hard in a job you didn't love if you thought about your family relying on you to continue. You could rewrite a story tens of times over if you felt you must get it just right. You could do these things without any real external or obvious reward--without getting a raise, or without being published--simply because they are connected to something inside of you that matters. Maybe it's the spirit. Maybe what you're doing is feeding the spirit, and that always feels good, even when it's hard or unpleasant or unworldly.

What is my goal? Just to complete a triathlon? I feel it must be something deeper than that, something I can't put into words, and haven't ever expressed out loud. I want to test my limits (like, for example, the limits of my humility; it was a bit embarrassing, if I thought about it too much, gasping my way through the water, clearly an unskilled novice, for all to see; it is hard for me to admit out loud: I don't know how to do this, or, I'm not very good at this, or, even, can you help me out, please? Being able to go to these places has taken years of experience, and I credit particularly focussing on the rearing of my children, a very humbling occupation). I want to dig deep inside of myself. I want to do something hard, but not impossible. I want to see what my body is capable of. I am thirty-five years old, and I don't know how to swim, and I'm going to learn, and I'm going to swim 1500 metres in a race. (Exhale). It isn't easy to say that, not knowing whether or not I can do it. I am not filled with bravado. But if I don't say it, if I don't believe that it's possible, the only certainty is that it will always be impossible, it will always be out of reach.

Day 14: Post-Yoga

Quick note on tonight's 90 minute yoga class, which was downright brutal. I wasn't sure I could stick it out through shavasana. I had to rest for a large portion of the second half, due to extremely uncomfortable tingling and woozy sensations, and plain and simple exhaustion. I think the hour run plus the hour and a half heated work-out was just too much for my body, this early in training. But it was humbling, and humbling is good. It also didn't deter me from wanting to continue. I need to figure out how to better feed and fuel my body. It felt like I ran out of gas halfway through the class. I haven't had supper yet (it's 9pm) and usually don't eat more than a banana before going to the 6pm class. But I also didn't eat enough throughout the day, and wonder whether I should use lunchtime as my main meal, and stock up on calories then.

Tomorrow, I'm doing something I never thought I would do: I'm going to an outdoor pool at 7am to swim with a friend for an hour. Yowza but I loathe cold water. I really can't believe I'm going to do it. I hope the peer pressure will force me to do it. We're going to meet and bike over. I'll get to sleep in a little bit later than this morning, and will get home later, too. My friend is a very very good swimmer, and says she can give me tips on how to improve my stroke. Apparently, I should wear goggles for starters. Will report back later.

Am wondering whether it's a good idea to run every day, or whether I should be alternating days.

Day 14: Early Morning Run

Forgot how amazing it feels to wake up early and exercise. This is the high that makes me want to go on. It is exciting to run while thinking about a goal. So far, I think this project is about commitment. But I hadn't appreciated how important a goal is when making a commitment. Like the goal of marriage--staying married, till death do us part, through sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I can almost understand why my mother wanted to stay married just because. On the other hand, I'm a firm believer in being careful what you commit to. It is possible to ruin one's life by committing to quite the wrong goal. No "just because" here, in this project.

I ran from 6-7, give or take five minutes. I ran by myself, then met up with a friend midway through. I've told her about the project, and she'd like to be my running partner several mornings a week; the catch is that she has to run early, from 6-7. My schedule would allow me to run slightly later (and sleep in longer), from 7-8 instead. But then I would miss this hour, this quiet preparatory hour between exercise and the start of the day's hustle and bustle, hurry and scurry, especially when school starts up again.

I've never stuck with running for very long. Will having a major goal change this? I hope so. I felt fit and capable this morning, strong. I didn't run particularly fast, however. I am glad that I'm not starting from scratch, but have built up a reasonable fitness level having done hot yoga regularly for going on eight months now.

Yesterday evening, we went for a family bike ride to a special spot we know along the creek. As I hauled about 100 lbs of children and picnic, into a nice strong head-wind, uphill, I thought, hey, this might just get me into shape, even at a kids' pace. I couldn't have gone much faster if I'd tried; I was already trying. It was a blissful time together, despite bees and wading children getting soaked. It was just bliss, to be together, to be outside, to be active together.

However, an observation: during the bike ride, and immediately after, as I catch my breath and struggle through a physical activity, I am not a pleasant person. I tend toward barking out orders and commands, and I come down way too hard on others. I don't like what it brings out in me--what is "it" exactly? I was working hard and breathing hard and exerting myself hard, and I had nothing extra in the way of kindness or compassion. I was too focussed on getting through myself. Luckily, I have a quick recovery time, physically, and that means a quick recovery time mentally too. But meantime, I've been a yeller. Hate that.

::::

Here are some answers to yesterday's questions. An Olympic triathlon consists of a 1.5 km swim, a 40 km bike ride, and a 10 km run.

I found adult swim lessons that should suit my level, and will sign up for the fall session as soon as registration opens. I also plan to try out a lane swim as early as tomorrow morning, though that's in an outdoor pool and will be bleeping cold.

My cyclist friend tells me that the bike's fit is the most important element of a good ride. He also says we have many good trails to ride in this area, so I can avoid roads and cars. And that riding a stationary bike in the basement will be soul-sucking, and also doesn't quite equal the same core strength and balance built up when riding a moving bicycle. He recommends looking at cyclocross bikes, and has a contact for used bikes.

On another and related note, I am beginning to see that I will have to spend some money on this project. I will keep my receipts, as I consider this a writing project.

My running friend has advised me to set the goal for my first race as: finish it! I agree. And I've signed up for an 8k trail run on Sept. 9th. There are two more big locals races in October which I also plan to sign up for, both 10k runs. This will give me a chance to test my mental strength (and weakness) and work on competing in a group setting. If competing is the word I'm looking for.

But my knees. They were already hurting on this run, as they usually do when I run. I tried leaning forward and thinking about landing on my toes, but it was hard in the running shoes. I am extremely tempted to invest in a pair of Vibram barefoot shoes (and the little sockies that go with them). Apparently, I'm more into the gear than I thought I would be. But I need to train without injuring myself, which would prevent further training.

I discovered that Canada has one Ironman triathlon. I can't remember off-hand the exact mileage for that one, but it's wild, ends with a marathon. It's run every year at the end of August in Penticton, B.C. I'm seriously thinking of setting that as my end goal. I would also like to run a marathon as a test race, and am considering the Ottawa Marathon, which also has a half-marathon, and family runs as part of a running weekend, every May.

So there. Goals, and enthusiasm.

My biggest fear this morning? That I will like this so much that I won't want to stop. I don't want any one thing to overtake my life. I am a believer in balance. My friend reassured me on this point this morning: your kids will keep you balanced.

She's right. And why be afraid of doing something that brings such joy and energy? This is the high. I'm going to enjoy it. But I promise to record the lows, too.

Day 13: Post-Holiday To-Do List

We went on holiday for a week, and are home again. While on holiday I did not read books on training for a triathlon. I did not run every day; or even once. I did find a hot yoga studio in the nearest city and took class, and it was fairly brutal, a different style from the hot yoga that I practice. It felt like being with a drill sergeant: the instructor stood on a stool at the front of the class and talked non-stop, barking out orders. I was worn out by the end (90 minutes) and found myself having to use calming methods to get myself through: I had chosen to focus on the word "holiday" during the class, and I kept spelling it out over and over, slowly, imagining writing and connecting the letters in capitals and lower-case. (Letters calm me). At one point I thought to myself: this is only a fraction of how hard it will be to complete at triathlon. Not only will I be tested physically, but I won't have a drill sergeant there to force me onwards, which was genuinely helpful. Though I didn't much like the teacher, I did find it useful to hear him say, "At this point in class it's best not to think and just to follow my instructions." I may need that during a race. Can I be my own drill sergeant?

My goal for the holiday was to do one physical activity each day, which I essentially accomplished, if on a very small scale. On afternoon, I practiced swimming with the kids in the catchment basin at Jones' Falls locks, a beautiful deep stone-walled pool. What I discovered is that I can swim--my dad taught me some strokes when I was a kid--but that I dislike strongly having my face in the water. So, I can swim the backstroke quite easily, and my breast stroke is reasonable, though I suspect my whip kick is assymetrical. But as soon as I put my face in the water to do the crawl stroke, things fell apart. There were so many elements to remember, and I could manage perhaps two breaths underwater before panicking and coming up for air--it didn't help that I kept breathing in my long loose wet hair; I also couldn't turn well to the one side. I looked just like my kids look in their swim lessons, pausing to lift their heads straight out of the water and gasp for air--except that my daughter, who is 7 and a half, actually looks way better than me.

I got tips for the two older kids, who have had swim lessons since they were three and four. I was glad to realize that I know more than I thought I did (I'm not a non-swimmer, exactly), but can see that it will take a great deal more work to get me swimming at an even vaguely competitive level. I have a good friend who was a competitive swimmer as a child, so I may start by asking her for advice and help. And I may try a private lesson, too. I think I will attempt to swim once a week, laps, lane-swimming, the crawl stroke (once I've made sure I'm swimming it technically correctly), with goggles and hair tied back. On the to-do list for today: email friend, and look up adult swim lessons,and lane swim times.

We also went for a few hikes, but those were not in the least bit taxing. However, we enjoyed it so much that we would like to make it a weekend ritual--to hike sections of the Bruce Trail with our kids. One of our goals, as parents, is to seamlessly weave outdoor and physical activity into our kids' lives, and our own; however, I find as an active person that doing things at a kid's pace is not enough of a physical challenge to keep me feeling super-fit. For example, we bicycle a lot together. I do haul the two younger kids in the bike stroller, which adds resistance, but I know it's nothing compared to the training that I need to do for a triathlon.

Which leads me to this question, and confession of complete ignorance: how far will I need to swim/cycle/run on a triathlon? Also on my to-do list.

Upon returning home, I contacted a running friend, who competes, to find out whether I could still sign up for a trail race in October. I want to test out my mental strength in a race situation. I suspect that my competitiveness is going to hamper me in a race. It will be difficult to stay within my own limits if my expectations change during a race, from simply completing it (which is really as high an expectation as I should have, especially in the first race), to performing above expectation (which I really need to drop as a goal, till I've tested myself out a bit; who am I kidding??? Talk about an inflated sense of self). Unfortunately, my friend told me that the race was already full; but she suggested trying out one of the road races that go every fall (in fact, they pass right in front of our house; we watch them go by every year). There is a 10k and a 5k, and she plans to run in both. I think that will be a good beginning. Add that to the to-do list.

Cycling. I bicycle a lot, as mentioned, just not very quickly or very far. I am concerned about safety when cycling. I am not comfortable cycling on the road with cars. In car versus bike, car wins every time, and I'm not willing to risk my life on the roads. (I keep remembering the boy in my high school class who died while bicycling, age 15, hit by a truck; and about other road accidents; I don't believe, philosophically, that cars and bikes are meant to share space). Kevin has a friend who cycles competitively, so also on today's to-do list is contacting him for advice on cycling training and equipment. I may look into spin classes, or even cycling in the basement (kijiji for used exercise equipment?). And I need to visit the bicycle shop and find a map of local trails; and change my handlebars.

My goal for today is to figure out a training schedule. This must fit in with the larger family schedule. I will have to get my head around training during writing time, and not thinking of that as a waste of time. Up till now, I've used all babysitting time for writing--and that's been my habit for nine years now--so it may be difficult to change that mind-set. Is it worth it to me to pay for babysitting if I am not working on my chosen vocation during that time?

Which leads me to my final thought for the day. How can I connect this venture to my writing career? Can I write entertainingly and thoughtfullly about training for a triathlon? It feels right now that it is too much about lists of things to do, and not enough about emotions or discoveries or real information presented in an interesting fashion. I am relieved that I decided to keep this blog private, just for me. It gives me more freedom while I explore possibilities.

Last fall, I did something different: I took a university class, with the thought that I might go back to school to pursue a career in midwifery. That class did not lead me in the anticipated direction; though I enjoyed doing something different, and being in school again--a place where I naturally excel--what it showed me (and my family) was not that I wanted to pursue another degree, but that I could take time to pursue something on my own. That may not sound like a huge revelation, but for almost a decade I've been doing nothing but caring for kids, looking after our home, and writing during snatched babysitting hours; and it was a revelation. When class ended in December, I decided to continue taking one evening for myself, and chose to try hot yoga. That blossomed into several evenings (or early mornings) each week, and I discovered my body had changed in the process, and my mind, too. I remembered what it felt like to be strong--stronger perhaps than I've ever been in my life.

I want to test my limits. I want to push against them. I want to see what my body is capable of--and my mind. I am at a cross-roads in my life. Do I continue being a writer, or do I search for a different direction and career? My deadline (invented but not arbitrary) is two years from September, when my youngest child will begin school. Will I know then what I want to do? To be?

The options I am currently imagining for myself include: writer (fiction, but perhaps also non-fiction/memoir/magazine/blog); doula; midwife (four years of school); photographer (technical skills needed); musician (see previous entry); and ... ??

I will miss working with children. I feel so comfortable with them. I sense their comfort with me, a mutual trust and respect. That is something to think about, too.

Is there some way to structure a writing career around learning and doing new things, and then returning home and hacking out a book on the subject? I think I would deeply enjoy that. I have an abiding curiosity. There must be some way to harness and make use of my creative interests. I also have a strong work ethic, and an ability to see projects through; and I try very hard not to commit to anything that I can't complete.

Maybe I should put "talk to my agent" on this to-do list.

Day 2: Questions

I don't like gear. Will this be a problem? I am not that interested in which shoes work best for triathletes, which spandex outfits, which bicycles. I am currently riding my husband's old mountain bike hooked up to our bike stroller, pulling two kids behind.

I am wondering where to practice biking. I would need to know how to bike on the road, right? I am concerned about safety. Will I end up biking indoors, at a gym? I prefer the outdoors. I love cycling off-road, on trails.

I should look into triathlons. I know there are many of different lengths and distances and perhaps even styles--off-road, for example? I should find one to aim toward.

Should I try running shorter races before then?

Should I check books out from the library before we head off on holiday? How will I start training at the cottage? I am afraid of dogs when running rurally.

Feeding and fuelling my body. I already find that it's a difficult equilibrium to find while doing hot yoga. Have I eaten enough? Too much, too close to exercising? Not enough, or too long before exercising? Am I hydrated? Too hydrated and need to pee? I can't imagine myself becoming interested in things like fake foods, bars, etc., to nourish myself. I am a pretty simple person. I like to eat food. Homemade, local, simple food.

My husband wonders whether I will stop having a beer with him at night. I hope not. But one never knows. I would like to stay balanced. Is it possible to train at a higher level, with greater expectations, and stay balanced in terms of eating, social life, parenting, writing? I also don't want to spend much money on this. I want to use what I've already got, and get better.

Day One: The Idea

Tonight in yoga class I felt strong, fit, stable. It was a wonderful feeling, a feeling of digging deep inside my body and working with it, in a very submerged fashion. No worries, no thinking about being somewhere else; my focus for the class was "patience."

Afterward, in the shower, I thought, I'd like to be in the Olympics. But I'm thirty-five years old. Is it too late? Um, yes, endorphins, it is. But then I thought, okay, it's too late to be in the Olympics, but it isn't too late to train my body to do something it's never done before ... like becoming a triathlete. The thought jumped ahead: and it's not too late to write another book, a completely different book from the ones I usually write. This one won't be made up. It won't resemble fiction at all. I'll write about this--this exact idea, and about how I go about doing it. I'll stop saying that I'd like to run a triathlon, and I'll just go ahead and do it. I'll do it and I'll write about the process.

Some little time later, getting dressed, drying my hair with a towel in front of the mirror, I think, this is one of those things that you'd never do if you knew how hard it was going to be.

I am thirty-five, relatively fit and active, but I've never run a race longer than a mile. That was twenty-eight years ago. Another obstacle: I can't swim. I took one week of swim lessons. And failed. That was twenty-seven years ago. My kids swim better than me: I've forced them into the pool in all seasons and against a good deal of grumbling because goshdarnit they are going to know how to swim.

Is it too late for me to learn? Can I swallow my pride and hop into the water and take adult swim lessons? Swim laps, learn to turn my hand the right way, breathe to the side, kick the proper kick?

What else do I need to learn to do in order to complete a triathlon? I know how to run, but my feet get hot after an hour's worth. Do I need to look into special equipment, a special diet, training regimens? Where will I begin? Alone?

I pack up my little idea to take home to my husband. What if ... I write a book about a mother of four who decides to complete a triathlon (okay, I'd really like to write a book about a mother of four who achieves her goal of becoming an Olympic triathlete, but my previous athletic achievements lead me to believe I'd be over-reaching. Somewhat.)

It isn't the only idea that comes to me, as I walk home. I think: I could write a book about anything, but it has to be something that matters to me, something that I care about. Do I care enough about this? Do I have the courage that it might take? Might. Ha.

Sitting down before the computer to brainstorm and write, I can think of nothing but obstacles. The idea sounds ridiculous. I might as well be typing out a bit of fiction.

I check amazon for books on the subject. No memoirs by mothers of four training to be triathletes in the crazy-project-I-did-last-year vein. Lots of books on how-to. I like the one that promises you can train for a triathlon in just four hours a week.

Time. That might prove the biggest obstacle of all. My youngest child is two. What's he going to do while I'm at swim lessons? Am I going to send him to daycare in order to train for a race that I really don't need to run? I imagine getting to the end of the story. I imagine discovering something new and amazing, experiencing pain and suffering (self-inflicted) and arriving at an emotionally salient insight. A big one. Significant. Uh oh. What if the insight is: go back to looking after your family, you ridiculously selfish woman? You were riding a bicycle while your two-year-old turned into a three-year-old, and you missed experiences that cannot be replaced or found again.

I don't know.

My husband thinks it's an awesome idea. Maybe he'd like to join me, and do it too.

Where to begin? Where to begin? I haven't got the faintest idea. I guess I'll begin here.