Day 221: Checking In

I'm tired this week. Don't know why. I think it's a mental weariness as much as a physical weariness. I'm doing generally the same things I did last week, but I feel less pep, less vim and vigour. My husband had to convince me to go to yoga on Sunday morning. He'd just been to the previous class, and knew it would do me good to go, but I had this overwhelming feeling of, wah! I don't wanna!

I went. It was good.

I'm glad for the other people in my life who are doing this with me. Otherwise, it might prove impossible. I've heard it said that anyone can do a triathlon, or even an Ironman. I actually get that, the more training I do. It's all about the training, not about the talent, if you know what I mean. Basically, every able-bodied adult has the skills to swim, bike, and run; most of our kids have these skills by age seven or eight. Training to gain endurance in these skills is therefore largely a matter of will. In that sense, it's a very accessible goal. (Ironman is not my goal, by the way, nor has it ever been; and the further I get into training for an Olympic-length triathlon, the less appealing training for an Ironman becomes.)

I'm wrestling with the idea of whether or not it ever becomes easy--to go for a long run, or even a short run. To stretch my way through a long yoga class. To swim lengths for an hour. To take a spin class. I don't think easy is ever what it becomes. It becomes do-able. It becomes something that you know your body can manage and handle, even if you're feeling a bit tired or off.

This morning, I did not feel peppy on my run. Thankfully, I was meeting a friend. She only went half-way with me, but that was enough, because it got me into my running clothes and out the door. And as I continued on my run without her--having time to think about what my body was feeling, in the absence of distracting conversation--I thought about how this remains a hard thing to do. To run. To push oneself up and down hills. To labour in the cold, pre-dawn hour, alone. I never felt great this morning, never felt fleet or loose or strong; but I felt confident. I think that's the difference. Training has given me confidence. I know that I can go the distance, even if I'm not feeling fabulous. I ran 7.5km, not with any great speed, but knowing I could go further, if needed. That it was okay not to feel fabulous.

I had a similar experience in last evening's yoga class. It was extremely hot and humid, more than usual, and the 90-minutes felt long. At one point in the second half, I chose to rest rather than do several poses. I never choose that. Never is not an exaggeration. It was such a good choice. I stretched out my shoulders and found a sense of calm, and joined in again when I was ready. I paced myself.

Aha! Pacing myself! Maybe I need to do a bit of that right now, during this training process. Figure out how to pace myself just a wee bit. I'm thinking of doing slightly less next week, on March Break, when the kids are all home from school. Not taking a full holiday, but perhaps doing one less early morning, one less swim. And letting my body breathe and relax and prepare. It's a long road.