Shots! - A Perspective Piece

This is a short perspective piece. Or it's a short piece on perspective.

You see what I did there?

This morning, while giving myself my weekly B12 injection, (I may have missed it last week. Oops.) I started thinking about all the people who get B12 injections for their purported health benefits. This is not a debate or discussion about what the benefits are.  It's just an example to illustrate how 

I think I'll try those B12 shots to lose some weight and gain energy!

Sounds and feels totally different than

I'm so deficient that I have to give myself injections every week!

Or

Shots! Shots, shots, shots shots shots

Shots! Shots, shots, shots shots 

Shots! Shots, shots, shots shots

Everybody! 

- LMFAO+Lil Jon

You get the point.  There are probably 5 different ways to approach this.

Saturday is the first tri of the season, and although I'm aiming for some specific goals, a wicked chest cold stopped me from training much last week and a violent migraine slowed me this week.   Texting about this with a friend, I realized that I use the expressions "the good news is" and "on the plus side" so much that my phone has memorized them. So

The good news is

I've done this a few times.  (Next year will be 10 years running and 2017 will be 10 years tri-ing). My first tri, also on this same beach, was when I was SUPER under-trained, a LOT heavier, and a ton sicker.

On the plus side

I may not go out there and blow anyone away, but I'm going to get some valuable racing experience to add to my list. I've learned that how "well" you do in a race is relative to the conditions (other competitors, your health, the weather.)

Funny how racing is a lot like life.

Funny how the same sets of words can have depending on the context.

Or maybe not funny. Depending on your perspective.

Display all your weakness, so that in your weakness you are made strong, and your bitterness is replaced with grace.

"Display all your weakness, so that in your weakness you are made strong, and your bitterness is replaced with grace." Live Free (@LiveFree100)

5 days till race day, and this pops up in my feed.  As much as I've espoused the evils of social media, I gots to admit: I find a good use for it at times. 

This is one of them.

I don't know if you've ever heard of Rajesh Durbal, but he is such an inspiration to me.   He swims at my Y, and when I was a regular I used to see him at the pool. He is a beautiful person. His smile lights up a room. He's a super-fit athlete.

He is a triple amputee.

Like my hero Kristin McQueen, who has survived multiple brain surgeries and cancer and all kinds of crazy complications, he knows his share of physical, mental, and emotional grief. Whenever I feel a little sadness coming on, I try to think of the two of them.

These individuals have struggled with true losses in life, have overcome true adversity and despair. Not just the normal "hard things" we all go through - like divorces, stress fractures, headaches, repossessions and bankruptcies and custody battles - which are all hard, of course - but these two deal with all of that normal "hard stuff" PLUS being physically limited, and mentally restrained because of it.

Yet they're out there.  Every day. Training. Being fit. Loving life.  Raj is very vocal about his life, and his struggles. This is his way of fighting/giving back.

I have made no bones about the fact that I have many weaknesses. There are many things I'd like to do better, about many things in life I'd like to handle better. (See my 40 Good Things post: I'm socially awkward sometimes and I'd like to be a little less self-deprecating with my humor.)  And it is no secret that I've gone through some of the worst things I ever imagined, and spent a lot of time being rather bitter about them.

Raj's post tonight resonated with me because I've had those moments of bitterness. I read his post tonight and it affirmed, more than ever, that I have so far to go. But it also reminded me of how much good is left in the human spirit, and truthfully, that's something I need a reminder of from time to time.

This blog is as much spiritual as it is physical. Sure, there's ego. There's I wants me a PR, dammit! and there's I don't wants no injuries! But there's also life lessons learned through training and racing.

I was talking to my dad tonight about race day weather, and how one of those life lessons is that things aren't always going to go your way. The rain may come. The money may run out. Someone you trusted may deceive you.

What stays the same? Out of all those horrible, difficult things - what remains intact?

Just like on race day? The way you react to them.

That's what Raj meant. He is not out there belittling himself, or talking about how bad life is. Instead, he is sharing with people how beautiful things can be, no matter how difficult they are.

I have a long way to go - that's true. And, if I've displayed my weaknesses, I can only hope that they will make me stronger, and my bitterness will be replaced with grace.

And now, in case I got too serious fo' yo' ass, here's some Grumpy Cat holiday greetings.  This is his real face.  Check him out on Tumblr, etc (Tard the Grumpy Cat).

Ho, ho, ho.

Wide Open Spaces

This weekend, we had a brush with some nasty weather.  A storm system created a rash of tornadoes in Alabama and the Carolinas – not  anywhere as devastating as last year’s around the University of Alabama, but still pretty bad.  The system hit us late Saturday night and the Sunday morning rides were all postponed or cancelled.  I took a recovery week and rode 25 miles at 3pm instead of 70 at 7am.  The wind was awful  - 15 to 25 miles per hour – but we made it happen.

I was talking with some friends from colder states who both reminded me that they’ve just now been able to put away some of their cold weather gear, and I realized how lucky I have it here in Florida. Maybe 2 or 3 days were really cold (30’s), but we rode in those.  Maybe a few days a month we had really bad wind, but we rode in those.  It never gets icy, or so cold that it’s unsafe to go out.

This lent me new perspective. 

There are many times when things happen that get me down.  It is easy to sit and wallow in self-pity and feel disgruntled, even though I've made good progress on the road back to being my old sunshiney, peppy self.  A while back,  I made a promise to bring myself back into the current moment whenever I felt this way, to try to ask myself if worrying or freaking out about something would really matter in 1, 5, or 10 years – or to remind myself to just be grateful and find something - anything at all - that was positive just by being in the current moment instead of trying to anticipate the next.  For example:instead of feeling bummed about a windy day, I try to be happy that it’s not icy, or so cold it’s unsafe to go out.

1, 5, and 10 - my reminder at my home office

Basically, I try to not be a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

I will tell you this: I am not always successful.  I still have days when I get “stuck,” I feel hopeless, I cry, I complain.   And then I find someone to slap the shit out of me help me gain perspective on things.  I got a reminder today that things in our life – “things,” like money and possessions – come and go, and they sometimes leave empty spaces.  

And I kinda let myself act like a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

After a couple key individuals provided me with my requisite bitchslap perspective check, I thought about how lucky I still am, and how I could still make things work.  I thought about how yoga is about creating space – space that you can then fill with better, more positive, more awesome things.

I've got some wide open spaces coming up.  Instead of feeling empty,  I'm going to fill them with AWESOME.

New adventures await.  I can't wait to tell you about what's going on in my iMAJination. You see what I did there?


And with that, I give you The Week in Song Lyrics.  I am not normally a country OR Dixie Chicks fan, but this one . . .  just.  FITS.

Wide Open Spaces - Dixie Chicks

She travelled this road as a child
Wide-eyed and grinning, she never tired
But now she won't be coming back with the rest
If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test

She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

Late Christmas Gifts and Lessons to Learn

I received a late Christmas present this weekend: a few extra pounds.



Most recent pic of me (middle)
On New Year's Eve

This wouldn't be so embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that many fellow bloggers are far superior athletes than I, and it's pretty well-known information that diet is a giant factor in both weight loss and performance, so clearly many of you are better dieters, too.  Also, we all know I am already not a skinny triathlete.  (Hell, most people still can't believe I swim, bike and run.)  See photos.  Very much not athlete-looking.

Anyway.

It is also embarrassing because I don't usually gain any weight during the holidays (it's either minimal or I lose), but I tacked on almost 5 pounds this season. According to USA Today and several other sources, the average American puts on about a pound during the holidays.  I work out 5-6 hours a week on a REST week.  How can I freakin' gain FIVE TIMES the average?


Winning 2nd Athena Overall
at Baldwin Park in June '11
(now I'm just about too light to race Athena)
(I hope)

Yes, I have no thyroid, but you can't completely blame that since I take thyroid hormone.  That probably only handicaps me about 10% more than the average person.  No, this was a combination of adding candy, drinks, and treats (never much of a sugar person) to my normally 90% healthy, whole-er, less-processed foods, limited-booze diet, reducing my training volume, and then - the piece de resistance - having to take almost an entire week off last week for an upper respiratory bug.

Yuck.

So.  About this week off.  Saturday rolls around, I have a group ride scheduled on Sunday to train for the 2012 Tour de Mom, and I decide I'm feeling good enough to try a relaxed group ride.

Although I adore running on good days, I hate it on bad days.  Swimming (at least in a pool) has earned a similarly ambivalent place in my life.  But there has never been a time when a ride has not made me feel better. 
No matter how thy-low I felt, no matter how ill, on days when runs would trash my legs and self-efficacy or swimming would aggravate my balance disorders, on days when weight training just made me feel wimpy, riding always made me feel better. The only other thing this (or more) therapeutic for me is yoga.  In fact, I've often said there really is no such thing as a "bad ride."
That changed this weekend.


Even when I feel fat, riding
usually makes me feel better

Friday night through Saturday morning I rolled out of bed nearly every hour to use the restroom and cough my brains out, each time feeling more miserable from the lack of sleep brought on by recovering from a cold, and from some other mysterious yuckiness.  The final time I did this only to realize that I had less than 15 minutes to get on my way to my ride.  I threw my cold weather gear on and rolled out in time for the 40-ish degree ride anyway.

The problems with this were manifold:

1. I had gotten less than 5 hours of real sleep
2. I felt dizzy as hell
3. I was still congested
4. My head hurt
5. I had no time for enough coffee or a real breakfast
6. My stomach was vaguely queasy
7. I forgot to take my thyroid medicine (this NEVER happens)

So the ride ended with me feeling nauseous, sniffling, coughing, and getting dropped 10 miles in.  And when I say "dropped" I don't mean "dropped back a little," I mean left completely behind.  So bad that I don't even think anyone realized I was gone.  (Normally this would hurt my feelings quite a bit, as I had some friends on the ride, but I felt too shiteous to care.)

I finally got home from getting my car, took a hot shower and sat down under a warm blanket in some fuzzy PJ pants.

The problems with this were also manifold:

1. I was supposed to do research all day - now I would have to do it all Sunday, and I was already behind from being sick AND already had plans for Sunday
2. I was supposed to go to a party that night
3. The B couldn't come get me, because his car doesn't have a bike rack, and my keys were with me while my car was at the bike shop
4. I haven't been dropped like this in 5-6 years

Normally getting dropped from a ride would also really hurt my ego, but all this did was make me feel bad physically.  The B had to help me get out of my toe coves, shoes, and gloves.  (He then made me some tomato soup and a grilled cheese, which was nice of him.)

But, after I started to feel a little better, I started to realize . . . they can't all be winners.

I talk a lot about the lessons I've learned from training and from cancer, but there is a big lesson here that I still haven't learned: when to quit.  I guess I thought (foolishly) that I could just keep pedaling through anything.  And, because I have become conditioned to not feeling great most of the time, I've pretty much trained through all kinds of shitty physical stuff.  So I don't really recognize the difference between time to just push through it and time to back off.  There is a difference between pushing your physical limits and making yourself sick.

The good news is this: I went out there and tried.  I didn't make it more than 14 miles, but I didn't lay in bed feeling sorry for myself.  Now I just have to figure out when it is more appropriate to do that instead.

Now, since I've had 2 full nights of sleep and MORE rest from training, my congestion seems gone, and I have the inspiration, I'm going to get my ass in gear and try to go for a little run.  Because, while it is up to me take care of me, this 5 pounds (plus the other 15 or 20 I'd like to shed) and this 70.3 (and these cycling races) are not going to take care of themselves.

10 New Things Training/Racing/Triathlon Have Taught Me About Life

1.       You look amazing in street clothes after months of seeing yourself covered in sweat, wearing spandex and no makeup.

Self-explanatory.

2.       It’s not about the result or the destination; it’s about the journey.

Races, and any other goals in life, don’t just appear one day.  They happen after days and months of effort.  Luckily, it is the days and months during which you give the effort that often give you the most satisfaction – especially when you look back on race day and acknowledge how you “got there.”

3.       If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  And, on that note, if something really is worthwhile to you, you will go to great lengths to make it happen.

 Because of my various medical issues, I often feel terrible after 8pm or 9pm on the weekdays, but it is usually the only time I have to plan for my next day.  I have to force myself, through terrible fatigue, to tune up my bike, set up my breakfast, pack my clothes, etc., so I’ll be ready to work out in the morning and sleep an extra 15 minutes. But when I started doing this regularly, I started my day feeling a lot calmer and more prepared, and that carried over into my daily life.  I continue to plan like I always did, but now I try to do a lot of legwork in advance of big days.

4.       The people with whom you surround yourself will often make or break you.

Attitudes are contagious.  I worked out alone for years because groups I joined were very unfriendly to the less-than-elite.  Once I started working out with friendly groups, I got faster and stronger.  Were they that much better as athletes?  Some of them – but mostly it was because the positive environment fostered personal growth.  Training buddies (the right ones, anyway) can do wonders for your self-esteem!  The same goes with friends in other parts of your life.

5.       Do not be afraid to do things differently if they make something work for you.

I can’t train with gels and most sports drinks.  I tried just about everything out there, and  I finally started to land on the options that worked best for me by asking around and being unafraid to get blank stares when the majority of my group used something different. The alternative was puking or pooping myself silly at every race.  I also can’t ride on most women’s-specific saddles.  The alternative is horrific, cystic saddle sores that eventually become infected.   I think being the oddball is the better alternative in both cases!

6.       Just because you are CAPABLE of doing something, doesn’t mean you NEED to.

Just because you CAN eat cake at every meal, doesn’t mean you should, because eventually you’ll look and feel horrible.  The same goes with racing and training.  Just because you CAN go 140.6 miles doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for YOU to do.

7.       Rest more than you think you ought to, but push more than you think you can.

Going along with “just because you are capable,” you don’t need to train twice a day, 6 days a week – especially if you’re not getting paid to do it.  Respect your taper and rest days, and every now and then take an extra one.  Hell, don’t worry about an extra 2 or 3 if you’re sick, or traveling, or just plain tired – you probably need them, and your fitness isn’t going anywhere in a few days.  That doesn’t mean you should be lying around eating bonbons and expecting to finish races in amazing times.  It means that, on the days you have intense workouts, give 110% to your workouts – push just a little more than you think you can - and then on the days that you rest, give the same effort to resting!  After all, it’s just as important, if not more so.

8.       The race really is YOU versus YOU.

In life, as in training, someone will always be better, faster, stronger, smarter, prettier.  So don’t worry about beating them.  Worry about beating yourself.

9.       Use obstacles as a reason to excel, not an excuse to fail.

Moliere said “the greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.”  I truly believe I thrive in situations where people – including me – don’t expect me to make it.  The worse things get, the more I step up my game.  As an added bonus, when things are even the slightest bit better, they seem like a breeze!

10.   The best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.

When the protege outperforms the mentor

The flooding is not as bad as I expected at my house, and I think the planks will dry up with no major damage. I don't anticipate any warping or rotting at this time. I really empathize with the people who have to completely replace of some of their flooring, but the rain has backed off and the wind died down, so I hope it helps all of us. This was the worst storm I've been through yet - I'd hate to see the result if Fay had been a full-on hurricane.

The gimpy bully and I went for a short walk today, too. Hilarious little manipulator, that Kona - when we're around home he lies on his favorite chair, or limps over to collect his string-bone and curls up in mine, or snuggles next to my feet, quieter and calmer than he's ever been in his short little life, favoring me from time to time with long-suffering gazes and heartbreakingly sad, droopy ears and eyes (see right). Yet, the second I clip on his leash and allow him to head past the perimeter of the yard, he starts to use his back leg and pulls me down the street with the force of 10 men.

But the real "story of the day" was my run this morning /afternoon with Wubsy. Wubsy has, over the past few months, returned to his pre-marriage status of good friend.

And it all started because of triathlon.

One day, a few months ago, he texted me for some nutritional advice. That turned into a long thank-you for all the healthy habits and motivational speeches I used to give, day in and day out, during the almost 5 years we were together. When we were married, I went from the weight I am now, which is a weight I've only tipotoed around twice in my life -pre-marriage and post-pregnancy. I did it all by following my natural hunger instincts, watching what I ate like I almost always do, running, golf, yoga and -eventually - triathlon. While we were married, I could not convince Al to do any kind of excercise except golf, and even that took me a while to talk him into. His favorite snacks were full-calorie sodas and chips, and he loved giant slices of cheese pizza or that frozen cheesy garlic bread for or with dinner. I had the damndest time getting him to buy extra-extra-lean beef - he always came home with 80-something percent lean instead of 93 or better. I also bought him his first pair of real athletic shoes, but only under duress and after an incident during which he skinned his toe open bicycling with me.

The advice continued over a period of several months, and, under some minor guidance from me, Wubsy now spins 4-7 times a week, lifts weights, runs and occasionally golfs. He also eats way better (and less) than I do (which is the only thing that worries me - I think he needs to eat a little more and/or spin a little less. He is on the verge of spinorexic.) (But he says they have hot spinning instructors, so maybe that explains some of it.)

So, apparently, as a coach?

I.
Fucking.
ROCK.

Imagine my shock when he showed up, 27 pounds lighter and looking (in my opinion) vaguely like a bobble-head. Then he stepped onto a treadmill next to me, rocking a 10-minute mile for 3 full miles - after an hour-long spin class - while I showed no evidence, interval-running next to him, of being a superior or better-trained athlete. Well, besides my running form, but that's only because of Hector coaching me on my form. Where Wubsy was once the clumsier of us two klutzes, I was the one who stumbled 3 - count 'em, THREE - times walking in between sprints. Imagine my further shock when he began regurgitating all of my positive, motivational sports psychobabble - things like "if I can do it, anyone can" and "just take little steps and build from there, and you'll get there before you know it." (By the way, the "old" me - positive and motivational - was really annoying.)

It was almost like we've completely changed places.

I don't know if this is Karma or a Higher Power's intention - to make us both see what it was like to live in the other's shoes - but I'm not so sure I like it. My eye exam isn't till 1:00pm tomorrow and my yoga class isn't until 4:30. I anticipate a swim somewhere in there - if I can't make ti to the Y to reinstate my membership, I'll go for a bike ride. But as for now, after housecleaning and recovering from my 15-minute ride and 35-minute run (I followed ye olde treade up with 1600m on the indoor track), I'm torn. I'm unable to even express the number of emotions that have possessed me for the past several hours. Things like:

1. Envy. That should be me.
2. Injustice. It's not fair that I am going through such hard times after our marriage, when I worried so much about whether we should end it and worked so hard to save it and he wouldn't even go to counseling with me. Now I still have to pay a mortgage and all my own bills, which leaves me less for fitness pursuits and also stresses me into eating more/worse, and he's living rent-free, taking piano lessons and spin classes and making friends at work and causing me to look positively lame. It's also not fair that I, a lifelong athlete, have worked for years to be as shitty an athlete as I am and this guy, who used to have two left feet, has gotten there in less than 6 months.
3. Competitiveness. Dammit, I cannot let him be better than me.
4. Pride. Like I said, as a trainer, I fucking rock!!!!
5. Disbelief. I can't believe I was capable of this much positive impact on another human being's life.
6. Angry. Why the hell couldn't he make this much effort when we were married?
7. Uncertain. Maybe I shouldn't be friends with him, because maybe with everything that's transpired between us, it's destined to upset me.
8. Sad.
9. Sad.
10. Sad.

I'm not even sure if this post should be included under the "top 10 reasons triathlon has helped me" category, because I don't know if this is helping me or making me additionally depressed and discontent with both my depression and utter lack of progress in my physical, mental, emotional and financial life.

Gah. I'm gonna need more wine.

I Have a Really Big But.

You know what I learned this week? I have a really big but.

Hear me out.

Everyone loves to ask where you graduated college, don't they? Think about it. I bet you get asked that by at least every other new person you meet. And in that two seconds, you can catch up on sports rivalries, clubs and sororities, old buddies, the whole nine. Well, I hate that question. Because I haven't graduated college. And, if I ever want my PhD, I won't be graduating college for a looooong time.

The thing is, I've been working and going to school since I was 11 years old, and that's no exaggeration. At 11, I was a middle-schooler holding down two steady, weekly baby-sitting jobs, one of which was actually more of a mother's-helper or nanny position. In my spare time, I helped my brother cut lawns. By 16, I was in high school and working part time. I got my diploma shortly thereafter and was working full time and going to college full time by the time I was 17. So I'm not going to lie: I harbor a lot of resentment for that lucky bunch who had only "summer jobs" until they walked away from Some University with a Four Year Degree. Whose parents paid for them to go to college, all four years, straight out of high school. Or those who could afford, even through savings and loans, to put themselves through all four years of undergrad school, straight out of high school, without having to work for serious, pay-the-rent-and-car-payment-money. Because I didn't get that option, and it means I missed out on the parties, the clubs, and - most of all - the experience of having only ONE obligation in my life.

For me, it's always been a juggling act. This bill, that bill, this job, that job, this class, that club, this volunteer project, that party. And after over 20 years of it, I'm getting pretty tired. Especially because I decided to move out at 18, and my parents would never have been able to send us both on an all-expenses-paid trip to college anyway.

And there's the key phrase: I decided.

So, when people ask The College Question - and they always do - the answer usually goes something like, "Well, I'm still going to Rollins, but I had to put myself through school." Or, "I didn't graduate, but it's because I've had a hard time balancing a full workload with school." Or, "Not yet, but I'm really close."

But, but, but, but . . .

While everyone else was going to college and not much else, I was in Las Vegas as the youngest National Trainer House of Blues had ever employed. I was offered a recording contract and a shot at the public speaking team in college. I owned a brand-new car, that I paid for, which I've done since I turned 17. I traveled around the country and parts of the world, some of it for work and some for play. I learned to speak 3 languages (2 of them poorly). And, while everyone was gaining work experience and deciding if they wanted to go back for their Master's because they'd been out of school a long time, I was being promoted, demoted, earning straight A's, getting engaged, married and divorced, learning how to take prescription medications and deal with 5 different medical specialists, buying my own house and competing in a bunch of triathlons - one won me an award and one was a Half Ironman. I've eaten at some of New York's most amazing restaurants and had the chance to own tons of designer gear, some really hot cars and two motorcycles. I have worked at places that made others green with envy and places that made people ask, "What the fuck do you do again?"

And I did every single bit of all of these things, not IN SPITE of my lack of graduation, but BECAUSE of it. I decided to move out. I could have stayed at home for four years. I still would have had to pay bills and work, but I wouldn't have had to work for rent or food or electricity - just for gas and fun money.

Different. Not better, just different.

You see, last night I finally gained some persepctive on my 70.3 experience, and, as usual, triathlon brought into light a new perspective on my entire life. I came to the realization that I may not actually want or need to do a full Ironman OR get my PhD. I know I COULD do both. But I don't really know if I WANT or NEED to. The truth is, I like to do a LOT of things. And I am not, nor will I ever be, one of those people who can do a LOT of things REALLY well. So I'd rather do a few things quite well, or a lot of things as well as I can. Which means I really don't mind that I didn't "finish" the race. I didn't drop out. I didn't NOT train. I just didn't get as far as I should have in the allotted time, or train as much as I could have given my conditions. While training for short- to mid-distance footraces, I once agreed with myself that this was my CHOICE. My DECISION. Not something that was being forced upon me.

I don't want my life to be one giant obsession, be it triathlon or golf or yoga or partying or organic foods or animals or school or my house or work. I want to enjoy a little bit of all of it. And that attitude is not terribly conducive to Ironman training, for which one must give over nearly every spare minute of one's time. But, if I trained just slightly more seriously for Olympic-distance races than I did for FL 70.3, I could kick enough ass to move from the back of the pack to the middle, as I did with short-distance footraces, and then complete all of an annual Half Ironman.

And I'd be able to handle that all while I went to school, worked, hung out with my pals, watched my budget and diet and managed my medicines and pets and home.

So I made myself a promise today while I was picking up my new shoes and looking at my schedule for the rest of the year. Two promises, actually. First of all, I'm going to keep eating this elephant, one bite at a time. (If not, it will eat me, anyway.) And second, I'm never going to let my but get in my way again.

Track records aren't recorded in meters alone.

I'm not going to lie: I've been to therapy.*

*(Small, virtually imperceptible pause as jaws drop nationwide, because everyone thought I was quite possibly the most mentally stable individual on the planet. HAR.)

Granted, it's been a loooong time, and I never went very regularly, and most of it was couples therapy. (On two separate occasions, two separate counselors asked me bewilderedly {yeah, that's a word - or at least it is now}, how couples therapy could be working when I was the only member of the couple attending. Needless to say, both partnerships ended.) And, while I haven't had enough counseling to swear/prove/claim that I'm a bonafide nutcase, I've had more than your average Jill. Enough to know the reasons you go to therapy. So, some time back, training replaced a large chunk of my therapy, because serious, longer-distance training makes you think the same kind of thoughts that therapy is supposed to make you think.

Let me 'splain, Lucy.

When you're lying in bed at 12am, unable to sleep because you keep thinking thoughts (OH MY GOD, stop the presses, she's THINKING THOUGHTS AGAIN), all sorts of goofy things start to happen in your brain. If you're me, you start wondering why (and how) the hell your body couldn't (or wouldn't) cooperate earlier in the season so that you could be seeing monumental results as opposed to incremental results somewhere in the 2 months before your first 70.3 instead of somewhere in the MONTH before. Then you actually start to think - now bear with me here, because this is where I begin to sound really crazy - you start to wonder - no, you actually start to believe - that maybe - just maybe - you personally, semi-consciously, mentally, manifested your fears as illnesses to give yourself a one-way ticket to The Out. The Out is bad.

But, if you have a TICKET to The Out, then people can say things like That Meggan Ann, she really is a brave little thing, isn't she? Shame about her medical conditions. She could be such a great amateur athlete if it wasn't for her physical limiters. Poor thing. How noble of her to carry on, to try to find a way to beat down her dreams in spite of the odds (come on, let's face it, I'm not chasing my dreams down, I'm murdering them brutally). Because otherwise, people would be thinking: hey, kid, suck it up. If you don't do the work, you don't deserve the glory. You're a fat little lazy bookworm anyway - go back to doing what you're used to doing. No one actually buys that shit about how you used to be athletic. Bitch, please!

Well, the truth of what people think is somewhere in the middle, but that's not the point. The point is that there are demons in your brain, no matter who you are, and you go to therapy to (attempt to) exorcise those m'f'ers.

So, as I'm lying in bed last night, and these little assholes are crawling around in my head (by assholes, I mean the Negative Thoughts, of course), someone's voice jumps in there with them. And it's the second time in the past few weeks this has happened. (Hey, I warned you that this is where I begin to sound nutty.)

It's my very first therapist.

And the voice says, "Just look at your track record."

'Scuse me? I ain't no stinkin' convict. Whaaaa????

"You've been here before."

Since when have I ever trained for a 70.3? Lived in Heathrow? Owned my own place? Been divorced? Been able to actually go in later so I don't rack up overtime?

"But you've experienced traumatic and challenging times before, yes?"

Well . . .

"Well?"

Go****n, it - he's right. Again. Now we're having a full-on conversation in my cabeza.

"And what happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened?"

"Did you get through them?"

"Well, obviously not, or I wouldn't be sitting here in front of you."

"I'd like you to think about what you just said."

Why the f(%^* does this bastard insist on continually making me think?!!?!? Doesn't he know HE'S the one getting paid for this? HE should be the one thinking!!

Wait. He has a point.

"If I hadn't made it through, I wouldn't be mentally and emotionally aware enough to seek professional assistance with my current set of concerns. I'd be in a nuthouse. Or sick. Or, like, dead."

"Well, maybe that's a bit extreme, but I think you get the point. So, whenever you start to feel this way, you need to remind yourself of your track record."

"That's good, right?"

"Of course. It means that you've made it through difficulties before. In fact, if you look back carefully, you'll see that you've never NOT made it through. So, the greatest chance is that you'll make it through again - not that you WON'T make it."

So, Grasshoppa, as we see here, track records aren't recorded only in meters, or in time spent "in the clink." (Or "with the shrink." HAR. Who, by the way, frequently told me that I was one of his most stable patients because I was self-aware enough to identify, reason through and solve all of my own problems.) Now, instead of wondering what I could be accomplishing if I didn't have all my current issues, I'm actually starting to wonder if I was given the issues by A Higher Power to give me a reason to fight.

Not that I'd ever really need one. But I'll take a Ticket to the Match of the Year over a Ticket to The Out any day.

The futile search for perfection continues.

Comedy of errors or disaster? You decide.

By all measures, last night should have been the perfect training night. I left work right at 5; traffic was great and I was home before 6. (My temporary commute of 20+ miles each way is killing me, but I'm making the most of it, flip-flopping between packing every night so I can hit the Y here and going straight home for my outdoor rides.) I had decided to ride in my neighorhood and lift weights at my complex's gym to keep my schedule streamlined and get to dinner and in bed before 10. There was still light out, but I had my clip-on flashing beacon for the later part of the ride. When I pulled into my driveway, I was pumped, ready to slap on my shorts and run, because everything inside my house was packed and ready to go.

Except my house keys.

After several panicked moments of digging through my purse, I realized that, after Tuesday night's workout, I had left them in my swim bag (my locker key is on the same key ring). I made a panicked call to my ex-husband (now roommate) to find out when he was going to be home to let me in. Not until much later, he told me. Like, 8 or 9 later. NOT GOOD. 9 or 10 is when Meggan needs to be in bed. Lack of sleep has seriously hindered my training in the past, and I really need to catch up on it, because I frequently find myself unable to sit up straight by Friday afternoon. What's my next option? I thought. Try to sneak in the garage?

Perfect!

Nope. My garage door opener was not working. Which meant I was dead in the water. That phone call and a quick run to CVS for a couple of Clif bars and some batteries set me back nearly an hour, destroying my chances of working out and eating before bedtime. (Bear in mind that we have an exterior-access keypad, but my ex-husband has the owner's manual and never bothered to look up how to re-set the code or find the manual for me so I could do it. Just like the fridge and freezer aren't working and he hasn't fixed them. Just like he didn't have the lock repaired on the front door. Just like the re-key didn't quite take on one of the doors and he hasn't had it fixed. Just like he hadn't fixed both garage door openers when all they needed was batteries.) Anyway. I basically puttered around until he came home, then sent a panicked e-mail to The Elf about my schedule.

I guess I'm so used to being self-educated, trained and coached that I keep overthinking everything. Maybe this goes along with the compulsive tendencies that manifest themselves in my disordered eating, but I worry about everything, and training is no exception. In fact, training is an even greater concern some times. Perhaps the heightened sensitivity is in direct proportion to the relevance I've placed on this goal (the completion of my first 70.3, something I've never even dreamed possible, but finally see within my grasp, thanks to my coach and the IronDawn and the last few years of training and the support of you guys). There are really two parts to my biggest training-related fears: the things I can control, and the things I can't. I know it is irrational to fear things I can't control, but I do. My GREATEST fear, every day, is what happens if I can't make my workout(s) today?!!! This inevitably leads to Oh my God! I will have to miss FL HIM!!!

This is illogical. First of all, 2008 FL HIM is not the last 70.3 I will ever enter. I missed my first marathon (Mercedes, Birmingham, mountains, February) and ended up training better and being more prepared for Philly later in the year (flatter, cooler, November, more things to do.) And, it seems like common sense that, when my schedule is tight, doing anything on my training schedule is better than doing nothing, but I didn't realize that completely until The Elf reminded me at the beginning of the season. Then I felt like . . . DUH . . . Meggan . . . you've always felt that way about working out. For example, every day I park in the farthest parking spot and take the stairs to/from my 2nd story office (no exceptions!) Second, I have lots of health problems, right now I have some drama, and I'm in between two sides of town commuting 50 miles a day or more. So there is a LOT I can't control. Worrying about it does nothing but stress me. And stress does nothing but destroy the quality of my training. (AND my life, but training is my favorite part of my life right now.)

As far as the things I can control? One thing I'm doing, starting today, is putting my gym locker key and my house key on different key rings, so if I ever leave my gym locker key in one of my workout bags my house keys are not stuck somewhere inside with it! I'm also carrying a "laundry" bag with me, so no matter where I am, I don't have to take my pre-packed swim and gym bags inside - I just take the dirty stuff to/from the house. Then the only thing I will have to "take" from home is my bike and fresh shorts/tops/pants, whatever.

The moral of the story? The search for perfection is futile. Continually striving for it will only set me up for dissapointment and/or failure. I can only reach for the best I can do. I can only give as much as I can give. Whatever isn't in my control - and even I'm not in my own control some times - is also beyond my knowledge. All I can do is deal with it as it comes and steer around it the best I can.

I am, after all, at the helm of this ship.

Top 10 Reasons Triathlon Has Helped Me Be Happier With Myself

10. There's always a reward. Some times you get a medal just for crossing the finish line, and you get at least a t-shirt just for showing up.
9. Shoving yourself into skintight spandex and getting your photo taken while you're blowing snot out of your nose, wincing, or looking constipated makes you really appreciate the way you look in your everyday clothes.
8. Your size and weight have absolutely nothing to do with your ability.
9. Stretch marks don't look so bad next to chafing.
7. A chipped pedicure is nothing compared to losing a toenail.
6. You don't have to be the best at everything. You can be ok at one or two things and still come out ahead.
5. Proper nutrition yields immediate results.
4. Unlike other popular weekend activites, you actually remember what you did the next day, and you want to brag about it, not pretend it never happened.
3. Being yourself really is all you can do, because no matter how good you are, there's always someone faster or stronger.
2. There's no need for hair, makeup, or wardrobe. To quote my mom, "Vogue will not be there to take your picture."
1. Fat floats.