11 Days and counting

I am still in denial about this race rapidly approaching. Everyday brings a new mental challenge to overcome, a self defeating doubt that comes creeping in, a question of worthiness for the marathon once again. I push those thoughts down and try to replace them with reminders of great training runs and countless miles logged.

Today was 6 1/2 easy miles with T. Felt so good to cruise and chat. On to the pool.

Hammer set Wednesday, as coach Terry calls it. That just never sounds promising to a non-swimmer. In fact, it evokes serious fear in my heart and creates some nausea. I procrastinated as long as I could before I got in the water today. Sipped some coffee on the pool's edge and chatted with anyone who would have conversation. Resigned myself to the fact that the pool was not going away so I either had to get in or get in the shower. I always think of the old saying "sink or swim". For me, the more appropriate one would go something like this: "sink or shower". I got in and swam 300 warm up, long course, after all.

Warmup was 10 100s on base plus 5, every third one stroke. That was pallatable, though the pace felt a little faster than I could muster. I claimed caboose and hung on to the feet in front of me. I swam one more 300 and then the clock saved me.

Something occured to me as I was grinding out those 100s, however. I am always accutely aware of how much I dread swimming. I mean, I love all things associated with it: the smell of chlorine on my skin (even at the end of the day after showering twice), the ache in my traps after a tough set, the heaviness in my chest as I am lumbering for breath on the wall. But, really, it is still so freaking hard for me. I never get in the pool and feel like I have arrived. It is never, never easy. Even on days I feel tired, I can run forever. It may not be pretty, but I can still crank out the miles and be in a realitively happy place. In the pool, I simply agonize over every minute and just want to quit.

So, as all of these self depreciating thoughts were plaguing me, a little thought came to my mind. It was a gift, really. Even as I was hating all of my deficiencies in the water, I was thinking of my huband's remarkable talent. One of the things that really drew me to him from early on was his love for all things water. He loves the ocean. He used to surf often (before life got in the way). He can get in the ocean and command it. He is Neptune of the sea. His stroke is so beautiful and his confidence in the water is unmistakeable. I am so very much in awe of someone who can do that. I appreciate his lack of fear or defeat for the water. The man can swim forever, and that is a talent I envy and wish I could emmulate. I guess this is my podium for bragging about him and his athletic abiltities. He is extremely humble, though he knows in his heart he is great. I think that is what contributes to our relationship success. We are nowhere near being able to compete or even train together. He is so much faster than I am in all three disciplines, and I am more than okay with that.

I am embarrassed to admit it, but I would not respect a partner who was not stronger, faster, better than I am in sports. Something about it seems a little archaic, anti anything I learned in all my feministic sociology classes at UCSD and UCSC, but for me, it makes perfect sense. I need a man who can out swim, cycle and run me so I feel provided for, in a silly way, perhaps, but nonetheless, taken care of. As if I were ever out in the ocean and in need of rescue, I know he would be able to provide that lifeguard quality. He is an Ironman afterall, right? In the same way, I know he does not feel like he ever has to compete with me and I think that does his ego just fine. We just work together. We compliment each other's training without ever being together in those athletic endevours. We can inspire and encourage even when apart. I think that is why Rock N Roll will be so amazing. Even if I bomb and have a pathetic time (stay tuned, people; this is a great possibility if the heat continues on race day as it has been), it will be a great day to know he is out there, somewhere very far ahead of me in the distance. I will think that I am retracing his steps as I plod along, more than an hour behind him.

Guernsey, you are amazing in all things athletic and super adorable, too. Thanks for being a beacon all these dark days in the pool. Love you.