Confessions of a Non-Athlete

So, I've verbally agreed to complete this sprint triathlon in September.  I say "verbally agreed" because registration has not yet begun and my drive to challenge myself is the only thing tethering me to this insane commitment.  For those who don't know what a sprint triathlon is (i.e. me about two weeks ago), it is a 1/2 mile swim followed immediately by a 5k run which is followed immediately by a thirteen mile bike ride.  I don't know if every sprint triathon is like this - that's how little I know. Now that you know this, I have a few confessions to make:

Confession 1 - I can't swim.  I mean, I grew up with a pool in my backyard, I can keep myself afloat and I can get from one end of the pool to the other but I can't SWIM.  Like, I can't make my body work in a fashion that gets me through the water faster than say, a snail, much less with my arms and legs in coordination with one another.  I'm sure my parents will be thrilled to hear this after spending years of time and money maintaining a pool.  So, needless to say, I'll be signing up for swim lessons in the near future.  Oh, I also have a horrible fear of getting water in my ears/ up my nose and I hate being splashed in the face.  So there's that.

Confession 2 - I'm a terribly slow runner.  When Wendy and I were discussing the idea of this blog, we were also discussing our feelings of working out around "legit" athletes.  How we felt inferior to those around us because we hadn't been at the game as long as they had.  We were out of shape, clunky, and generally had no idea what we were doing.  I explained that I used to feel that way when I started running but now I feel totally legit - even if I'm only running a twelve minute mile.  For those of you who have no point of reference, let me explain.  I was at the gym the other day just busting my tail on the treadmill when I noticed the guy running beside me was holding his side, obviously in pain.  I was sweating, panting, basically dying and I was probably only two miles into a four mile run when he decided to dial it back to tend to this pain in his side.  He slowed to a walking pace - only I saw his speed and realized his walking pace (with a pain in his side) was still faster than my running pace.  Sigh.

Confession 3 - If given the option of biking down a sidewalk or hitting a telephone pole, I choose the telephone pole.  Not on purpose, mind you.  I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was 12.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Twelve.  My little sister was barreling down the street on her two-wheeler when she was probably three but me? Nope.  Not for lack of trying.  My poor mother spent endless hours running around behind me just hoping I would find my balance and stay on that bike but I just couldn't get it.  I'm not sure how it finally happened but eventually I learned to stay upright.  I just don't do a great job of it.  I'm a nervous rider. I freak out if I get within 3 feet of any obstacle on any side of me.  On occasion, this has led to me plowing directly into said obstacle (refer to aforementioned telephone pole).

I'm sure at this point you see why agreeing to complete an event where I need to swim, run and bike could possibly end in disaster.  So stay tuned.  It promises to get interesting.

2 Legit 2 Quit,
JS