We Aged Up

Got back in the pool yesterday. This in itself a big deal. By my own admission I am not a good swimmer, but as you know, the triathlon tradition insists on an open water swim to start the day. Remembering that the last time I had been in anything liquid other than a shower was the same event for which I now prepare, and that I am still nursing a sore and compromised left shoulder, the simple completion of a thousand meters represented a fairly sizable victory for the home team. 

We started slow, doing what competent swimmers call getting the feel for the water. As our new pool is a touch shorter than the standard length, 70 feet (or 21.3 meters) I found the difference interesting in as much as I was taking fewer strokes, a joke that later belly-flopped, but also making more flip turns. On the bright and warm, bordering on hot, summer afternoon water temperature was almost tub-like, meaning that my one responsibility was to test my shoulder to gauge race day pain levels. I am used to this, but have taken the approach over the last few years that the swim, while long, is just a warm up for the bike and run to follow. Therefore I put about as much effort into its practice as I do in automatic transmission repair or learning to play the accordion. (This from a guy who owns both a didgeridoo and a ukulele.)

I designed the afternoon’s workout to test the viability of a local three-sport session. As mentioned, our club recently opened the new pool and with my instructors membership it removes the one obstacle I always railed against at our community pool, the cost, where even a senior punch-pass is expensive. I was once guilty of repeating the complaint that to build the new pool we property owners, A) Passed a levy for initial construction that went seriously over-budget, B) Make a yearly contribution via property tax to the district that manages our parks, and then, C) Rather orgulously, are charges still another fee to use said facility. Might as well fine me for doing slow 500IM sets while you’re at it! Oh yeah, you can also rent a lock to secure your locker should you desire additional piece of mind while trying to remember what lap you’re currently on. 

The days workout would include a swim. It had too. Pardon the intentional pun, but the time had come to sink or swim. We would ride form our neighborhood to the club, a hilly four miles or so, swim the thousand meters, shower, change back into bike gear, ride back and then run a 5K. A fun little three-sport event under blue skies and in the warmth of the Pacific Northwest summer. Cool.

Worked out well. Good rides, a very decent swim and a slug-it-out run. Unofficial times were 15 minutes for the two rides, a 20 minute swim and a 30 run, adding up to a 75 minute informal (no chronometer) clocking. 

I mentioned to my partner that since I have twenty days till the race I would be well advised to spend every one of them in this chlorinated body of water. She said, pointing to a small alcove in the main building, that my sleeping bag might perfectly fit there, hint, hinting in agreement after accessing my clumsy freestyle stroke. 

It was a good effort, testing and training. The inclusion of the casual no-watch element also created an unusual and appreciated atmosphere of fun over fact. Would you rather have fun or win? 

Up until this point in my racing, this was no debate. The objective was to win, or at the very least compete at the highest possible level. Speed was the goal, endurance the objective. We transformed our understanding of fun to include a high degree of pain management. The competition was the joy as well as the reward. THAT was fun and THAT is what we did. We trained hard. Every day. 

And then a funny thing happened. A thing that changed everything. 

We aged up.