gonna tri:lessons in masterful indifference and drinking the Schuykill

Okay so I am registered for this triathlon. Why am I doing this? Well, months ago, I needed to focus my energies on something besides having another baby. As a foolhardy and rash act, I thought training for a triathlon would be akin to pregnancy. The major difference is that in pregnancy, the baby grows on its own. With a triathlon, you have to clear your schedule for things like open-water swimming, for 15 mile bike rides and for that matter, running 3 miles. As you can imagine, carving out time to train like this is like carving The David out of a side of a mountain.

I went to an open-water swimming clinic yesterday. Two thirds of the morning was spent on education. A swim-trainer discussed tips for an efficient stroke, taught us "sighting" when you look up to sight the next buoy. She also told us that it was okay to come and grab onto a kayak to fix your goggles or to compose yourself. Hallelujah! A break to compose myself! Breaking to compose myself should be my middle name. She also taught us how to keep our mouths closed from drinking the Schuykill water that my friends have me nervous I will end up with a nerve disease.

Then there was the sport psychologist. I took his talk to heart too. He had us articulate our fears in this loud cacaphony of fears filling the air. Then he had us whisper them like secrets. He said that courage is only possible in the presence of our fears. To name our fears: drowning, being slow, claustrophobia in the dark water and in the presence of many other swimmers. Allow our fears to come, thank them for coming, THEN allow them to leave. He taught us "masterful indifference," a suspension of judgement, to think of the race as play. Then mistakes are not problematic, setbacks are not problematic, even injuries are not necessarily problematic. These things are simply variables that can be looked at as influences on the event and NOT dealbreakers. I loved that "masterful indifference" like I know I am ready for this. I know I will be okay, and so I can detach from the outcome. I don't have to pour my identity into the outcome.

And then there was the swimming! We were grouped into heats of 20. I was one of the first in the water because I just wanted to get it over with. I had inked the words "PLAY" and "MASTERFUL INDIFFERENCE" on my inner forearms and tightened my watch, so I could time myself. Well, all that went out the window when I hit that water. I got into that water where I immediately had to tread and my heart caught in my chest and nervously I started freestyle-stroking and did not have the composure or wherewithall to look at my arms nor my watch. I was a frenetic mess. Anyway, the swimming instructor saw me and I guess what was my apprehensive swimming. From her canoe, pointed at me and asked, "YOU! You in the blue cap, are you okay?" She had taught us to ask for help a little before we thought we might need help. So I said yes. They rowed over to me. I hiked my arms up on the boat and just floated for a minute, closed my eyes. Just savoring the break. She coached, "Slow that breath down. You don't have to breathe hard to go fast." I got back in the water and finished the swim. I needed a mentor to be along side me. Essentially, I needed a doula. My mentor swam beside me, encouraging me, telling me to stroke longer instead of higher. I need to keep sight of her neon pink cap to keep my alignment.

I don't know if I'm going to be up for this. We're here in Providence. I have my suit and my sneaks and my bike. I have down-shifted and have just enjoyed drawing with my kids and kind of just want to ramble around with them like a goofy little tourist family. We'll see what happens.