What it means to TRI

The world of triathlons is an exciting one; it is bursting with passionate athletes, full of fierce dedication.  Want to see a little crazy?  Wake up early on a Saturday morning and head to the nearest start line.  The grass is still wet with dew and the air is buzzing with anticipation; there are hundreds of people swinging arms in wetsuits or pumping up bike tires…  it’s truly an amazing sport.  Through the years, I’ve become familiar with the language and fluidity of the race.  I have grown to understand and love this community and their unique brand of insanity.

But I’m not infected by the passion; I don’t eat, sleep and breathe racing. 

I am the spectator.

I am the one behind the scenes… budgeting for new wheels and ordering energy gels.  When it’s time to train, I stay at home with the baby and the dog while my husband completes 19 mile runs and 100 mile rides.  There’s a wetsuit drying in my bathroom and bicycle grease on the carpet.

I am the spectator.

THE GOOD:

There's nothing quite like a race.

Here’s the thing; I love the races.  I really enjoy sticking my toes in the sand while Tim is swimming, or taking pictures through the transitions.  While he’s on the bike, I spend time playing peek-a-boo with Henry or walking Kali; and when he gets to the run, we make our way to the finish line to cheer him down the home stretch. 

I can also appreciate the way triathlons have shaped Tim, both physically ( and mentally.  I am lucky to have a husband who is so passionate about a sport that is nothing but good for him, body and soul.  He has such strong determination and pride for this tri-life… he is always trying to improve.  There are so many people out there who are complacent with their sedentary lives and never feel the need to push themselves and strive to be better.  I am blessed to have such a strong man who always yearns to be stronger.  He has passion for his sport, love and devotion for his family, and some pretty incredible leg muscles.

THE BAD:

Triathletes have to train.

The part no one talks about is the training time… and boy, is there training time.  Do you know how much time these triathletes need to train for a full distance tri?  Hundreds of thousands of hours! On a ‘heavy’ week, he will train for a couple hours every day… sometimes getting up to 15-17 hours by the end of the week.  Those ‘easy’ weeks end up cutting workout times down to an hour or so every day.  Even then, it’s a HUGE time commitment. 

One afternoon, I took Henry swimming at the Y while Tim did his swim workout.  I wasn’t in the pool ten minutes before he gave up the workout and came to play with Henry and I.  In times like that, I can see how difficult it is for Tim to sacrifice time with us to train.  But the problem is, I don’t always remember how difficult it is for Tim… I can only see how difficult it is for me.  The worst happens when Tim’s working and it’s been a rough day and night with the baby.  When he finally gets home the next morning, he has to turn around and head back out for a 4-hour bike ride.  And the days where he needs to complete a bike workout AND a run workout? Yikes! I’m sure bringing a new baby into the mix hasn’t helped, but these past 7 months of training have put a definite strain on our marriage.

THE UGLY:

A post-partum body can’t keep up with a triathlete.

Don’t get me wrong, I would do it all over again for that beautiful baby, but there are a lot of ugly things that happened to my body throughout pregnancy.  I gained nearly 70 pounds during those 9 months and I’m really struggling to lose it.  I’ve never had such a devastating combination of low self-esteem, postpartum depression, and poor body image.  Any woman who has looked at herself in the mirror after giving birth can understand… there is such a crazy mixture of emotions!  You proudly wear the battle scars; the stretch marks, the 8-inch scar (yeah, he was a BIG baby) and that sad little pooch of skin that refuses to shrink back to its original size.  On the other hand, you have concerns about your sex appeal or whether your pre-preggers jeans will ever fit again. With all of these emotions running rampant, I watch my husband with a plethora of feels… I want to shout for joy when he finishes another race and cry because I feel left behind.  I am inspired to run but devastated at how slow my body needs to go.  It can be exhausting.

In the end, it is a challenge for me.  I am not naturally drawn to exercise like my husband.  I am the one who hates every second until I’m about ten minutes into the workout.  I grudgingly put on my shoes and tell myself I have to do at least one lap at the park.  But I refuse to be sedentary. 

My husband deserves a wife who takes pride in her body.

My beautiful baby boy deserves a mom who can keep up with his boundless energy. 

And me?  

I’m going to swim/bike/run a half-iron triathlon with my husband… 

because I need to know I can.

~Changes~

Okay, it’s been a while since the last update (let’s be honest with each other… I’ve taken an extreme hiatus from writing) and there have been hundreds of changes over the last few months. 

The biggest change is actually the smallest… a little over fourteen pounds now. That’s right, I’m a mommy!  And while this absolutely the best thing to ever happen to me, no one can ever prepare you for the entire experience. 

Over the last twenty-eight years, I have had many different kinds of adventures.  I’ve had simple adventures like building blanket forts and playing in the leaves with my siblings.  I’ve had fancy adventures… walking the red carpet to my senior prom and drinking cocktails at my first opera.  I have gone on adventures with my sisters and brothers, with my husband and my friends.  Out of all of these experiences, nothing could prepare me for the biggest adventure…  and it started with a ten-pound, five-ounce bundle handed to me in the early hours on a Monday morning. 

Who knew life could change so suddenly? With no warning or fanfare… just simply Tim’s quiet voice, ‘it’s a boy’ and a small, strangled cry in the background.

...Life shifts…

Now my days are filled with strollers, car seats, burp rags, and pacifiers; my nights are broken up with 2 am feedings and diaper changes.  On one hand, I miss the ease of my ‘pre-mom’ life… leaving the house when I wanted, or having lunch when I got hungry.  On the other hand, I have this tiny human who smiles at me every morning and cuddles when he’s tired.  Even just the smallest coo can make me melt! 

Before this little guy made his way into the world, people warned me how little sleep I would get and how life would change completely.  Even though the first two weeks were pretty rough, I’ve determined I must be one of the lucky ones.  Perhaps it’s because he was a big baby or maybe it’s God’s way of giving me a rainbow after the storm that was my labor experience, but this baby sleeps anywhere from 6 to 9 hours at night.  And on the nights he does wake up, I spend those forty minutes awake, staring at the most beautiful face... so it's impossible to be upset. 

At the end of the day, I might be exhausted and smell like spit-up, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  He is perfect and I love him more than I ever thought I could.