A Long Three Months

I knew I was crazy for signing up for this race without even knowing how to swim, but I didn't fully realize the amount of time I would have to put in for training until I actually started training. Every day I was running, swimming or biking, sometimes both, before and after work, volleyball, and hockey. Half of the time my lungs screamed, my muscles ached and my body hated me for what I was putting it through. The other half of the time I was more or less a zombie going through the motions, following my training schedule, getting that 23-minute swim in before the pool closed at 10pm on a Monday night. I had time for nothing else. I'm lucky that most of my friends supported my training and understood my neglect.

I suffered injuries and setbacks that I hadn't planned for. My torn MCL in my left knee set me back weeks and then I was only allowed to swim and bike for another two weeks before I could attempt to run again. A brief stint of tendinitis in my patellar tendon in my right knee from volleyball suddenly sprung into play and strained ligaments in my right foot thanks to an hour-and-a-half-long African dance class made me limp for a good two weeks and curbed my running once again. And it seemed like every time I went swimming I ended up with a sinus infection or a nasty cold. Migraines, cramps, stomach flu - you name it, I pretty much had it during that three months!

And there were tears. It seemed as if every time I started to gain momentum in my training, something would happen to set me back and make me work a little harder and start all over again; as if someone was telling me that simply training for the race would be too easy, that somehow I needed a bigger challenge.

I persevered. I found strength in my goal of finishing the race and in my resolve to be a part of something bigger than myself. And when I couldn't find that strength, I had someone training next to me pushing me to fight and encouraging me to keep going. Even though my "just go on without me" attitude got the best of me at times, she wouldn't leave my side and I honestly couldn't have done it without her. When I crossed the finish line last Sunday and she flung her arms around me screaming "you did it!" tears stung my eyes and I was more joyful than I ever remember being.

It was a long and challenging three months in preparation for 113 minutes of sweat and ten seconds of complete and utter joy. And worth every second of it.