I couldn’t be further from this achievement.
I haven’t even finished a full TitaniumPerson race.
I sniffle to clear the emotions.
She sniffles to clear hers. “You ready for Saturday?”
“I’ll use the next few days to prepare as best I can.” I tell her with confidence I’m pulling from the depths of me.
Truth?
I’m worried I haven’t worked hard enough.
That I won’t be good enough.
Because the true definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.
The first summer after Dad died, I ran a normal triathlon and finished in the top ten of my age group. It was the confidence boost I needed.
I came home from the race and signed up for a half TP race in October and another in May. A few clicks and debit card number key strokes later, I was registered for the Chicago TitaniumPerson race the September after.
The half distance was tough but I got through it. In the first race I finished in the middle of my age group. But in the race in May I finished thirteenth.
I worked my ass off all summer. I spent money on gear, on gym memberships, on training plans, and devoted every waking moment to training for the full race distance in September.
I didn’t finish it.
With eleven and a half miles to go in the marathon my body simply wouldn’t move forward. I collapsed on the side of the road and volunteers nursed me back to standing.
Dee rode the El home with me while I cried over my failure and the pure pain in my body. I nearly choked imagining it rivaling the pain my dad felt in his final days.
Three days later I felt well enough to walk without wincing and that night Dee told me to go for a run.
When I got back, sore and tired but feeling a few of those runner’s high endorphins, Dee pointed to her laptop and told me to register for next year.
“Go balls deep,” was her exact advice.
That’s how I ended up with three full length TPs on my calendar this summer.
She wasn’t going to let me give up.
And it’s a good thing too, because this is my last year to make good on the promise I made to my dad.
First, I have to finish a TitaniumPerson race. Then I’ll worry about winning one.
“I’ll make sure the car has a full tank of gas.” She says.
“Thanks Dee.” What she doesn’t know? I can't afford the hotel room I told her I got so I'm sleeping in the car the night before the race. I’m not exactly proud of it but I am doing everything I can to make this work.
I found a bike rack on Marketplace and haggled the seller down from $25 to $8 because that's all the cash I had on hand.
I've found people can't say no to your face so when you show up and hand over all the cash you have they'll take it.
When I decided to pursue this after Dad died, I knew the physical side of it would be tough but I wasn’t prepared for how nearly impossible the financial side would be. Gear is one thing, but the gym memberships, the coaching programs, the race fees, the travel expenses all add up and I didn’t budget well at the start.
I invested in a fancy gym membership and trained every day. Twice a day. And last fall I realized I couldn’t afford it and still pay rent so I left the gym and have been surviving on free guest passes at gyms across the city since. The brutal cold of January and February made training outside impossible. I’ve been able to manage much better now that spring has sprung.
“I’m gonna go, and then I’m going to brick on a run when I get back.” Everything is about more. A bike ride alone isn’t enough, I need to transition to a run and push my body further. I picked up on the language of training in different online forums. To brick is to stack one discipline on top of the other, building your endurance foundation.
