We’ve all had that moment, that sudden shift once a race is
over, when our bodies recover and forget just a little too quickly the dire
depths of pain we’ve just been in in the moments before. That shift then brings
with it those begging questions: could I have gone a little harder, given just
a little more? The pain, once diminishing, is so hard to fully comprehend. More
than once, I’ve wished I could somehow bottle the pain. If I could fully remember
it, would I have a greater appreciation for my own performances? Well, in a
somewhat broader and greater sense, that is exactly what this blog post is
aiming to capture.
The last few months have been some of the toughest of the
last 15 months – my first 15 months as a proper triathlete. I returned from my
end of season break in November, expectedly unfit and accompanied by a little
extra “buoyancy.” The perfect start I suppose, to dive straight into my first
real swim block. For six weeks prior to Christmas, I hit the gym and lived at
the pool. I was forced to leave my security blanket of running fitness at the
door, or rather somewhere in the distant past, probably hiding out back at the
Lantau Asian Cup in October (my last race before break). This was hard. Not
only did I feel like I was repeatedly banging my head against a brick wall
every day at the pool, but I couldn’t even feel a sense of confidence or even
control that is usually brought about by just knowing that at least I had my
run. Eventually, my time cycles in the pool slowly started coming down and
coupled with that, I could hold them for longer. Then, as if it just wasn’t
quite right to let me build any small semblance of self-satisfaction, I hit the
open water and was decimated. The mental leap of faith of letting my running
fitness dwindle into nothingness, the physical pain of dragging myself back to
the pool for sessions often multiple times in a day, the constant stench of
chlorine and the early morning alarm clocks for squad …. NONE of it had been
worthwhile. Well, that’s arguably an irrational overstatement but when your
afternoon naps are in the car in the pool car park, you can be excused for, in
a state of overtiredness, jumping to perhaps a slightly extreme disappointment
when it doesn’t translate to the open water. A month on, I can feel tiny steps
edging forward, but it’s definitely a long road and not one for the impatient.
Christmas time for triathletes generally means gorging on
food and then heading to Falls Creek to burn it all off. For me, this year also
meant a two week intermission to my swim block. As I’d learned in my first year
the previous year, the Endurance Team camps always commence with the Benalla
Triathlon. This year, being my first summer to be in “off season,” I opted to
do just the run leg as part of a relay. Was I actually thinking that running
hard for the first time in months would somehow miraculously see me back
trotting around 5km in 17minutes?! Admittedly, I didn’t quite appreciate what a
proper swim block and therefore minimal run training actually meant in terms of
racing ability. Needless to say I had a deplorable performance, and thus, came
another nail slammed firmly in my already fragile confidence. What relief I
then felt that by the second week of camp, I had shed some “buoyancy” and felt
light on my feet again. We introduced some intensity and I was able to
comfortably sit on paces faster than I’d raced at Benalla and more in line with
what I am capable of. To arrive back from Falls the evening before the Gatorade
Olympic Distance with zero taper, it was honestly just such a relief to feel
like I was simply jogging around the 10km and still manage the fastest Elite
girls’ run split.
But, they say this sport is a juggling act. It’s a
constant tug of war, forever battling against the notion of equal and opposite
reactions. Falls Creek brought about a sense of peace in my mind. I was brought
back together with my old mate, running. We were friends again, and I was
feeling strong on the bike again too. Brilliant! But the truth is, to enable
this, we didn’t swim as much. You simply can’t swim huge volumes on that type
of camp. It’s not the goal of the camp. But no logic or sound reasoning could
console me after, by all accounts, I had the most dismal swim I have ever
completed in the Gatorade Triathlon on our return. It was another nail, this
time pushed, twisted and bent on its way in. I’m back to the drawing board this
week, back to the pool, driven by the underlying truth that I just have to
persevere with my swimming. One day… one day… maybe…
We live in a world hastened by impatience, dogged by
constant comparison to others and falsely driven by the notion that if we put
in, we will get back….. straight away. I am completely guilty of all these
qualities. The word I have been told, texted, emailed constantly over the last
few months by so many people, has been “patience.” That to me means that I
should be able to swim, roughly, maybe, sometime.. NOW. Well, I can kind of swim,
just not as fast as I’d like or need to be for top ITU level racing but I am
improving. The improvement certainly isn’t as fast as I would have liked but I
also know that the girls I am comparing myself to didn’t learn to swim the way
they can in just a few months either. It’s hard, and I need to remember how
hard this journey is. If I can, then one day hopefully, I can open this bottle
of pain, read this blog, breathe it in, and give myself a little pat on the
back. I’ll know then, that I DID give it everything and no, I could not have
gone a little harder or given just a little bit more.
