It's Friday evening, and I should be excited. In two days I will compete in my first triathlon, the Carrollton Triathlon Championship in Carrollton, GA. It will consist of a 400m swim, 12-mile bike and 3.4-mile run.
I signed up for this almost a month ago and have been training for it on and off ever since. The running part will come easy and I'm a decent cyclist, so I have focused mostly on the swim. I've been pleased with my progress, surprised that once I found my pace I could swim upwards of 1600m at a stretch without much difficulty. I'm in really good shape and am not intimidated.
Aside from the training aspect I have also studied. I've brushed up on the rules and regulations, and have watched countless videos demonstrating the transitions and how best to get through them quickly and unscathed. No, I will not be trying to put on my cycling shoes on while riding. Nor will I be running sans socks. Other than that, though, I think I have a good plan in place.
It is Friday evening, but I'm not excited. I haven't even told anyone I doing this until now. Why? Maybe the stress of selling a house and moving these past couple of weeks is taking its toll on me. Maybe it's because I miss my daughter, who is visiting her grandparents. Maybe. Whatever. It doesn't really matter, does it?
If there's one thing I am it's dedicated. This funk I'm in will not keep me from competing. I will wake up on Sunday morning and claim my spot in the transition area. I will step to the edge of the water and put on my goggles. I will bow my head for a moment and then give it everything I've got.