What follows is the usual holiday ramblings;
It almost feels like if I don’t have Outlaw for the next couple of months as a focus I will just stop doing anything. That said the thought of doing it right now is fairly terrifying to be honest. I havent ridden my bike for longer than 60 miles in a go this yr and have stagnated after the London episode to the point where despite increase miles overall I have decreased focus. More junk miles are more miles after all, which satisfies the short term ego boost but ultimately leaves the longer term even further away or hanging on a knife edge. Going out to do a three hr session at intended comfortable pace with efforts (for me 20mph) and coming back having done low 19’s and being hammered doesn’t really appease either.
My head still can’t get around the thought that if I do outlaw it may well, in all likelihood, be slower than when I did it the first time and that fear of being measurably slower or pulling out (let’s be honest I have form) when things either go wrong or hurt to much just pushes me closer to chickening out. If there is no likely or limited enjoyment and only a perceived increased amount of pain (with potential long term suffering) then it’s just a chubby fool chasing a medal I properly won’t look at apart from when I am drunk.
That said every time anyone asks about my tattoo I get a surge of pride, a hidden feeling rises up and makes me feel ten feet tall. The usual questions of really? Why? That’s nuts, I don’t think I could do that etc come and I admit I like people thinking I am not just some fucking finance manager for which ever company currently has the pleasure of employing me.
That will remain regardless of if I do another 10 or never another long one again. Maybe my mind is a victim of its overinflated self selected success which is why I am now somewhat suck in this now massively elongated state of mind; nothing is good enough and everything leaves me further behind.
I still resemble more of a beached whale than a Greek god on the beach, although I am finally coming round to giving less of a toss of what I perceive others to think of me.
That said having a little Spanish man, dressed in a bright green wrestling costume, wip off my top after being dragged on stage what’s exactly fun or reassuring. The video of said incident also served to hammer home that I will never look as good as I want.
That’s not defeatist but a reality check – I was too big for too long and things are too far stretched to ever not have flabbiness on my gut. Unless I guess I choose to pay for some sort of tummy tuck; but then I am not a middle age mum from Cheshire with a rich sugar daddy.
Whilst away I found enjoyment in running in the early mornings; joined by a sunrise and an increasingly growing number of speedy fellow runners as the time edged closer to sensible o’clock.
But I enjoyed getting out, I enjoyed fantasising I was on a hot weather training camp and the thought of how many courses I could eat for breakfast afterwards. I ran for fun, for the challenge of running to Alcudia along the main road or the challenge of attempting to keep up with the speedy multinational bastards hammering along the promenade. I didn’t run to push myself, I didn’t do it with any particular event in mind or target time. Just the process was enough – likewise when I swam.
Twice it was Tenby esq rough and to be honest I was just glad not to drown whilst on holiday or engage Tenby vomit. Then the other times when it was mercifully calmer it was just swimming for (the little) enjoyment it brings. Chasing fish and generally just taking pleasure in what I could ogle at along the way, semi naked ladies included.
With that tactic I actually managed to do 10 hrs of decent exercise in the 8 days which I hope at least partially offsets the constant drinking and eating which I definitely enjoyed for 9 days.
I haven’t enjoyed the daily 30 mins of knee exercises I have to do since January to keep my knees fit and functional and that’s the balance for the future.
If I keep pushing them will it result in longer term issues? I have loads of plans for life and none of them involve broken, dodgy knees from attempting long distance triathlons.
Jacking the job in after the mortgage is paid off and the kid is no doubt travelling the world and doing something similar is more within my thoughts, which I presume will be easier with a semi functioning body.
This is just a series of small rambles with no clear answer to the question which still remains unanswered.
I have thought of entering another smaller local tri – either an Olympic or 70.3 on the 11th June to see if it sparks something inside of me. On the back of that I would choose to either continue with the Outlaw plan or withdraw on the 11th (which is the next cut off of decreased refunds) but I can’t bring myself to even enter that, which I suppose highlights that deep down I don’t want to do either events and leads me down the path to just pulling out now.
Aside point I guess is I wonder when I decided in my head that a 70.3 was easy? It’s not like I am quick or threatening the top ten at them and it’s still a bloody long way for a fat lad.
Is it a bigger challenge to go sub 5hr or at least get close in a 70.3 and not destroy my knees than chase an improbable sub 11hr and break them?
Especially as I fly to Thailand two days later for 3 weeks; which will be more fun if I can walk.
The emphasis on the next decision should be on which battle to select going forward and I think with that in mind I will pull out of outlaw this year, use the funds saved from hotel rooms and the refund back on race entry towards maybe a down payment on a nice road bike and see how I go at the 70.3 I have booked (more likely I will switch to the oly) in for the end of June.
Probably change my mind and find myself on the starting line in Nottingham…..