We can all be Triathletes

We All Look Dorky, and Let’s Not Forget It

From: Slow Fat Triathlete by Jayne Williams

Triathlon includes innumerable opportunities for low comedy, and I think that’s absolutely critical to the overall experience. You learn about life. You learn about yourself. And a huge part of learning about yourself is being able to embrace your own ridiculousness. Yes, you can feel heroic as you dig down deep to get up the big hill or pass the person in front of you. You can feel the spiritual transcendence of being one with your body, communing with nature and your fellow triathletes.

But when you fall flat on your ass in the middle of transition because you can’t get your cold, shaking legs out of your slippery wetsuit, it balances out the epic grandeur quite nicely. The drills we do to warm up for running look like mass practice for Monty Python’s Silly Walks competition. We crash into each other trying to get on our bikes at the first transition. And we all pee in our wetsuits, don’t let anyone tell ya different. And the contortions both men and women engage in so they can put anti-chafing creams on their various body parts – nobody looks anything but completely silly doing that. Nobody looks “good” when they’re soaked with sweat and the Gatorade they spill on themselves during the run leg. I happen to think that shiny skin-tight Lycra is a fine fabric for all-day wear, but I know a lot of my girlfriends and husband think we look, well… funny.

We look funny during our training, even funnier during our races, and our fears, neuroses, and pre-race nerves make us pretty funny, too. We worry about our fitness, about the weather, about the course layout, about equipment, nutrition, sleep – it pretty much never ends. We’re all a bunch of Woody Allens out there, right until the moment we step up to the line and hear the starter’s horn. And then we go, ready or not, fat or thin, fast or slow.

What I’m really trying to say here (again) is that life is way too short and precious to worry about what other people think when you’re out doing something. Self-consciousness is the enemy of fun. It’s the enemy of feeling comfortable. It’s the enemy of achievement. It’s your enemy. Decide right now to banish self-consciousness from your journey to triathletehood. Don’t worry about what you look like in Lycra, or whether your boobs jiggle when you run, or whether your beer belly gets in the way of your aerodynamic tuck on the bike. Remember, we all look dorky. And absolutely remember that we always think we look worse than we do. Believe that your body, like any body, was made to be moved, and that any body in motion is a glorious thing.

They say that nobody ever thinks on their deathbed, “Gee, I wish I had spent more time at the office.” Yet I hear people say to me, “I’d love to do a triathlon, but I need to lose some weight first.” Why wait? If you have any inkling of a longing to cross the finish line and raise your arms n triumph, just start now. Say to yourself, “My journey to the triathlon starts today.” It starts with a single walk or jog, or a visit to the pool you haven’t been to in years.

Take the first step today…