If it's August now, then it means that it will be September in about a month, give or take. And September is when I'm supposed to be hopping, skipping and jumping my way through an Olympic Distance triathlon.
Am I prepared? Am I f**k. I haven't trained as much as I should have. Sure I have excuses - being diabetic and asthmatic hasn't really helped. But, if I'm really honest with myself - something I have successfully avoided for the first thirty ten years of my life - it's been the fear of failing that has stopped me from trying as hard as I could. Which is extremely silly, because the only way that you can guarantee failure is if you don't try. What was I thinking?
Cake. I was probably thinking about cake. I'm always thinking about cake.
I must confess to having a bit of a wobble this week, and I'm not just talking about my bum. Doubt has set in. The doubt about not being able to swim a whole 1,500m without panicking, or cycle a whole 40km without hypoing, or running a whole10k without..... wait, just running a whole 10k. I still haven't actually managed to run that far at all, let alone after a panic-less swim or a hypo-less 40km cycle.
I've got almost exactly seven weeks to prepare. Six if you count the taper. That's the only discipline I'm confident in. Sitting on my arse, eating chocolate? I've been training hard for that bit most of my life.
I really needed to get me some inspiration this week. Who do we know who can inspire? Who does inspire? Who has inspired? Who has Type 1 Diabetes and also does triathlons? Who has an ometer named after him? Yes, it's Inspirational Steve.
But Inspirational Steve was unavailable. Unavailable Steve had come down with a nasty infection, unfortunately annoyingly common in people with Type 1 Diabetes. Blimey, if Unavailable Steve can get floored with Diabetes, what hope is there for the likes of me?
I had a bit of a wallow, I must admit. Wallow in self-pity, and wallow in sadness for others with Diabetes who struggle every day. That's a lot of wallowing. And I had a bit of chocolate, I must admit. Chocolate for me, and chocolate for others with Diabetes who struggle every day. That's a lot of chocolate.
Still, I needed to find some inspiration. Where was I going to find some if Inspirational Steve was unavailable? I'll tell you where. Right in front of my face.
I may have mentioned something about a triathlon next month. I know I've been obsessing about all year. I'm doing it primarily to see if I can, but also to raise money for a charity called Aspire, who help people with spinal injuries. I could have chosen many other charities, Diabetes UK, or Asthma UK, or any other charity which has been rebranded to include a "UK" somewhere. Aspire are a charity that help people with spinal injuries. I definitely remember the time I got hit by an arcticulated* truck, and broke my back in three places. I will never forget the pain, the fear, the cheesecake** or the inaccurate reporting from the local newspaper (I was thirty-ten, not "in her forties"). One day I will write about it in more detail. For now, just trust me, pain and fear are a horrible combination. Even if accompanied by cheesecake.
I'm lucky - I managed to break the best bones possible in my back. The ones that you can break and make it sound extremely impressive to the average person on the street. But they are also the ones that illicit a disappointed "Humph. Back to the golf course" from the on-call orthopedic consultants prepped for emergency surgery. Armed with only the best opiod-based painkillers in the world, I could stagger 20 paces to the loo within a few days. I could walk the 200m down the road after a few weeks. Sounds a bit like a typical parkrun recovery, but it was worse than that. 10 weeks later I was back on a bike for short distances. It took longer to swim due to the additional nerve damage and broken collarbone, which was missed at the time mainly because I kept shouting "Ow, my back!", not "Ow, my nerves!" or "Ow, my collarbone!". It took even longer to start running again, and I'm still nowhere near back to the fitness I had before I bumped into that truck***.
But others aren't so lucky. Some people don't make a full recovery. Some people don't recover at all. Some people face daily struggles much worse than mine. It's easy to forget this.
I complain about the panicking when I swim in open water. I complain about the hypos when I cycle. I complain about the pain in my feet when I run. I complain a lot. Especially to my nearest and dearest. Especially to my loveli friend. My loveli friend who was in an accident when she was 9. My loveli friend who struggles to walk. My loveli friend who listens patiently to all my complaining, whinging and moaning about running, but who can't run herself.
I'm doing this triathlon for Aspire, and for my loveli friend. Aspirational Ami.
Ami and I are swimming the Channel for Aspire together. We started tonight in Hove.
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| Are we nearly there yet? |
* Yes, it was arcticulated - it was from Iceland.
** The cheesecake wasn't.
*** Although that's not saying much - my parkrun PB was a smidgen under 28 minutes.
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