Losing a little steam

My recent admission that I’m training for another 50k has sparked a few questions regarding my love for triathlon.

I still love triathlon, we just need a little space right now. The thing about triathlon that I love is the mental gymnastics required-to fit in the training, to race each discipline well, to remember all the gear/stuff needed for a race. To me, the thrill of a race isn’t just the competition, it’s the chance to put together three separate efforts into one beautiful performance. You go into race day and you’re asking your body to assemble the best swim workout you’ve had with the best bike effort and the best run effort. It doesn’t always come together, but when it does, it’s pretty great.

The thing about triathlon that I hate is the mental gymnastics.

Lately, the effort to fit in all the training required has felt like a toll. I’ve been doing 2 big workouts per day for at least 4 years. I used to thrive on the logistics of it. Waking up and figuring out what time to get a swim done and which playground the kids would choose that had a track around it, etc. But the past couple weeks I’ve felt a little…tired.

The way my race schedule falls this year is the perfect excuse for a mid-season break. I had 2 races close together in May and I don’t race again until the end of August. I’ll still fit my 5 Kinetic Cup requirements in! So I’m looking forward to spending this summer on the trails in the mountains, at the creek with the kids, and everywhere in between.

I do want to highlight something super cool from my last race. The kids and I spent the weekend camping as this one was hosted at a state park. My son wanted to volunteer like he’s done in the past, handing out medals at the finish line. He got up super early with me, helped me carry my bags and helmet and we walked from our campsite down to the lake.

Many vendors and sponsors come and set up tents at these events. There are a lot of coaches, stores, bike shops and they all want to advertise. My favorite tent though, is one called Midas. The same woman comes to every race and sets up her coffee booth. I’ve seen her so many times throughout the years that we’ve established a bit of a friendship. She’s from Brazil, she sources and roasts her own amazing coffee and she competes in triathlon.

She combines my two favorite things, coffee + triathlon, and made it a life! Her coffee is incredibly good too. She’s started selling bags of beans at races and I’d like to take credit for that as I’m probably her biggest customer. I saw her at the first race this year and she said, “I’ve been looking for you! I have two different types of light roast for you to try! Where are your children? The little blondes?”

Link to their website below:

Even when I’m at my most tired, it’s the community of sport that keeps me coming back. As a lover of puns and creativity I also deeply appreciate the logo, it’s an M with a coffee bean in the middle. I don’t think she actually owns the business, I can tell there are others involved, but she’s the face of the company to me!

She arrived a tad late at my last race, I only had 10 minutes until the start but I saw her put her tent up and ran over to get myself a cup. I then sat with my son on the picnic bench looking over the water and watched people dance around getting themselves ready. It was this point that he said, “mom, I kinda wish you weren’t racing. I still want to be here doing this. But I kinda wish we could just sit together for a while. You drink your coffee and we watch the race together.”

“Me too, bud.”

I honestly meant it. But I came there to do a hard thing, so I did it. I got to see him at the finish and get my medal and he insisted on staying for another hour while I went back to shower and change because the other volunteers “needed him and his job was important.” I love his good work ethic and commitment.

I finished 4th overall, which is a decent position but I was a tad disappointed because I thought I was third when I crossed the line. Apparently a woman started behind me and was faster, by 1 minute! I don’t mind getting 4th, I just want people in front if they’re going to beat me. It sort of broke my spirit for a little while.

We had a great weekend camping though, and a sweet friend of mine came along and lifted our spirits in every way. She brought lots of energy and positivity, which are two things you really need when you’re sleeping rough and eating over a fire. She was walking around singing, “whatchu know about me, whatchu know about me-” and my youngest said, “I know you’re always singing and you really love Jesus.” As she said, that was the nicest compliment she’s ever gotten!

We didn’t actually sleep all that rough. This time I rented a camping cabin, I expected it to be pretty rustic, but look how cute! Two bunk beds, decent space, a table, 4 walls and a roof. To my kids’ dismay I may never go back to a tent again!

We were all sad to say goodbye to our little home.

I should have titled this post: Transitioning Steam. I’ll still be swimming, biking and running; I’m just going to focus more time on running and being outside in the woods looking for those snakes!

This week Remy and I snuck out for an early morning run at a flat trail near the house. The most exciting part was the drive home, we saw this huge snapping turtle on the side of the road! I had my friend’s kiddos in the car and I made them hop out to look at him. I was talking to myself, “what are you doing out here big guy?” One of the sweet kids said, “he’s obviously waiting for the right time to cross the road!”

He’s going to be there for a while!

I also saw this little box turtle and when I showed the kids they said, “that’s the one we found in our woods! His name is Wilder! Wow he’s traveled so far.”

Who knows, maybe it is, I sure wasn’t going to crush their hopes.

I also saw a buck with soft, felt antlers the other day. I couldn’t get a picture because I was too busy throwing myself on top of Remy to keep him from charging it. We don’t need him going after something that can actually fight back.

This root in the middle of the tan mud sure looked like a snake to me when I ran past it. In my head there is a constant monologue and I had to interrupt myself to say, “whoop not a snake not a snake,” then continue my rambling.