The World of Dragonfly

Today was an incredibly glorious day, one made for running.  So run I did.  Today was interval training.  Forty-five minutes of hard work.  And during one of those recovery periods where I walked to bring down my heart rate, I started thinking.  If people asked me why I do triathlons and put myself through what some would term hell, what would I tell them?  Well, as you can imagine, that got me thinking.  What, exactly, would I say?  I think it boils down to four things.

I do triathlons because I want to get into shape. Well, that’s kind of a “duh” reason, but I do think it’s a big one.  Triathlons are swims, bikes, and runs.  The lengths vary depending on the type of race (sprint vs. Olympic vs. Half-Ironman).  So the training makes me use different muscle groups.  But also, I’m not one who likes to be on strict diets, and the exercise allows me to eat a little more freely than I could if I did no exercise at all.

I do triathlons because I like doing things that many people don’t. This was an especially interesting thing to learn last year when I was the last finisher (no, not last place) at the 36 North Triathlon last year.  I kept lamenting on how poorly I felt I did until my good friend gently admonished, “Hey, look at it this way.  You did something that not a lot of people can do.”  That’s true.  It’s a unique adventure.  And one that, for a number of reasons, a lot of people can’t or choose not to do.  I like unique adventures like this or hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

I do triathlons because I want to be an encouragement to others. I’m no fish, race car, or cheetah, yet I still participate in triathlons.  It’s a sport where speed is not a necessity, even when those who are totally into the $3,000 bikes with the cool wheels and light frames think so.  No, if you have a swimsuit, a bike, and a decent pair of running shoes, triathlons are possible.  And for those women out there who think it’s beyond your reach, I dare say that it isn’t.  Several races are now for women only and serve as a great introduction to the sport.  For those in the Carolinas or Virginia, check out Dash for Divas.  If you can swim 250 meters, bike seven miles on flat ground, and run two miles on flat ground, then most likely, you can do this event.  I would love to see Olympic-distance triathlon participation one day be more then the current one-third women.

I do triathlons because it toughens me mentally. This may seem strange to some people, but I can tell you that while triathlons do require physical training, it is also a sport that is at least half mental.  Case in point.  Last year, I competed in the 36 North (yes, where I finished last).  When I finished the bike part in second-to-last place, I wanted to quit.  I so wanted to quit.  My husband was right there, encouraging me, offering to run with me even though he’d already run a 5k when he finished his own race.  I told him tonight that I was glad I didn’t quit.  So, I do triathlons because there will be times in my life where I do want to quit whatever race God puts me in.  It could be the loss of a job.  An illness in the family.  A medical diagnosis.  Or, insert your own crisis.  In these events, the temptation to curl up and quit life in some form or fashion is high.  But to truly live instead of just survive requires a mental toughness to endure.  So, perhaps, that’s one of the biggest reasons why I do triathlons.

So if someone ever asks me why, I’ll simply point them to this post.  And whatever you do, think about the reasons behind it.  Then you too can explain why you do what you do.

Have you ever had an experience in your life-call it a setback-that you found difficult to work through?  Most people have.  After all, if you live long enough, adversity does show up in your life.  Well, I want to share mine, not just to discuss my life but also to encourage you if you’re going through a challenge in your life as well.  So let me set the stage for you.

It all began almost five years ago.  When we lived at our old house, there was a hook for hanging plants between the garage and porch.  It was a spring day.  I’d potted a nice hanging basket of petunias and was stretching way out to hang it on the hook (rather than breaking down and finding a stool).  Pain seared my middle, and I found I had to sit down on the steps and wrap my arms around my stomach.  I knew I’d probably torn a muscle.  I just didn’t realize how badly.  Gradually, it dissipated, and I went on about my business, including exercising.

Fast forward four years or so to 2009.  It’d been a busy summer.  Moving.  Training hard for triathlons.  I’d completed two that summer and was in probably the best shape of my life.  Until December when I decided to do crunches on an exercise ball at the gym.  Well, the next thing I knew, I had pain in my middle.  Thinking it was something like a gall bladder attack, I went to the doctor.  The PA recommended an ultrasound, which showed that nothing was wrong.  ”So what do you think it is?” I asked.  She thought it was a muscle tear and recommended that I simply let it rest.

I did.  Yet the tenderness never really went away.  Each time I worked out, it flared until one hot day in June this past year, I actually had to stop cycling to let what I thought was a stitch in my side subside.  The one triathlon I completed was awful.  Finally, I returned to the doctor, who asked a myriad of questions.  Then it happened.  He admitted I’d stumped him and sent me to physical therapy.

I must say that physical therapy was one of the best things that happened to me last summer.  It didn’t take long for B (yes, that’s what he told me to call him) to diagnose that I’d suffered from a torn hip flexor muscle.  It’s the muscle that starts at the top of the thigh.  It wraps around the core and splits, with part of it attaching to the inner back part of the pelvis and the other part wrapping further around the core and attaching to the spine.  My leaning several years before had torn it, and scar tissue had formed.  My exercising had inflamed it.

Unfortunately, while in therapy, I couldn’t exercise.  It didn’t help that last summer was extremely stressful.  I have to admit I was a basket who went completely out of shape and gained weight in the process.  When I received the go-ahead from B to begin exercising, I was ecstatic.

So why am I writing about this?  I want to set the stage for what I hope will be a way to trace my comeback to physical fitness and ultimately (I hope) to running an Olympic distance triathlon in September.  I’ll periodically update everyone here.  God willing, I truly will accomplish that goal.  I hope tracing my experiences will also serve as a source of encouragement as well.  Stay tuned for the next installment.

10.  Take it easy after not working out after awhile, especially after being sick.  No point in running 4 miles if you can barely do 2.5.

9.  Advil is good, especially after running.

8.  Chocolate milk is even better.

7.  Eating right and getting enough sleep are equally as important.

6.  Beware of goose gangs if running, especially when fields are nearby.

5.  It’s fun to be in pain (usually).  It’s even more fun when you’re done and see how much you’ve accomplished.

4.  The best part of a workout is the shower afterwards.

3.  Chocolate milk is really yummy.

2.  Working out encourages great sleep.

1.  Have fun!  Working out should indeed be fun, so pick an activity that’s enjoyable.

Spring is a beautiful time where I live.  The grass is green.  The flowers are out.  The temperatures are moderate.  And the geese are plentiful.  If you’re a Canadian goose, why spend all of your life and energy flapping your wings in a desperate attempt to get from place to place when you can winter over in a place such as North Carolina?  Raleigh is filled with them, and they leave plenty of evidence behind such as goose poo.

Now, nesting time is upon us.  There’s a nest across the major road from where we live.  And where there’s nests, there’s geese.  Now, I’m not sure if the goose I encountered tonight was the dad/mom belonging to said nest.  All I know is that the pups and I were coming back from a long, long walk.  We were tired, hungry, and simply wanting to get back before it was too dark.

Until we met The Goose.

Now, The Goose was sitting in the utility strip between the road and the sidewalk as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  Problem was, The Goose was essentially blocking our way.  There wasn’t a good way around him.  It was either go out into the street where we’d get hit or way into the grass, which was wet from a recent storm.

The Goose saw us.  Stood up.  Started sticking his tongue out, hissing at us, and bobbing his head up and down in typical goose aggression style.  It would have been comical had I not known from experience that if a goose bites you, it hurts!

Then Wallace goes bananas.  Keep in mind that The Goose is as big as he was, meaning that he was bigger (and nastier) than Wallace.  Then he started acting like he was going to charge use.  All I could see in my mind is the goose charging, nipping Wallace, and Wallace, gentle boy that he is, biting back.  It would have been an all-out bloodbath that Wallace would probably win.

I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, even The Goose.  So I did what I thought I needed to.  I jumped.  Landed loudly on both of my feet.  Sounded like splat!  The Goose jumped, so I did it again.  Then I started trying to edge past.

We repeated the whole thing.  Finally, we managed to worm by him.  But as we were vacating the area (and quickly, I might add), he came after us again!  So I used the jump/splat technique once more.  Finally, success!  The Goose left us alone, and we were on our merry way home to dine, thankful that-at least today, we were safely out of goosing range.