I donít normally like to do autobiographical-type stuff on the old website, but Iíll make an exception for near-death experiences or other silly things that could possibly be of interest to people who arenít me.
Iím training for the La Quinta Triathlon in April, an event Iím doing with friend Ilana whoís flying in from Minneapolis for the occasion. Why am I doing this? Call it a last-hurrah to the Phase 4 Exercise Gods before I call my lifeís athletic goals completed and withdraw of into a life of languid crapulence.
For anyone who doesnít know better, a triathlon involves a combined effort of swimming, running and biking Ė in this case swimming 3/4 of a mile, biking 25 miles and then running 6 miles. Itíll take about as long as a marathon, but the strain is spread out over three events, so Iím anticipating it not being quite as difficult overall. Nevertheless, there will need to be some training involved.
Two weeks ago I outlined a rigorous training schedule that would undoubtedly propel me toward success come April 18th. The problem Ė I seem to have lost my rigor. Last fall I was super gung-ho about training for the Providence Marathon, due to a combination of things:
1) Determination to undue my atrophied muscles after the Roadtrip
2) A fear that I might not otherwise make it and drop dead around mile 22
3) The fact that I really didnít have anything better to do
But something has different now. I'm finding I'd rather not spend quite so much time training this time around, a phenomenon I blame on three factors:
1) I'm a little busier
2) Sadly I'm a bit on my high horse since doing that marathon
3) Exercise is hard
So I made a deal with myself. If I could run most/all of a triathlon NOW, to prove that I could do it, Iíd relax my training regiment into a much more manageable schedule (read: lazy). So thatís what I set out to do today. I biked down the ocean and battled the waves for 1/2 a mile, drinking a lot of salt water in the process. Then I got back on the peddles and biked to Compton, aiming to do the whole 25 biking miles. It was actually more like 30 because I got lost. Then finally I got back to Redondo and jogged 4 miles. The whole thing took me about 4 hours.
So hereís the interesting part (I promised there would be one). By the time I got back from biking I was pretty beat and wanted to just stop, but 8 weeks of slacking was on the line. So I made another deal with myself. If I could make it the McDonaldís 2 miles from my house*, I could buy anything I wanted and eat it on the way back. So there I was, sweaty and pooped after 230 minutes of exercise, buying two double-cheeseburgers and two Apple pies. Loviní the dollar menu. I made it home with energy to spare Ė those 600 grams of saturated fat really give you a turbo-boost on the home stretch.
Sam and I are doing a character grid for the screenplay we're writing, on which one of the questions is "What is this person's biggest living contradiction?" I guess this is one of those.
* - There are actually no less than three McDonaldsí closer to my house than 2 miles, but I had to push myself. You know. Eye of the tiger.