Sunday would have been my triathlon. I thought I’d be upset that it got canceled, but I was quite relieved. I started training back in December and got more serious in February. I joined the gym for the first time in years so I could swim. I started running, despite hating it every single time. I lifted and biked and did crazy core things. I was the strongest I had ever been.
Then when the pandemic hit, I quickly replaced my training routine with a thousand excuses: the gym closed so no pool to swim in; it was too cold to swim in open water yet; there was too much rain to run or safely bike. (Not to mention the best reason/ non-excuse to take it easy: experiencing a fucking pandemic for the first and hopefully final time in my life).
But the whole point of training for the triathlon was never about winning the race. Yes, I wanted to complete it, but I learned so many more lessons along the way:
+ There’s a beautiful and delicate balance between strength and ease
+ Pushing until you feel pain is not only unnecessary but probably harmful
+ Forcing yourself to follow a strict workout regiment is not sustainable
+ Working 8-hour shifts on your feet while training means you need more rest than someone who sits at a desk
+ Recovery is so vital and there is no need for shame in allowing yourself to rest
+ Physical strength + mental resilience go hand in hand— one increases the other
So all of this to say… am I going to become a hard-core triathlete? Probably not. But I learned the value of gaining strength to feel better physically and mentally. I also learned to respect + honor my craving for rest and relaxation.