And Here We Go...

The doubt sets in.

It was bound to happen; after all, one doesn't go from "I want to get to goal weight!" to "I want to compete in a triathlon!" without some ups and downs along the way.

Even though he's technically not my trainer anymore, M. the Reasonable Awesome is still advising me and offering support at every turn. A few days ago, we discussed my desire to train for a triathlon. I told him I figure Summer 2013 is a reasonable goal, and he nodded his head and grinned at me, which is M.-speak for "I agree completely!" I told him that my swimming is progressing--slowly, but it is progressing--but I still worry about one aspect of competing in a tri: swimming in a body of water that is not a swimming pool. It's a deep-rooted fear, and one that will take a lot to overcome. Currents and undertows scare the daylights out of me.

M. pointed out that the swim portion of a triathlon can also be terrifying at the start, from what he's heard, as everyone races in a pack into the water and starts kicking and flailing. (Oh, God.) He suggested I look into the Eppie's Great Race, a local tri that involves kayaking instead of swimming. My first thought was that I've never paddled anything more scary than a rubber air mattress in a swimming pool, followed by a rush of bravado. "Well, three years ago, you'd never run more than a quarter-mile without stopping, and look at you now," I thought to myself. Kayaking can't be that hard, right?

So this afternoon, I sat down and Googled Eppie's Great Race. Two minutes later, I shut down the tab and sat back in my chair, gazing wide-eyed at my computer and thinking, "Who the hell are you kidding? You can't do that!"

It's so easy for that fear and loathing to rush back in. The hardest part of training for a triathlon is not getting up and running, or jumping into the gym pool while a spa-full of older men looks on. The hardest part is believing that I'm doing all of this and getting a little bit closer to my goal. That a year from now I'll be ready, and able. Every time that stupid demon rears it's ugly head, I have two choices: I can cower in fear and let the demon convince me that this is impossible...or I can get up and pound that stupid demon into the ground with my Mizunos.

I choose a good pounding. I have not come as far as I have--eighty pounds gone and so much strength built--to let fear put me off of my goals. I tell people all the time that losing the weight, getting in better shape, learning to run--none of it was easy. Training for a tri won't be easy, either. Maybe that's why I'm doing it.

No one else doubts that I am capable of accomplishing this goal--least of all M. So here's an open statement to the demon:

Game. On.