Acclimated
I believe that things are starting to turn a corner. Tomorrow is SEBA #2, and I'm feeling good about it. It's supposed to be humid as all hell out there again, but for some reason I think that it's going to be OK.
I think that I'm going to be OK.
Maybe it came in with the torrential storms over the weekend, I don't know, but the air is different around here. It's not tense or chaotic or freaked out, it's charged and pulsing, and I really feel like I can do this now. I can almost see it, and I'm starting to feel ready.
I've learned so much from all of this. I've learned what it's like to be tossed around by the freezing waves that always seem to growl at me from the edge of the pier. I've learned that they're all the same, that they get so big and then they fall down, and that they all fall down eventually no matter how big they get. From a distance they look like such big seamonsters, but up close, they hit you and fall apart because that's all they are and that's all they can do. Rise up and fall down and fall apart, and I'm just not afraid of them anymore.
I can fathom sitting in a saddle for three-and-a-half hours now that I know that moving half an inch changes everything, that hills are hills, and that I have enough swear words in my vocabulary to get me up the vast majority of them. I've learned that everything feels better after 10 minutes, and that after 40 miles everything seems a lot quieter, that the colors are more saturated, and that most places are really beautiful in their own way. I've learned that powerbites taste like barf after 45 miles, and that for some reason I really don't care.
With the seamonsters slain and the bike mileage put into perspective, I've learned that the humidity on the run was really the last of my great monsters. Come to think of it, I think that it's actually been stalking me for a while - ever since the marathon. It stole an hour from me there, and looking back, my run training has really been sparse since finishing that thing. Heh - I guess that it scared me off of the street. Wow, and I didn't even realize it until now. But you know what, the other day it didn't phase me. Even my socks were drenched and I wasn't hurting at all. Man, did I really cross?
After a while I suppose that the cold water isn't the one that changes - you just acclimate.
I think that I'm going to be OK.
Maybe it came in with the torrential storms over the weekend, I don't know, but the air is different around here. It's not tense or chaotic or freaked out, it's charged and pulsing, and I really feel like I can do this now. I can almost see it, and I'm starting to feel ready.
I've learned so much from all of this. I've learned what it's like to be tossed around by the freezing waves that always seem to growl at me from the edge of the pier. I've learned that they're all the same, that they get so big and then they fall down, and that they all fall down eventually no matter how big they get. From a distance they look like such big seamonsters, but up close, they hit you and fall apart because that's all they are and that's all they can do. Rise up and fall down and fall apart, and I'm just not afraid of them anymore. I can fathom sitting in a saddle for three-and-a-half hours now that I know that moving half an inch changes everything, that hills are hills, and that I have enough swear words in my vocabulary to get me up the vast majority of them. I've learned that everything feels better after 10 minutes, and that after 40 miles everything seems a lot quieter, that the colors are more saturated, and that most places are really beautiful in their own way. I've learned that powerbites taste like barf after 45 miles, and that for some reason I really don't care.
With the seamonsters slain and the bike mileage put into perspective, I've learned that the humidity on the run was really the last of my great monsters. Come to think of it, I think that it's actually been stalking me for a while - ever since the marathon. It stole an hour from me there, and looking back, my run training has really been sparse since finishing that thing. Heh - I guess that it scared me off of the street. Wow, and I didn't even realize it until now. But you know what, the other day it didn't phase me. Even my socks were drenched and I wasn't hurting at all. Man, did I really cross?
After a while I suppose that the cold water isn't the one that changes - you just acclimate.
posted by Wil at 9:24 AM
10 Comments:
Super cool post...as always.
Good luck on the training tomorrow. What's the plan? Swim bike again? Or a longer run mixed in?
"...I have enough swear words in my vocabulary to get me up the vast majority of them." I love this line.
There you go! Bring it on.
The seamonsters are slain...you'll fly my girl!!!
there you go with that freakin' camera crew following you again. you must have your own personal paparazzi!
Good for you... I have only one swear word for hills, winds, rain, etc. I need to get more creative!
acclimation usually = successful survival. you are so ready.
I can totally tell you're in that zone... that place where you've experienced just about every condition that could possibly be thrown at you and you've battled through and come out a stronger person on the other side. You're going to do awesome at Steelhead!
Good luck at SEBA #2 tomorrow!! Can't wait to read all about it!
Yep, the swear words are essential! and so is the ability to be able to choke down those nasty bars, gels, or whatever past hour three or four. Damned! why do those things start tasing so nasty? Of course I've had friends almost have to cram apple slices (which I love,) pear slices (nice and juicy,) into me on hundred mile rides when my body and mind wanted to refuse ANYTHING AS CRAP, no matter how good it usually tastes.
We who do this stuff, Wil, my friend, are pretty strange creatures!
Hey, but we're not boring!!.... well, at least until we start geeking out about gear, splits, laps, downhills, climbs, etc.
:)
GodSpeed, as always!
very unique perspective
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