Today, 3 days before...
*ahem* The Triathlon
We finally did a little bit of everything training... including transitions. Alright, basically we sucked it up and did the lake swim.
Trying to get organized at lunch was a gong show, but we managed... you sure need a lot of stuff for this event!
Three minutes from the lake, and I'm psyching myself up for how cold I think the swim is going to be. Couple deep breaths... a little cajoling, c'mon you're Canadian what's a little cold water with a wet suit on? You've swum in the Pacific on boxing day!
It was perfect, we were able to park right on the beach, suit up... give each other that little bit of moral co-motivation, co-inspiration and uh a couple other words that end in 'ation'... and we were doing *it*.
Second step into the lake, and it is feeling fairly frigid... then it hit my wetsuit at mid-thigh and it wasn't nearly so bad. A few more steps and my wetsuit that I've owned since highschool is letting cold water in at the seams... I can feel it very distinctly. Every single stitch hole.
One last look at each other, with the taunt "Well? Are we going to swim or not?!?" and I dive in...
I'm pretty sure that my lungs come with very specific instructions, and that they say "Do not immerse in cold water. Ever." But they've long since been lost, and this wasn't cold water that was sneaking in the holes in my wetsuit, this was zillions of tiny frozen needles that were attacking me... aggressively.
I'm pretty sure my lungs are the biggest wusses ever, because they shrunk at least three sizes trying to hide from that frigid water. My brain initiated an emergency shut down immediately regressed to glacial swimming instincts: Get in. Get out. With a little luck it's enough to rinse the soap off.
With my decreased lung and brain capacity, I started hyperventilating and broke into a sprint swim. For the endless 10 seconds it took me to regain control of my senses. I waited for Michelle to catch up, and then alternated between repressing the urge to hyperventilate, and mediating the fight between my desire to practice swimming normally and my brains trying to avoid a brain freeze by staying as far out of that frigid water as possible.
First swim? Epic fail.
Awesome? Not doing it for the first time on race day.
*ahem*
We finally did a little bit of everything training... including transitions. Alright, basically we sucked it up and did the lake swim.
Trying to get organized at lunch was a gong show, but we managed... you sure need a lot of stuff for this event!
Three minutes from the lake, and I'm psyching myself up for how cold I think the swim is going to be. Couple deep breaths... a little cajoling, c'mon you're Canadian what's a little cold water with a wet suit on? You've swum in the Pacific on boxing day!
It was perfect, we were able to park right on the beach, suit up... give each other that little bit of moral co-motivation, co-inspiration and uh a couple other words that end in 'ation'... and we were doing *it*.
Second step into the lake, and it is feeling fairly frigid... then it hit my wetsuit at mid-thigh and it wasn't nearly so bad. A few more steps and my wetsuit that I've owned since highschool is letting cold water in at the seams... I can feel it very distinctly. Every single stitch hole.
One last look at each other, with the taunt "Well? Are we going to swim or not?!?" and I dive in...
I'm pretty sure that my lungs come with very specific instructions, and that they say "Do not immerse in cold water. Ever." But they've long since been lost, and this wasn't cold water that was sneaking in the holes in my wetsuit, this was zillions of tiny frozen needles that were attacking me... aggressively.
I'm pretty sure my lungs are the biggest wusses ever, because they shrunk at least three sizes trying to hide from that frigid water. My brain initiated an emergency shut down immediately regressed to glacial swimming instincts: Get in. Get out. With a little luck it's enough to rinse the soap off.
With my decreased lung and brain capacity, I started hyperventilating and broke into a sprint swim. For the endless 10 seconds it took me to regain control of my senses. I waited for Michelle to catch up, and then alternated between repressing the urge to hyperventilate, and mediating the fight between my desire to practice swimming normally and my brains trying to avoid a brain freeze by staying as far out of that frigid water as possible.
First swim? Epic fail.
Awesome? Not doing it for the first time on race day.
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