“There isn’t a way things should be. There’s just what happens, and what we do.“
Terry Pratchett
I recently had an enlightening moment after getting off my computer bound butt to stretch, that for most of my adult life I’ve focused and promoted my areas of weakness rather than my strengths. I’ve always been self deprecating, and also fairly pessimistic, and while I think part of that is a culturally (and celebrated) British trait, over the years it has had a negative impact on my self-esteem, my confidence, my mood and my personality.
An ever present internal voice chatters away at me from dawn until dusk; You should be 70lbs lighter. You should know how to do that, or more about it than you already do. You should be better with spending time with family and making friends. You should be an all round better person than this overweight desk-bound blob that works too long, eats poorly, drinks too much and sleeps badly. Why aren’t you?
You should be doing this. You should be doing that.
What I’m coming now to understand as my 40th birthday hurtles towards me like a well thrown rock, is that all of those “shoulds” can be turned into “coulds” with the right mindset, a little thought and a stubborn desire to change. And if there’s been one constant in my life that I think I’m more equipped with than most to handle, it’s change.
I’m completely oblivious as to the age at which a mid-life crisis is supposed to happen. So throwing caution to the wind (and as a lover of a good crisis in general), I’ve decided to put myself right in the middle of one, and sign up for the 2022 2XU Malibu Triathlon, in the hope turning myself from a be-er (hyphen is important there, though accurate without) into a do-er.
This blog will act as a sounding board to document my ‘from-scratch’ training as a 5”11 245lb waddler, into someone who is fit, carrying around less mass, and most importantly someone who is capable of completing the Classic distance race without drowning, being knocked off the PCH by a blow dried menace in a rented Testarossa (yes, my mental picture of Malibu will forever be stuck in the 1980s), or being photographed having a heart attack during the final stretch of the run and having my life’s footnote being turned into a depressingly morbid meme.
But there’s the negative voice again. I caught you.
This is not about the swim, the ride, or the run. It’s about Me vs. The Voice. And I’ve got 12 weeks and 2 days before race day to get it singing my praises.