For nearly
12 weeks, my coach has been laying out daily training workouts
for me to follow. I am 12 weeks into a training plan that, really, I have not
even started. Next week marks my first “official” week of Base 1, yet it feels
as though I should be in Base 3 by now. And for those of you who have no idea
what Base 1, 2, 3, then Build 1, 2, finally Peak, then race actually mean…I
don’t know either. Well, I kind of do, but I don’t. So much of the triathlon world
is rooted in lingo to which I’ve only been briefly exposed. For instance,
there’s swim lingo: overkicking and kicking in streamline, doing variables,
ladder drills, ascending and descending sets. Then there’s bike lingo: single
legs, fast pedals, tempos, and steady intervals. Even when you ask different
people about the meaning of different lingo, you get similar, but different
definitions of the lingo. I’ve resigned to accept the lingo, but not know the
lingo. Lingo, lingo, lingo. Lingo.
Perhaps the
biggest hurdle I’ve encountered is training with heart rate zones. It took me
about 4 weeks to realize I couldn’t outsmart the heart rate monitor. (I may be
a graduate student in a Doctor of Physical Therapy program, but don’t
underestimate the opportunity for serious inanity). No more running or cycling
balls-to-the-walls each time I mounted the saddle. No more pretending my effort
ranked a 3 on a Rate of Perceived Exertion (RPE) scale of 1 to 10 when it
actually scored more like a 7. No more kidding my body, my mind…or my coach. It
was like keeping a food journal: I’d gingerly type all of my workout
information into my training log—average heart rates included—and prepare to
hear that my effort was too hard this early in the season. I needed to exert
some self-control and practice patience in my training. I don’t practice
patience.
So now I
prepare to dominate a 20-week training plan in preparation for my 2012 season.
I am not a swimmer. I am not a cyclist. I am not a runner. I am a triathlete—or
maybe just aspire to be like one. My background resides primarily around
running, and while I’ve made noticeable gains in my swimming technique, I still
feel so far behind in my speed and consistency. The bike? I’m stuck on a
trainer dying to be outside tackling hills my dad taught me to love when he
first got me out on a road bike. I’m a perfectionist, and seeing so much need
for growth and improvement has me sitting on the edge of my seat, worried I’m
falling behind.
I realize
this is exactly why I have a coach. He afforded me two hours of his time
last night to answer all my questions and reassure me my progress was right on
track. In all honesty, I’ve never had a coach before to guide me through the
world of triathlon. So I don’t know if I’m just incredibly lucky or if this is
the norm. Either way, if anyone can teach me patience, it’ll be him. By the end
of 2012 I hope to confidently say that I am a triathlete. I am patiently
waiting for success.
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