part 1 The Training

It was a great aunt-nephew bonding experience.

I’m in New York, he’s in Boston.  I’m a 51-year-old writer and fitness pro, he’s a busy 17-year-old high school senior.  In June I suggested we do our first triathlon together, and choose the September Hyannis Sprint as the perfect ‘starter’ tri: beautiful spot, not too many people (1000 max.), plenty of time to train, and most crucially, manageable.  Yes – we still had to negotiate three sports in a row, an ocean swim with bodies all around us (no-joke proprioception), and the newness of ‘the transition’.  But it was doable, with the swim a sober ¼ mile, the cycle 10 miles, and a 3.5 mile run.

We were not doing this for speed, or placement, or ranking.  Our goal was to race together, to complete the event with reasonable efficiency and without injury; to have fun.

Jeremy is athletic and on the Track team so running is his strong point.  He cycles.  Like most triathletes swimming is his weak link so I advised him to practice, and we worked out how many laps equaled ¼ mile in his local pool.  I on the other hand am a strong swimmer, and with my non-slick hybrid bike enter gung-ho into a training schedule, swimming or biking or running each day, with twice/weekly strength training focused on tri-specific movement, and a day for rest and recovery.   I bow once again to the genius of Joe Friel.

I dive deeper into food and fuel.  I discover glucose-filled dates as natural energy and coconut oil as lubrication with its medium-chain, quickly-digestible triglycerides.  I buy an even bigger tub of protein powder.  I wonder about alcohol and its effect on my training. 

Week five I go overboard and hurt myself, I think during an endorphin-rush-run when I launch into speed/lateral drills and backward running. The knee pain is intense and it hurts to walk.  The orthopedist did his manipulations, took x-rays, said it didn’t seem serious and nothing obvious was broken.  Yes, it could be a meniscal tear and one could MRI it but we agreed it could also be inflammation, so I stopped running, swam and cycled with care, and monitored how I felt.  

Two weeks before the race Jeremy and I do practice ocean swims.  I bring him a new pair of good goggles to replace his cheapo pair. We wear (borrowed) triathlon wetsuits for the first time, the water is 63 degrees and bloody freezing, but after the initial shock it’s great to swim and feel the challenge of the current.  We are seriously pumped.

One week before the race I nervously do my first run in five weeks – a three-miler – to be sure that I can.  It feels great to pound the pavement again.  Nothing hurts.  I am thrilled.  I thank the Fitness God for muscle memory.

The night before the race we pick up our packets, and organize that Jeremy will swim with my age wave, #11, which I take as a good-luck sign and which he is perfectly happy to do.  We eat a carbohydrate-loaded pasta meal with veg and protein.  I read that several Ironmen drink beer the night before their race, so I have wine with dinner.

Before we go to our respective bedrooms, Jeremy turns to me with a fist pump and says “Let’s Do This.”

NEXT BLOG POST:  Race Day