The Folly (or not)

I signed up for Hawaii 70.3 in what feels like a long time ago. A few months later I signed up for the Tour de Force, and I contemplated dropping this half ironman race. It seemed a folly. It was far far away, it was so close to The Tour, it was going to cost a lot, it was going to be hot, it was an Ironman branded race (a brand I endeavour to support as little as possible). But a few of my close friends were racing. Plane tickets were purchased, I was going.

As my training for The Tour has progressed (or as it sometimes seems, not progressed!) the Hawaii decision has proven a good one. Training for The Tour scares the shit out of me, but I know how to train for long course triathlon. I drastically underestimated how hard winter in the UK would be for me (as mild as it was this year), or the emotional toll training without a squad would take.

The weekend before last I came home from the challenging Etape du Dales sportive emotionally battered and bruised. My love of the bike has been stretched, and I spent a too much of that nine hour ride questioning myself and my decision to do the tour.

In a way this was a small mission accomplished. One of my big reasons for signing up for such a challenging event as The Tour was to see what happened when I was stretched to breaking point. I envisaged that this would be a few weeks into the tour, after a stretch of hard riding, at the bottom of a big hill. Me throwing a tantrum, crying and not wanting to go any further. 

Instead I reached breaking point before The Tour even started. I was sick of the bike, sick of training and low on self belief, questioning who the hell I thought I was to attempt such a feat. Maybe a bigger breaking point awaits, but I'm pretty sure the life is a series of small stretching (not breaking) points that extend you a little further each time.

My week at work before flying out to Hawaii was pretty full on, and I was looking forward to seeing friends as the sun in Hawaii, whilst putting the race out of my mind. The spectre of (undefined) failure loomed large.

But this was no folly at all. It's the afternoon before the race and I feel energised and ready to go. I've spent the last few days in the sunshine amongst friends. I'm nervous as hell about tomorrow, it's going to be hot, probably windy and definitely hard. But it's going to be great. My love of triathlon and racing has been found again (even if I had to fly halfway around the world to find it), and hopefully it will be a little easier (and closer) to find next time I hit the wall.