It's been a weekend, people.
First, there was the Open Water Swim on Saturday, where my fright levels were at (what I thought was) an all-time-high.
After which I went to the bike store, and bought a bike that you need SPECIAL SHOES to wear.
And took it home ... then out for a few crashes. That's when my fear levels reached new highs. I've known how to ride a bike now oh, for 45 years or so? And all of a sudden, I find out that not only can I no longer ride, but that I'm actually TERRIFIED of getting on the bike.
Take the open-water-swim fear, multiply by 1,000 and that's how scared I am of my purty new bike.
And my group had a ride scheduled at 9 a.m. this morning at Hain's point, a part of D.C. popular with cyclists, runners, golfers, fishers. Which means it's busy pretty much all of the time.
I told Number One Daughter I couldn't do it. I was pretty sure I'd have to take the bike back, it was impossible, I WOULD NEVER LEARN to clip in and out. The rest of the night I spent asking myself who was I kidding with this tri-stuff. I'm such a poser. Etc.
Way to pump yourself up!
So of course you all know the ending to this story, because you've read it here oh-so- many-times before. I went this morning, practically frozen with fear, got on the damn bike, clipped in, clipped out, and JUST. DID. IT.
Fifteen miles in 1 hour. And of course, you all also know exactly what I'm going to say next: That I loved it.
Maybe some of you don't know yet that I struggle with anxiety anyway, daily, just going to work, just living. I know it's very chi-chi these days to have "social anxiety" but I've had it for years, and it's a real thing.
So when I say that I'm afraid of something, I mean the I'm-having-a-panic-attack-and-can't-breathe kind of fear.
It ain't pretty.
Yet I keep putting myself in these positions of doing things that evoke exactly that response.
Why? And why, despite all my success stories, do YOU all know before I do that I'll really be OK?
Well, I guess we'd need to drag out the psychiatrist for the answer to that, cuz I dunno. The obvious answer is I have so little faith in myself.
Number One Daughter's BF asked me the other day if I pat myself on the back for any of my accomplishments, and I said, "What accomplishments?" Like seriously, I had no idea what he was talking about.
I guess that's one reason why I need to blog about what I've done. For ME. So that I can remember how scared I was and that I did it anyway and lived to tell the tale.
Maybe one day I'll learn.
(And yes, I'm totally thrilled that I went on this ride this morning. And stayed upright.)
I got some good stuff in the mail this week.
First, I got this:
Outside of card
Inside of card, which included three photos from last year's July 4th 5k, PLUS a pic of my bike, revealed it was from non other than D.C. Spinster!
When you have friends out there finding the Patron Saint of Bicyclists for you, you really have nothing to be afraid of! Thanks, Peter!
Next, I got this bag of WHITE POWDER in the mail:
No, not cocaine! It's protein powder! From 21st Century Mom!
Both 21st and little miss runner have been independently telling me about the virtues of protein powder for weeks now. So 21st sent me a sample, and I gotta tell you: This stuff is great. Blend it with fresh strawberries and soy milk, and you no longer want to gnaw off your arm mid-morning.
Bloggy friends rock.