Back in the saddle

I've been completely knocked out by a cold for the last week and completely avoiding my blog for the last month. Five days with no exercise. It's been quite a while since that's happened! Tonight I climbed back on Rocinante for a light 60 min spin during my Northern Exposure viewing in the hopes I might sweat the last of this cold right on out.

I remain unconvinced that my exercise alone is going to do the trick so I just added some NyQuil to the equation. I must type quickly now before coherent thought becomes an impossibility.

These five days have also provided me with an opportunity to really examine my whole triathlon quest. The first few days I was racked with guilt over the workouts I was missing, as though a few days without biking, swimming or running were going to land me back at square one after months of diligent work. As my cold continued to get worse and I began hurtling toward total despondency, the girlfriend stepped in with some sage words, "Baby, it's supposed to be fun."

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I choose to do this. Presumably, I choose to do it because I like it. No one makes me do it. I'm the only one who cares if I miss a workout - the only one who'd be crying on race day if I didn't cross that finish line. While my friends and family cheer me on, they only care about how I do because they know I care.

The question is, am I having fun crossing that finish line? And more importantly, am I having fun during the long quest that it takes to even reach the starting line?

Those workouts where you can feel your fitness building are definitely fun. Even the totally exhausting, pushed yourself a little too hard workouts are fun when they're over and I know I toughed it out. What isn't fun is the guilt whenever I miss one. So I'm saying to hell with the guilt.

If life gets in the way of a workout because I wanted to hang out late with friends or take advantage of some event in this wild, crazy city, then so be it. If it means I don't cross the finish line on race day, then I'll know it's because something else was more worth my while. If the only thing I can say about six months of my life is "I did a half Ironman" then that is NOT time well spent in my book. And I accept the consequences of that decision, with a smile on my face.