There aren't enough grains of sand in the day
Im not complaining, really. I enjoy my workouts, my trainer is an absolute legend (not to mention easy on the eyes) and I love my job - plus I work with lovely people who deal beautifully with my musical mood swings and ability to jump from Bowie to John Farnham within a 10 minute time frame) but I just don't seem to have any time for myself anymore. I mean, sure, there are the weekends, but by the time Im back from a two hour session - an hour with my trainer in the gym and an hour swim - Im pretty much toasted and all I want to do is crawl back into bed with a packet of Jaffa cakes, a hot chocolate and my newest copy of The Hobbit which I have been trying to finish reading for the last few MONTHS. Literally.
It has also come to my attention that many of my friends, colleagues and fellow bloggers are sadistic bastards. Why, you ask? Well, I have been asked more than once to blog about my training (jokes, I know you lot are trying to be supportive). But really, who wants to hear about my injuries, where my 5km running time stands at the moment and the different shades of bruises on my knees after interchanging sets of lunge thrusts and spider lifts? Not many of you, Im sure. There was even an obscene suggestion from a work colleague to have our in-house photographer tag along to one of my sessions and take 'animated shots' of me throughout. Umm, right. NO.
I am incredibly scared. I have moments of undeniable fear stricken panic, where I think to myself OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE YOU FOOL, but then I take a deep breath, step back and... oh, wait. I do think Im an idiot for doing this.
Even Macaulay thinks Im crazy
I am 3000 different kinds of worried. I mean, I've been running for months, and the running leg of the comp really is the last of my worries, but the swimming and the cycling have me, quite literally, pooping (its too early to say shit*ing) my pants. My swimming is fine. Its not strong and its not dismal. But this is the bloody Thames. In August. I asked my trainer the other day if I could just brave the water without a wetsuit as a simple cossie would give me better mobility. He said I'd end up a popsicle and sink to the bottom like a dead weight. Not to mention I probably don't want someone's Friday night sick all over me as I thrash through that water with 300 other people. Yes, sets of 300 that are released 2 minutes apart from each other. I'd probably end up rocking up to the end mark after the last group had arrived.
And then there's the cycling. Confession: I haven't cycled properly in years. Sure I've messed around with bikes before, but once again, this is a race. A 20km one round a circuit I have never seen before and will cycle amongst hundreds of others who are probably not even remotely concerned about two wheel transport.
Do you think I'd be allowed to ride this instead of a race bike?
There is a month to go. I know I will be ready, but right now, there is a sinking feeling in my gut about this endeavour and I just hope its last minute jitters. After all, I've gone into this without any previous race experience and Im really not the athlete everyone thinks me to be. Im merely trying to get through this race without rupturing a lung. So yea, that's all my rambling for now. Ill be back to Copenhagen dreaming and eco valley loving in the Dead Sea after this, I promise.