…a runner. The thought flies through my head as I hit the interval button on the treadmill and bump the pace from jog to run. I feel my stride lengthen a bit to match the increased speed of the belt; I feel my feet pounding. There is nothing graceful about my “Barney Rubble” chunky up and down motion.
If I was a runner I’d be tall and thin. Well, at least thin. I would enjoy running outside, something I only do on a race day. I’d have gone through enough pairs of shoes to know when they need to be replaced; instead of complaining about sore knees before someone suggested I invest in a new pair. I’d tick off the miles with a sense of accomplishment, instead of intense relief that my 35 minute run is finally done. I’d run for the joy of running; not because it’s Thursday, and I run every Thursday after work.
I am not…
…a swimmer. I love the water, especially the ocean, in the context that it is the perfect backdrop for a beach. “Swimming” is just fine as long as I can touch bottom. I have always been able to keep my head above water, if I have to, and dog paddle my way to safety. Ultimately, learning to swim, really swim, was a means to an end. You have to swim a whole 200 meters, without stopping, to get an open water diving certification. That’s eight lengths of a 25-meter pool, starting at the shallow end and swimming across the deep end and back to the shallow end, 4 times!
If I was a swimmer I’d hit the pool every Sunday and swim lap after lap, settling into a nice rhythm. My left arm wouldn’t prematurely drop into the water before my right arm had completed its arc. My legs would propel me with a steady, minimal and effortless kick. I wouldn’t be aware of every single motion my body is making, every single breath, every single stroke. I’d be able to swim with confidence across open water without wearing a bouyant wetsuit.
I am not…
…a cyclist. I ride a bike. I always have. In fact, I taught myself with no adult assistance. On Tuesdays I get on a spin bike at the gym. The music propels the motion. I add more resistance; I move through the route with buckets of sweat pouring off my head and down my shirt. My legs burn and my heart rate adjusts with the effort.
If I was a cyclist I’d go for long rides outdoors. I’d have skin tight bike clothes with padding in all the right places. I’d wear expensive cycling shoes and disdain toe-clips. My cadence would not vary because my knowledge of when to shift gears would compensate appropriately. I’d be able to grab quick drinks of water without fear of falling over. I’d carry a spare inner tube and know how to change a blow out.
I am not…
…a gym rat. Yes, I do lift weights three times a week. I have a trainer keeping me on track and honest. I’m accountable to someone else because I can’t be accountable to myself. I’d slide back into my lazy ways, dragging Dan along. So I follow the worksheet, increasing the weight and reps at the prescribed intervals. I keep my training appointments. I fuss at the silly things I’m asked to do, but I do them.
If I was a gym rat I’d spend hours at the gym. I’d strut around lifting stupidly heavy things and making ridiculous noises. I’d camp at a weight machine like I owned it. I wouldn’t slink around hoping no one notices I’m there. I wouldn’t think about how incredibly awkward I look doing a ridiculous exercise called a burpee. I wouldn’t trip over a bench. I wouldn’t rip my headphones off with an errant swing of a weight. I’d know the names of all the regulars.
I am not…
…a quitter. I got into all of this because I wanted to learn to scuba dive. Diving is an incredibly lazy activity that expends a minimal amount of energy in order to conserve oxygen usage and extend underwater time. Low and behold, learning to swim, then lift and cycle and run made me feel so much better. And the effect on Dan’s health, as he joined me at the gym, was amazing. By the time we finally move to Key West we’ll be immortal.
If I was a quitter I’d have stopped exercising after passing that 200-meter swim test. I’d be 20 or 30 pounds heavier. I'd laugh at the idea of running only 5Ks and completing only sprint triathlons as settling for less. I wouldn’t have my third 10K race inked in for April, and an olympic distance triathlon inked in for August. I wouldn’t be thinking that a sprint triathlon at the end of summer would be a nice morning spent outdoors. I’d be sleeping late on Saturdays, eating weeknight dinners by 6:00PM and enjoying huge portions of bad food. I wouldn't have a DVR backlog of TV shows waiting for attention.
And this I can say with absolute certainty…
I am not…interested in running any kind of race that incorporates the word marathon…
