Everyone needs a foundation, and I don’t just mean in miles and yards. Triathlon training takes a lot out of a person physically, mentally and emotionally, so it’s a good idea to make sure that there’s plenty in there before seriously getting started. Not sure you have enough on some days? Don’t worry, training always puts back what it takes out of you – plus a little insurance for next time.

Part 1: Have Heart

It started last night on mile three in spite of my faith that modern medicine could stand up to such a lesson, and somehow impede it. This was, as I’ve discovered over the last 12 hours, bigger than a few painkillers. I found myself a little wiser afterwards, but it wasn’t until this morning in the pool that I really understood the meaning of the education I’d received and would receive.

I’ll start at the beginning.

Last night the returning sharp sensation in my knee began to make me angry. On a six-mile out and back I had a little rain, a beautiful sunset and no wind. I wanted to run. In a tangled attempt to realize this, an illogical argument about the dominance of self ensued between Mind and Body. They had already been going back and forth like brother and sister for weeks wrestling for control, and in the middle of their ridiculous tug-of-war, at mile three, I fell. They fell. Everything fell – even the sunset and the glowing clouds, all over top of me.

I sat there next to puddles of chaos, three miles from home, as Body and Mind exchanged blame: “Stupid knee!” “Watch where you’re going!” I wondered how long this would go on – this silly bickering. I thought about my upcoming half ironman, would they both still be fighting each other then? Why didn’t the damn Ibuprofen work? Maybe this was Body’s fault after all. Why was I so distracted chasing after sunsets? Mind, then, it was Mind. Man, I’d joined their war right there on the sidewalk; watching the streetlights change as everyone else got on with their lives.

My stopwatch hadn’t stopped. My time increased as quickly as my heart rate decreased, and though they were all just numbers that didn’t really mean anything there at the corner of get up or shut up, I spent a few more minutes staring at them. So much for my eight-minute pace to this point, 17, 18, 19, 20 …so much for the negative split I was on my way to accomplishing 21…22…23… No museum steps today. And that’s when I heard it.

“Gonna sit here all night then?”

I checked with Body and Mind, they were both as surprised as me, so much so that they laid down arms and actually listened.

“Well?”

So, I got up. I got up and was introduced to my first real lesson about pain on this journey to Steelhead. Pain is worse after you stop to contemplate quitting. It’s worse because it’s a different brand of pain that doesn’t even cut you any slack for gutting it out and getting up. It hurts deeper and longer, a barking reminder about how much more you’ll suffer if you ever stop to consider giving up on yourself like that again. And from this point there’s really nowhere to go but forward because you know what happens if you stop.

A wave of fear and panic washed over me because this really, really hurt. I wondered if I’d completely blown out my knee, what about my race next weekend? What about the marathon in June? What ab –

“Hey, concentrate on your calf muscle.”

Wh -?

“Concentrate on your calf muscle.”

Body and Mind looked at each other and shrugged. OK…step, flex, step, flex…

And my knee started to cooperate. I couldn’t believe it. Though, after a few minutes it screamed again and this time the calf muscle trick didn’t work.

“Ball of your foot.”

That worked for a little while, but soon I’d used up all my magic tricks. Body and Mind started to lose it again and bicker about blame. The voice I heard next wasn’t so calm and rational this time.

“COME ON!!! KNOCK IT OFF AND DO YOUR JOB!!!”

step…flex…step…flex…ball of the foot…

And on mile five the pain was almost gone. I got to my front door and felt like I’d won a war, and I had, albeit inside myself. I spent the rest of the night getting acquainted with Heart, who had come to everyone’s rescue under the streetlight and down the broken sidewalk.

Part 2: Other People’s Bubbles

I couldn’t run this morning. I’d planned to I suppose, however vague it may have been amongst the drama of the evening. But Mind remembered, having heard the whip crack from Heart earlier, and woke everyone up at 2:19 this morning to take Ibuprofen.

The next two hours were in and out of sleep. I don’t remember which things I dreamt, and which things were waking thoughts, but somewhere in those two hours we all decided that I wouldn’t be running this morning. The alarm went off several times and I finally got out of bed, didn’t even change my clothes, and drove to the pool.

I was half depressed for not running and half fine because at least I would be doing the swimming part of the intended brick. I arrived, changed, and got into the cold water that is always colder if I don’t run. Today I wondered if that was my punishment for not at least attempting the run this morning. I didn’t care, really. I just felt bad and I wasn’t sure why.

50 after 50 I tried to figure out what was causing this melancholy feeling. Did I really somehow feel guilty about being hurt or tired? I got myself home last night didn’t I?

Nothing I said to myself worked.

About 400 yards into the swim my knee started to hurt beyond the ache that wished me a good morning. I felt that anger pang return. A few seconds later I accidentally swam through the wave of one of my swim partners, and caught off guard, inhaled it. The anger pang grew and I sped up to avoid a repeat of the situation, but to no avail. I inhaled so much water this morning that I think I now have chlorine in my veins.

I became angrier and angrier every time I had to interrupt my stroke to choke out the water, but there was nothing from Mind and nothing from Body about it. I think they were content to be good little hamsters in their wheels after the thrashing they received the night before. To my surprise, I had only tangled emotions with me in the pool this morning. Impatience, anger, frustration, fear, drive and hope, they all took up a lot of room and weighed me down; not the best suit to wear in the water.

I told myself that I had no time for this. I needed to keep going, but I didn’t really want to, and that’s when it all came out. I couldn’t find my reason for all of this training, all of this up early everyday, and injuries just as I’m making progress, I was angry. Not having a specific reason made me angry. I’ve always thought that I just wanted to realize my potential, but I discovered this morning that I wanted a more specific reason… and that I had no answers.

Just then my swim partner reached the wall before I did, and flip-turned a tornado of bubbles that crashed into my face, then laughed all along my lagging body. I felt a heat start inside of me again and didn’t understand it - again. I just knew that I needed to swim harder because I hated the feeling of other people’s bubbles.

“Time to get out, that’s all you needed to see today.”

I listened. Finally, I listened. I guess I knew that was the first piece of my answer, so I left the other 1200 yards in the pool and limped back to the locker room. I didn’t feel guilty or weak. I realized that I wasn’t a quitter and this wasn’t the end.

I’d only just begun this journey.