Fighting the illusions of my own mind. Creations spun from twisted wreckages of the past. I am haunted.
Saturday was a struggle. If it hadn’t been for my plan to do the triathlon on Sunday, I might have succumbed to the darkness. Probably would have.
So I did it. My first triathlon.
It has been overcast the past few days. The heavy grey clouds seemingly immovable by the occasional gusts of wind. And the occasional spits of rain bringing the long yearned for coolness to the unforgivably hot weather throughout January. I’d been hoping it wouldn’t be too hot. I tend to wilt in extreme hot conditions, and my skin breaks out in all degrees of itchiness from sun exposure. So the day was perfect, really, for my first tri.
We started with the run, which is different, went onto the bike, and ended with the swim.
I’d borrowed a bike from a friend of a co-worker. It wasn’t an ideal racing bike – it was this heavy clunky mountain bike which squeaked – needed serious oiling, and cobwebby in places and I’d only picked it up that morning.
During the 15km bike course, my back ached from the back fracture I sustained in May last year. No matter how hard I push, I don’t think it will ever be the same again. I find that so difficult to accept.
Getting off the bike and jumping into the water was a bit of a shock. My thigh muscles were tight from the bike ride, and the fact that I couldn’t feel the bottom kinda freaked me out. I tried to remember the last time I was ever in the water – probably back in 1999/2000 when I was in Singapore, and I’d gone to the Pasir Ris resort with Jo (once or twice).
So I ended up swallowing a lot of water between my freestyle and breast stroke attempts. And when I got out of the water I felt like throwing up. But it was done. I’d done a triathlon. I wasn’t even among the last to finish. I was maybe 8 minutes behind K, which was as good as I could have hoped for.
I feel a sense of achievement. I’d certainly come a long way in 9 months.