Jen's Column / Triathlon

This column is coming from a desperate woman.

My friend Lisa has been training for a triathlon — a swim/bike/run race — for months. She's taken swimming lessons to perfect her stroke. Has dusted off her bike and hit the trails. Has laced up her running shoes.

The problem? Apparently I told her I'd do the race with her. And tonight, as I sit down with a bowl full of jelly bellies and a body that hasn't seen any exercise since a 5K in October, I'm wondering why I ever agreed to such a thing.

I mean, athletes do triathlons. Not people like me who played the violin in high school and joined the golf team in lieu of a sport requiring exertion.

It's safe to say I'm in denial. The only preparation I've done for next summer's race is to search for one online. From what I can gather, a standard sprint ("short") distance triathlon is roughly a half-mile swim followed by a 15 – 20 mile bike ride followed by a 3-mile run. When I imagine myself attempting these distances back-to-back, I'm about 30 seconds away from calling Lisa to say, "Yah, about that triathlon? Changed my mind. I don't want to do it anymore."

Except that I do.

Because how good would it feel to finish that race? To set such a positive example for my kids? To add "triathlon" to my list of life accomplishments?

Plus, there's the matter of Wendy. Wendy is my neighbor. My neighbor who flew to Arizona last month to compete in her first Ironman Triathlon, a grueling 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike and 26.2-mile run. I opened my big mouth and told Wendy I was going to do a triathlon, too. And, well, that's just too much face to lose.

Also, when Wendy got back from the Ironman, she said, as matter-of-factly as if she were dictating her grocery list, "Anybody can do a triathlon. You just have to want to."

And in that moment, I believed her. Wholeheartedly.

The truth is the distance between wanting something bad enough and doing it really isn't that long. I've already proven this to myself. A few years ago, I couldn't run two blocks without stopping. (You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.) Then, last spring, I ran my first half-marathon.

If you really want to do something, you can make it happen.

And so my first hurdle is deciding, at last, that I'm really going to do this — that I want to train for a triathlon. That it's time to get serious.

And, boy, do I need to get serious. For starters, I can't swim. I mean, I can swim — just not more than a lap. And I can only do that with a sidestroke.

Also, I haven't ridden a bike in three years. My bike — a 14-year-old mountain bike with a flat tire — hasn't even made it down from the rafters in the garage since '05. When my boys go on a neighborhood bike ride, I throw on my inline skates and trail behind them hollering, "Wait up for Mommy!"

So I have some things to do. And writing this column is one way of ensuring I do them. This is where you come in. If I tell you that I'm doing a triathlon, I have to do it, right? You'll hold me accountable?

It's also my way of recruiting more people to suffer (err, did I write "suffer?" I meant "celebrate") through the training all winter. No prior experience necessary. Let me know if you're in.