Today, Nadia woke up with full-blown PMS. Her energy levels were below zero and her brain failed to function. Even so, she managed to make herself breakfast, drink her morning cup of tea, and write an overdue article – barely.
Nadia had much more work that needed to be done, but the overdue article turned out to be the
limit of her work-related ability for the day. So she slumped onto her favorite (only) couch and turned the television on to Come Dine With Me.
Nadia was certain she’d have to send her personal trainer a note, apologizing for not being able to make her 1:45pm appointment at the gym. “There’s no way that’s going to work,” she told herself.
But like a robot, at 1:15 she forced herself off the couch, up the stairs and lazily got into her gym clothes.
At exactly 1:30, she opened the house door, gym bag in hand, and was shocked to find the car wasn’t in the drive.
FUUUUUUUUUUUCK! she yelled to herself. You see, Nadia had forgotten that she herself had taken the car to the mechanic just the day before.
“I DO NOT want to have to walk to the gym on a day like today!” she proclaimed. She had no energy! She was PMSing! The whole world was conspiring against her!
She threw her duffle bag on the floor and decided, “If I’m fucking going to have to walk to the gym, I’m turning this into this week’s short run. I am not wasting all that energy for nothing!” And so it was. Nadia ended up running to the gym (it’s a short run).
She then sailed through her 40 minute session and ran back home again. Since there was no food in the house to make for dinner, she then grabbed some money and ran back up a hill to the neighborhood shop. “That will just about make it 5km for today,” she decided. Food was bought, she walked home heavily laden with groceries, and dinner was made.
Tuesday evenings are when the triathlon club meets at a nearby lake for open water swimming. Nadia KNEW when she woke up this morning that wasn’t happening for her today. So what did she do? At 5:45pm, she dutifully got her bike out and cycled down to the lake.
At 7pm, Nadia dived into the cold water and started her first 450-meter lap around the lake. “This sucks,” she said to herself. Nadia agreed. But Nadia kept swimming.
About 100 meters before finishing the first lap, Nadia decided, “I’m just doing one lap today. I think it’s big of me that I came here to start with. Remember, you still have a 12.5km bike ride home.”
Nadia reached the last red buoy and dutifully turned around to start the second lap. “What is WRONG with you??” she told herself. “I thought we agreed we’d only do one of these.” Nadia didn’t respond. She just kept moving her arms and breathing, moving her arms and breathing.
As she neared the end of the 2nd lap, she thought, “You outdid your highest expectations. Congratulations for a job well done. Now get out of the water and get yourself into something warm!”
But, as she came up to the last red buoy, the other Nadia said, “Fuck fuck fuck this! We’re here to do a job and we’re going to do it!” And Nadia swam round the buoy and started on her 3rd 450-meter lap.
“What’s 450 meters? It’s nothing. You’ll be done before you know it,” she told herself.
She flung her arms and breathed, flung her arms and breathed.
Red buoy. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! You’ve got an Olympic triathlon coming up and you’re here to train so you’d better bloody get yourself used to swimming the full Olympic distance!” And Nadia finished a 4th lap in that lake for her very first time.
She ran out of the water shivering to death. She got dressed and hopped on her bike to ride the distance home.
“I’ll take it easy up the long hill. There’s no need to rush,” she convinced herself.
But as her legs began to move, she set herself a respectable pace that she didn’t allow to slow down on the several-kilometer-long hill. “You’re going to do a triathlon soon! If you can’t do this now, you won’t be able to do it then!” So Nadia pushed herself until she got home.
40-minute gym session involving work on glutes, hamstrings, shoulder rotator cuffs and abs.
THAT’s what it’s like in a day of a PMSing triathlete.
I might not be fast, but as the Egyptians say, I have a mind the son of 60 shoes.
I’m exhausted, just by reading this.