One of those people

Back when I was a well-trained triathlete who did 15 hours of swimming, biking and running each week, I didn't understand how I could ever not be so hardcore. At the time, I knew people who had done marathons and Ironmans and had "retired" from endurance sports due to babies, promotions, school and other commitments. I viewed their choices with a wide-eyed, blinking, clueless stare. How could you ever give this up and live with yourself? I would think to myself as I embarked on my third workout of the day.

When I first got injured, I had a really difficult time letting go. I couldn't see myself as one of "those people" -- the people who didn't bring three sets of clothes, two bikes and a bag of gear with them to work each day. I couldn't fathom the idea of waking up at 6, showering ("if I haven't sweated, I'm too clean to shower!") and just...you know...going to work. It was against everything I believed in.

Now, I am one of those people.

My workout schedule is totally lame. I swim laps two or three days a week for about 20-25 minutes at a time, and I do my PT exercises at home on off-days (a few leg lifts, basically). I'll probably burn more calories by crutching around after my knee surgery, which is this coming Thursday. Eeks!

The other day, I saw a news report about lazy America and how much we "should" be exercising and I realized that I am doing less than I'm supposed to. At least according to Katie Couric or whoever. Man, did that make me laugh.

If you would have asked me 18 months if I'd be okay with less than the recommended amount of "exercise" (not that I consider swimming really exercise since I move so slowly), I would have also laughed. Of course not...I'd be lazy...fat...out of shape...bored...I couldn't focus on work...without all this training, my life would fall apart.

Obviously, my life hasn't fallen apart. In fact, some might say it's actually improved. I have a great new job, I just got accepted to a Master's program, I'm still happily married, I volunteer for a kick-ass nonprofit, and I have a new hobby for which the "gear" costs a lot less than $400 a month, or whatever I was spending on all my training and racing stuff. I'm just as busy as I was in 2006, but without brick workouts or spinning classes.

But what about my health? When I went to the doctor for my pre-op appointment and took a little peek at the chart from last fall...my BP and resting heart rate are virtually the same (as in I'm clinically dead - my resting pulse is 48 beats per minute). And I have not gotten fat since I quit racing - in fact, I've actually lost weight, partially because I'm not ravenously craving cheeseburgers all the time (although that has more to do with the fact that I quit drinking six months ago, but that's a story for another day when I feel like spilling my guts in a public blog).

By no means am I saying I'm happy all of this happened. I really miss it! Particularly riding my bike to work, which never felt like a workout to me because I enjoyed it so much. I have a good feeling that I'll be able to do that again in a few months. I'm also not going to give up racing if I can help it - at least racing in small, short, local races. I love the adrenaline rush that racing gives me, and I don't think I'll ever grow tired of it.

But this experience has taught me that being a hard-core athlete isn't the be-all, end-all of my life. I don't need to be hardcore to have a reasonably healthy existence. I am capable of doing other things, and even being obsessive about them, hence my growing pile of scarves.

I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and goshdarnit, people probably like me more than they did a year ago because I don't show up for fancy dinners with bike grease under my fingernails. Maybe being one of those people ain't so bad after all.