New Tricks

In the week since I posted my last blog entry, I have learned quite a few things. Since I’ve never done a triathlon, and I’ve never taken on a major fundraising project, this should not have come as a surprise. But I don’t always think things through before I dive in (you’re shocked, I know). Some of my lessons were funny, some poignant, and some just plain painful. For your reading enjoyment, I’ve compiled a short list.

My daughter commandeering my cycling shoes.

1. Sometimes the money comes from where you least expect it.

When you do a fundraiser like this, you think you can predict who is going to donate money and who won’t. What you can’t predict is that your blog is going to blaze through social networks like wildfire and people who don’t even know you are going to lay down huge chunks of money. I have already raised fifty percent of my goal. In one week. Many of my donors are people I don’t know at all. I am humbled and grateful and shocked. On the flip side, over 2,000 people read my last post. If every single one of those people donated just $5 to the cause, I would have exploded my fundraising goal. Please don’t forget that small acts of kindness can add up to really big, amazing, life-changing things.

2. Learning two new sports, especially when you don’t have a key piece of equipment, is tricky.

True, swimming is not exactly a new sport for me. But I haven’t done it competitively for fifteen years. There is some rust to shake off. (OK, a lot.) And I forgot that I always look like a raccoon for hours after a pool workout. This is kind of awkward when you have a business meeting immediately afterward. To get around that, I invested in goggles that are more like a snorkeling mask than actual goggles. I am quite certain that the hardcore triathletes at my pool are deeply embarrassed for me (I swear I bought them at a reputable swim shop). So I look like a fool in the water, but at least I don’t look like a dork afterward. I promise I will get different goggles for racing.

If Aquasphere makes them, they must be cool, right?

Pool etiquette is particularly interesting. Swimmers get a bit uppity if someone is swimming in the “wrong” lane, and it took me a lot of laps of passing slower people to finally have the guts to switch to the fast lane. That is, the lane of the Ironman tattoos and flip turns and speedos and serious-looking coaches on the pool deck. It’s intimidating, no doubt. And it also makes me swim faster (fear of getting passed, or of being kicked in the face while being passed, is apparently a great motivator). I guess that’s not so bad.

      As for cycling, that truly is a new sport for me. The fact that I am currently training on a heavy mountain bike makes me certain that once I get on a road bike, I’ll simply be flying. That’s true, right? I’ll be whipping past everyone on my new steed, when it miraculously appears. Either that or I will be crashing in a twisted heap of metal because I can’t get out of my pedals in time, or because I can’t balance on the aerobars. All definite possibilities. And if my bike doesn’t appear, well, then I’ll be racing on a mountain bike. Worse things have happened. (In my life, that statement will pretty much always be true.)

3. Cyclists have a lot of rules.

My trusty steed. Perfect for a triathlon, right?

When I committed to this event, my husband gave me the rundown on everything I needed to know about cycling. I also read Bike Snob. Coming from running, where pretty much anything goes (Shoes? Shirt? Shorts? You’re good to go), I discovered that cyclists have a lot of rules. You can’t have a visor on your helmet when on a road bike. You can’t wear fingerless gloves on a mountain bike. You can’t wear a jersey with a big logo that is different from the big logo on your shorts. You cannot wear road shoes on a mountain bike. Fenders are decidedly uncool (even if they are super practical). And that’s not even including the triathlete rules, which I know nothing about except that there are many.

Also, my sitz bones were not prepared for the effects of two-hour bike rides. While a long ride doesn't hurt in the same way as a long run, having something hard wedged into your rear end for two hours is really not the most pleasant thing on earth. You know what else hurts? Being passed by an old guy on a commuter bike, with panniers no less, who doesn't even look like he’s trying very hard. Clearly I've got a long way to go.

4. You need a very understanding spouse to do this.

Let’s just say that no one is the best mother or housekeeper after putting in two workouts a day. Between training, fundraising, my business, yoga teacher training, and writing, I am sufficiently maxed out. I am living out of laundry baskets and ignoring dirty floors. My husband has endured more pita pizza dinners than he probably should. But he doesn’t complain. And he fixes my bike. That’s love.

5. Not everyone sees things the way you do.

Honestly, I should know this by now. But it’s a good lesson to re-learn. Since I started this endeavour, most people have been remarkably encouraging. Even if people were unable to donate money, they sent words of encouragement. But some people don’t understand why I would ever want to submit myself to such rigorous training. Others don’t understand how racing a triathlon in Hawaii is beneficial to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Am I just asking you to pay for my vacation? No. But it’s a fair question, so I thought I should explain.

First of all, I didn’t pick the location. I was looking for a way to raise money for LLSC, and my injury dictated that it couldn’t be a marathon. I checked the Team in Training website and this was the first feasible option for me. The fact that it was in Hawaii was a definite bonus, but I would still be doing this even if it were in Toronto. Second, if I just wanted a free trip to Hawaii, I would already be done. (I definitely don’t need $6,400 to fly to Kona.) Third, I am paying for a good chunk of the travel expenses myself, LLSC gets great group and charity rates, and I am looking elsewhere to cover the rest. Fourth, and perhaps most important, is that these destination events are why Team in Training is so popular. Many people who have no connection whatsoever to blood cancers still have wildly successful fundraising campaigns, because they want to do the cool events. If it didn’t benefit LLSC to send people to Hawaii, they wouldn’t do it.

So… if you’re hesitant to pay for my trip to Kona, that’s OK. Between my own money and other resources, it’s already paid for. But I’m still raising funds, because I want to contribute as much as I can to blood cancer research and survivor support. It’s really not about Hawaii.

I am learning things about this process every single day, and it’s important to me not only to raise money and race well, but also to be a good ambassador for the LLSC. If that means a bigger personal investment, a sorer backside, and a raccoon face, then I guess that’s what it takes.

So when I hobble off my husband’s old mountain bike with road shoes on and rings around my eyes, you can pretend you don’t know me. I’ll understand.