Ralph: It looks like the plane is still delayed. Something about not enough staff. I will just continue to read d.c.’s book. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, chapter four.
SWIMMING IN THE OCEAN
1200 hours: Bike Leg: Sugar Mountain; first loop: I REALLY need to distract myself. This
is a brutal bike course. This is my strength, and I feel like a ninety-pound
weakling, even though I weigh almost twice that much. I will figure out my splits
that I need for each course to hit my goal to distract myself before climbing this
VERY steep hill.
I need every second if I am going to finish this course in 13 hours. That is an
aggressive goal, but it is still doable if I can gather speed coming down this
steep hill. Man, climbing that hill was as difficult as swimming in the ocean…
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To my way of thinking, the only way to learn to swim in the ocean is to actually swim
in the ocean. One of my triathlons was an Olympic distance one, with the 1500-meter
swim leg being held in Galveston Bay. Because of this, I decided that what I needed to
do was to practice swimming in the ocean. This race had me much more concerned than the
sprint that was coming up next. That swim (a short, three-hundred meter one) was in a
pool that I swam in almost every day, and the swim and bike legs were in my old
neighborhood.
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To someone like my grandmother, growing up on the beaches of the turbulent Atlantic
Ocean, swimming in the ocean was out of the question. That is because the ocean was,
really, the only logical place for her to swim during her childhood. As a result, she
simply never learned how to swim, and neither did any of her three children.
My father did teach himself how to swim when he reached his early fifties, with
no small amount of coaching from my mother and all four of his children. My aunt and
uncle never did learn to swim, although each one of both of their children can swim. In
fact, both of my aunt's daughters were certified lifeguards. It is the two of them that get
the lion's share of the credit for my learning to swim.
To people like me, learning to do something so technically difficult as learning to
swim in the ocean is part of the attraction of participating in triathlons. (I am much
more of a tactician than a natural athlete.) To someone like Luke, an open water swim is the
only kind of competitive swimming that is worth doing. He still refuses to participate in
any triathlons that have the swim leg held in a swimming pool.
Unfortunately for people like Luke and me, this aspect of our personalities often
carries over into other areas of our lives, such as our relationships. This is not to say
that my grandmother, who raised a family during the Great Depression, or my aunt or
uncle are cowards. Quite the contrary. My uncle was a Korean War veteran, and my aunt
has seen her youngest daughter through two bouts of Hodgkin's disease. (My sweet
aunt, who remembered everyone in her family’s birthday with a thoughtful card, passed away at the age of 91. It was a full house at her funeral.)
This does not mean that Luke and I are careless, either (neither of us will get on a
bicycle without wearing a helmet.) I am merely trying to point out that there are
deep-seated differences in everyone's personalities. Those differences can sometimes be
determined by observing what one's hobbies are.
As I think back on my life and romantic relationships, most of them have been as
difficult as swimming in the ocean. Quite frankly, at this stage of my life, I felt as
knocked around by my relationships as I did when I would get out of the ocean after a
practice swim. However, hearts, like arms and legs, do recover with time and rest. There
was someone who was beginning to catch my eye, and it did seem to be reciprocated to
some degree.
There usually does seem to be more than one possibility of romance or none. This
seems to be the nature of the beast. Currently, the beast was at least smiling at me, if only in anticipation of the future, judging from my past track record.
Leta had seemed to be a good choice. We hung out together, danced together, and
talked on the phone often, but we had never dated. Every time it seemed likely
this would happen, I'd get a call from an old girlfriend, or she'd get a call from a new
(potential) beau, and off we'd go, in opposite directions. This, however, was not the time
to pursue Leta. Mary had been like an older sister to her, and I didn't want to interfere
with her grieving process.
Of course, there was also Adelina, who, either by careful observation, instinct, or
divine intervention, (I'm not sure which,) always seemed to be around when I needed a
friend the most.
We trained together almost every day and served as each other's escorts when needed.
Adelina is a quality person, but her family was complete. Mine hadn't even started yet.
That is the problem with a man being 10 years younger than a woman, especially since I am in
my mid-30’s. I wished only the best for her, and I knew that wasn't me.
Add all the above factors to the equation, along with the fact I work a forty-plus hour work week, as well as try to train about twenty hours a week. This meant that I had, at most, two free evenings a week. The reality is that clothes must be washed and grass must be mowed. In other words, sometimes life gets in the way of having fun (as well as relationships.)
Heidi was pretty, as well as a pretty nice person. Although she had a strong personality, I felt a link between us that went beyond the pathetic co-rec softball team on which we both played. Only one complication- Heidi and I were as different as ketchup and peanut butter. Of course, to me, that was part of the attraction. I knew that she was an extrovert (and I am an introvert), I knew she was busy, (as was I), and I knew that she was getting over a broken engagement, but it didn't matter (Heidi was pretty). I asked her to dinner, anyway. Figuring out where and when was the problem.
With two triathlons and the warm-up series of runs for the marathon coming up, it
seemed impossible, aside from a Sunday afternoon, when I had planned to do a practice
swim in Galveston Bay. Fortunately for me, Heidi either really liked seafood or was
interested enough, because she took me up on my offer of a trip to the beach and seafood
dinner. Heidi and I both enjoyed our one and only date that afternoon, (I even forgot
about the shooting pain in my foot and the fact that the waves knocked me around
during my practice swim in Galveston Bay.)
Heidi got back together with her ex-fiancée after that, and I was happy for both of them. They eventually married and had two children.
As for me, I did finish both triathlons and both warm-up races, narrowly missing my
goals in both triathlons and barely beating them in my two runs. This was no small feat. I
learned that the shooting pain in my left foot was caused by the planter’s fasciitis, a result
of overtraining. A “trigger point injection” in the bottom of my foot, though, allowed me
to keep participating in races and (over) training. As for the rest of my story - please read on.
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