Or the culmination of three, consecutive endurance events; Swimming, Cycling, & Running. I entered this sport (or multi-sport, as it is known today) as a distance runner.
I was influenced by a group called Tri-Fury, which essentially was a subsidiary of my running club, the Merrimack Valley Striders. I recall running the back roads of Andover, Massachusetts in my early undergraduate days, and seeing a sea of red jerseys fly by in the Tri-Fury peloton. Only a few would wave when I said hi, or waved. I thought they were almost uncanny. Then I became one.
I signed up, bought a bike, bought a wetsuit, and competed in several events. For the longest time, I found myself to be safe, and out of the snares and wickedness of injury. Then, sometime between my highest gross mileage for running, and our home collegiate XC meet in 2006, the wheels came off.
My body broke down. Entirely. Vastus lateralis micro-tears. Sacroiliac joint displacement. Illiotibial Band Syndrome (ITBS). Compartment syndrome. Crash. Tendonitis. Crash. Ligamental damage. Elbow contusion. Crash. And it continues.
Before the race:
After the race:
All of this, a collective soup of overtraining and failure to heed nature's nuclear air raid sirens. Elevated resting heart rate. Loss of appetite. Poor mood. Insomnia. None of it caught my attention.
This was before I found Narnia.
Allow me to brutally honest, to the dismay and disappointment of many. I don't like Narnia. It's sharp, and steep, and hot, and a haven for cuts and humidity. It ascends through sheer rock-face, leading to smoggy view of a less than spectacular city.
However in the summer of 2007, I ran it religiously with two other fellows. Trevor Laverriere and Mike Petty. We ran it so much that it became a ritual. Hell, Petty didn't even live here. But he did for that summer. Witness all of the album's entitled "Narnia"
At the end of that summer, I raced my first Olympic Distance Triathlon, PR'ing in the distance, notwithstanding a crash that I still bear scars from, and three weeks of bed-rest. After recovering, and leaving the bike home, I PR'd at the 8k, the 10 mile, the half marathon, and almost at the marathon. (Missing 8 minutes and change) Narnia carves you into something the roads cannot. It is deep and sharp and unforgiving. It is not for the jogger who prefers Dr. Cooper's minimal daily requirements of 30 minutes of moderate aerobic exercise per day.
So after months of procrastinating, I've come to a simple truth: No more triathlon this summer. Rather, I want to return to a degree of serenity I have not seen in some time now.
I have no fond memories of cycling. Or swimming. Or an elliptical workout. But my memories from running are vast. They spread two nations, five states, and eight years.
So as my bike sits in my stairwell with the rear wheel detached, and my wetsuit continues tot leak rubber in a basement, my running shoes are at the ready.
I'm returning to a state of nature which our beings have been engineered, developed, and evolved to exhibit.
I'm becoming one who listens before he leaps. I'm becoming one who doesn't fear the rest day, or the occasional Coca-Cola soft drink. I becoming attached to an organic state.
Rather, I'm becoming a runner.
