Hardened for Suffering
My first triathlon of the season is in a couple days. As in the past, I’ve been both anticipating and dreading it, and I feel underprepared. I’ve had a few different thoughts this time around, though. The first is that because it’s so early in the season, the water temperature of the lake in which we will swim is only 59 degrees Fahrenheit. I thought perhaps the swim portion would be cancelled or converted to an extra running leg, but it appears the swim is on. I’m definitely not looking forward to jumping in that water.
That dread over the extraordinary discomfort of physical cold caused me to wonder why I’m bothering to put myself in harm’s way beyond the obvious fitness and health benefits of athletic activity. It dawned on me today that much as I’ve tried to keep my gnawing sense of impending doom at bay, I nonetheless believe that we’re in for a world of hurt within my lifetime, and it may be that I’m using the triathlon in part to harden myself for the suffering I expect us all to experience sooner rather than later.
I’m not a competitive athlete; I’m way too slow. For me, the trial is all about endurance, though the cold water (even in a wetsuit) promises to create a different sort of discomfort. I’m habituated by now to fatigue and the strain of keeping moving when I’d rather give up. It’s odd, though, to consider that the ongoing work at tri sports may have intuitively become a proxy for other discomfort, deprivation, and downright suffering yet to come. Unlike many others who have grown soft and will most likely feel their pains quite acutely, I know that I’m prepared to bear it — for a while at least.
