There’s No Crying in Triathlon

My dear friends: happy Tuesday! Fear not, summer has arrived in true Reno fashion with a healthy dose of I-Don’t-Know-What-The-Weather-Will-Be-Like-Tomorrow! I swear I got roasted all weekend only to be treated to cool, 60 degree weather during my 9 mile run early in the AM.

The changing of seasons is, without a doubt, the most refreshing and yet oft complained about time of year in northern Nevada. According to someone, it’s always too hot or too cold, the rain sucks, or we don’t have enough clouds, etc. We often jump from winter to summer, only to return to spring at an odd time for a week or two before plunging into a scorcher the latter half of July and August. It’s a vicious cycle, but the unusual weather patterns provide plenty of refreshment for those, like myself, who are inclined to be outdoors soaking up the vitamin D in a sponge-like manner.

The joy of this time of year is my workout routine is practically carved into stone, with very little surprises along the way. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday – swim, swim, swim. Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday – bike, bike, bike. Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday – run, run, run.

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Perhaps one of my favorite things about spending hour after hour in the bike saddle is just the stellar conversations you can have with yourself. Nothing is better than a dialogue where no one can interrupt, argue, derail your train of thought, or even just interject their completely unrelated and somewhat witless observations on the universe. Oh, how the lack of common sense kills me inside… regardless, I digress.

It was on my way to the top of Brockway Summit, a rather crushing, demoralizing, and overall pain-induced blitz to the top of a 25 minute climb (to 7200 feet) that involves grinding quads and crackling hamstrings, that I had a great epiphany about what it is that triathletes don’t do. There is no crying in triathlon! I don’t mean the physical act of your tear ducts firing off silvery beads onto your cheeks, but I’m referring to complaining, whining, moaning, telling everyone life isn’t fair, etc.  When the thousands of athletes get to that start line, everything is fair game. Everyone knows how much hard work they did (or didn’t) do in order to prepare, and no one freaking cares if you feel unprepared. You better figure it out! It’s a solo event and you need to rise to the occasion.

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Triathletes are notorious for swimming, biking, running, training, eating, occasionally sleeping, hurling, spitting, hacking, bleeding, hurting, persevering, rejoicing, limping, indulging, weighing, dropping, cajoling, and overall just adventuring in the grandest of fashion. They aren’t however, known for crying like little girls or complaining that the world owes them something. They set off to carve their own destiny and do so in between epic failures of a glorious nature, making mistakes, erring on the side of the road less traveled, and by pushing their limits well beyond breaking point. Basically, they’re just messed in the head!

In the business world, those who rise above the rest are the ones who aren’t afraid to take one in the chin, end up with a mouthful of dirt, or just deal with the minutia in order to provide great successes on the fun and important projects. You are much better served to be known as someone who will at least take a stab at tasks well beyond your comfort zone (aka skillset) then someone who slinks away from the unfamiliar. Give me 10 of the first, and zero of the latter and you will see stellar results.

In all of our comings and goings, make sure to rise to any and all occasions, even ones that you may have to unearth yourself. Be adventurous, climb mountains, try a different path to success, and never, ever cry that life is unfair.

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