Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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An Error of Magnitude

I operate on the principle of “More”: Faster. Stronger. Smarter. Better. Just….more. Always more. Take more classes. Work more jobs. Volunteer more time. It’s like someone hooked Dory on speed and told her to just keep swimming. GANGWAYYYYYY!! I don’t know where I’m going but by god I am going to gogogogo!

I think the truth is that I’m afraid of what will happen if I stop.

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Returning to the Site of Our Failures

This Christmas season, like the Christmas before, I returned to the town of my greatest happiness and crappiest failures. Granted, I ended on a low note, so it’s fair to say that the visits are distinctly masochistic (with a couple exceptions– notably visiting my cycling friend, my scholar friend, and my Not Normal friend. I add this addendum because at least one of them reads this blog at least some of the time. It’s not painful in the slightest to see all of you lovelies.)

However, there is something to be said for returning to the places where you felt the most pain, grief, and regret, to feeling those awful emotions again at their greatest potency. It’s a very solid reminder: Never Again. Never Fucking Again.

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I Refuse To Bonk

“I refuse to bonk. …and I refuse to let the asshole voice my head tell me that I haven’t put in the hours and earned the right to compete in this race.”

Okay, who the fuck is in my head, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t just say that. My self-talk usually contains copious references to oft-covered parts of the anatomy and the accompanying rude activities. (My belly button sometimes steals sweater fuzzies! What were you imagining?) When I think about an upcoming Ironman triathlon, a large part of me starts shouting that those empty hours in the saddle and on the pavement are going to be wretched and asks how the fuck, kid, are you going to find the mental badassery to keep going?

In all honesty, I remain shocked by that bit of inspirational chatter, my very own St. Crispin’s Day speech. Maybe I’ll grow some shaggy Kenneth Branagh hair and purchase a tunic.

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8 Things to Know About Mindfulness Practice

Here I present to you my list of things one might expect when beginning mindfulness practice– the obvious, the unexpected, and the downright frightening. As I’m still relatively new at this, please add in your own in the comments! (I’m talking to you, J.)
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