Waiting to feel the flutter

Now, before any one panics—no I am not pregnant.
(Please four is enough! Have you met Captain Destruction? It is a wonder my house is still standing. )

I just feel like I am pregnant.


I am expecting a triathlon.

My training and races this year have become very much like my pregnancies. In the beginning of the season, I was excited about the races I had chosen, the training plan I had selected, and was bursting at a seams to get started. And, similar to each of my pregnancies, I kept everything a secret just in case something happened and my races and training did not work out.

After a while, the cat got out of the bag. I could no longer keep my training and races a secret as plans were being made and I had to politely decline due to biking/swimming/running or purchases were being made and noticed. I did not flaunt my training, but others were aware of it and some began to cheer me on. I was still excited to train, eagerly anticipating the outcome.

Now, I am in the end of the second to the beginning of the third trimester of my triathlon training. Just like in the middle stages of my pregnancies where I had become accustomed to being pregnant, adjusted to the new body, limitations, and needs, I now have become adjusted to the routine. The novelties of new workouts have worn off and running, swimming, and biking have all become part of the checklist of my daily life:

aGo grocery shopping
aRide bike for 2 hours
aLoad dishwasher
aClean bathrooms
aSwim 1 mile time trial
aFold and put away laundry

Now, much unlike my pregnancies, I have not been getting that sweet reminder of the purpose of all this hard work. When your body is working hard baking a baby, you get some wonderful reminders of what the prize is at the end of the journey. There are kicks and punches, flutters and nudges from the little being within. If you are lucky (read: have a great insurance plan), you are even able to get occasional pictures of the reward as it grows and changes, providing concrete evidence of progress.

I have been desperately searching for those flutters in my training – a great ride, faster paces, making the “impossible” interval. Those little nudges have just not been there (or they have not been at all apparent to me).

I read triathlon blogs for entertainment and to be inspired. It seems, lately, that everyone I read has been feeling the flutter. They have had personal best runs, rides, or swims. They have been placing in their age groups, having epic training adventures in picturesque settings, or meeting and training with phenomenal friends. They have found cheerleaders in the most unexpected of places.

Me, lately. I got nothin'. I do most of my training alone. When I swim at the Y, there are no feet to catch. When I run, the only conversations I have are with myself as I create the lists of things I need to get done. There are no epic rides in picturesque settings. Usually, I have to stick close to home in case the babysitter calls. Today, I travelled the same uphill stretch of road twice (up and down) as a part of my hill workout. (I am sure that the AT&T workmen thought I was crazy). The only striking scene I noticed was the poor squirrel that didn’t make it across the road (which I had the pleasure of viewing four times).

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had a few flutters since I began this year’s journey. I ran the ½ marathon with some fabulous friends and made my super secret far reaching time goal. However whatever amount of flutter that event gave me, the race seems weeks ago and my mind has converted that flutter to the speculation that it was just gas.

At some point, when I was pregnant with all of my children, I decided that I was done with being pregnant. I had enough of the huge belly, the food cravings and aversions, the continuous need to go the bathroom, and the inability to ever get comfortable. Many women experience this during the last months before their due date and my triathlon pregnancy is heading down the same path as my “A” race due date is a mere 7 weeks away. I am getting tired of the huge rides and runs, frustrated at my constant hunger and not being able to find the find the perfect food to satiate it, and I know that Mr. Spie no longer wants to be a message therapist.

Much like my overwhelming desire to meet the person I was growing and begin to parent and LOVE them, I just want to race and see the concrete evidence of my work. But, similar to pregnancy, I know there is some time left on the triathlon timer and my "A" game is not quite done.

I also know that sometimes a mood can be changed just by a few swift kicks to the ribs and I am sure that with a few friendly triathlon nudges, my mood will be lifted too!