Mary Kay Ash of Mary Kay Cosmetics said: “If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t, you’re right.” And I – the woman who hasn’t worn makeup in this millenium – understands exactly where Mary Kay is coming from. As “Fit Girl”, I can do anything: run half marathons, complete triathlons, wrestle alligators. But when “Fat Girl” takes over my brain, I run to the buffet restaurants, complete pints of ice cream, wrestle my husband for the leftover pizza (and though he’s 16 inches taller than me and an entire adult woman heavier, he doesn’t stand a chance when “Fat Girl” wants that pizza).
Lately, I have to admit I’ve been on a “Fit Girl” streak. I kicked butt at my first triathlon of the season last week, and for the second time since mid-April completed 4 races in 4 weeks. The only thought in my head lately has been “Bring on that alligator.”
My triathlon partner, Jeff, and I are signed up for an Olympic distance triathlon in August: 1 mile swim, 21 mile bike ride, 6.2 mile run. The triathlon will take place in Harriman State Park, where the bike course can best be described as “grueling”. There is a 1200 foot drop over 2 miles long, where the biker clocks about 37 miles per hour. Of course, what goes down must come up, which means that there is also a 1200 foot elevation that covers the same 2 miles, where the biker goes about 3 miles per hour. For those non-math minded readers, let me explain it this way: it f***ing sucks.
Jeff and I were trying to schedule a bike ride up at Harriman, so we could start working on this triathlon. I had a ridiculously busy weekend, so the best I could offer Jeff was late Saturday afternoon because I had a 5 mile race in Central Park earlier in the morning. Jeff questioned my ability to do the Harriman bike course just a few hours after running 5 miles, but I fluffed it off. I was “Fit Girl”, able to run the morning race while carrying a bike over my head, right? This was going to be easy.
Saturday morning I woke up a little less sure of myself, and my confidence weaned after I ran one of my worst races ever. My time was horrible, bad enough that I’m not displaying it here. As I was running, I just couldn’t get into a groove, and I felt weak the entire time. I thought back to my week and recalled donating blood a couple of days before (I’d love to say I donate blood for altruistic reasons, but the truth of the matter is that I do it for the Oreos they provide as a snack afterwards. Hey, after you give blood, Oreos are basically medicinal).
Later in the afternoon, I hitched a ride with Jeff up to Harriman. I immediately realized that “Fat Girl” was in the car when I told Jeff that I didn’t think I could bike up the big hill. Jeff replied, “Ali, please. You eat half marathons for breakfast.” I tried to think like “Fit Girl”, but the thought of that hill was looming in my mind.
When we got to Harriman, I got on my bike and started the ride. Immediately I realized the perfect storm I had created: I’d run a race that morning, I hadn’t eaten properly afterwards to fuel for this ride, and frankly, I’d bitten off more than I could chew. And here I was, sitting on my bike, watching this perfect storm roll in.
When we started the ride, Jeff – a MUCH stronger biker than me – took off and I didn’t see him again until much later. I trudged up the smaller hills on the course, with “Fit Girl” in one ear telling me to keep pedaling, and “Fat Girl” in the other telling me it was no use and to give up. But I was wrestling my alligator, so I kept going.
After a few miles, I hit the enormous 2 mile downhill. My bike sped up, and I started to panic. I grabbed the right brake to slow myself down to a speed that didn’t have my entire life flashing in front of my eyes (ending in a heap at the bottom of this hill where I pictured myself flying ass over handlebars and having my momentum only stopped by a lot of asphalt). But all my weight was on my forearms, and they were beginning to cramp. The right one was worse, since it was also pulling back on the brake at the same time. I was in a lot of pain.
The way the course is set up, you fly down this hill until you get to a ridiculously sharp hairpin turn, where you need to brake hard, drop from 21st gear to 1st, and turn left all in the same breath. Well, right when I needed to do that trifecta of athletic prowess, “Fat Girl” took over the bike. I thought two words: “I can’t”, and just like Mary Kay predicted, I was right. I missed the turn completely.
After I missed the turn, I managed to stop my bike. Then I looked up. And there I saw the two mile uphill with 1200 foot elevation that I was going to have to start from a dead stop, all while “Fat Girl” was ringing in my ears, laughing hysterically and cutting herself another piece of chocolate cake.
I turned my bike around and pointed it uphill. I got on and tried to push the pedal. I fell off. I got up and tried again. Fail. I picked up the bike and manually put it in first gear and then got on and tried again. Nope. So, I got off the bike and started walking it uphill. I walked the full two miles before I found a spot that was flat enough that I could get on and get going again.
Let me tell you: a two mile walk uphill while pushing a bike takes a while. It takes even longer when you spend it telling yourself that you’re just a fat girl disguised as a thin one, that you can’t do anything, that you had no business even thinking you could do this entire triathlon.
When I met up with Jeff again, I told him I wasn’t going to do the Olympic triathlon in August. In my own head I contemplated skipping the other two shorter ones I’ve signed up for, figuring I don’t really deserve them. Jeff brought up a good point: I’ve already registered for the triathlon, and we have about 2 months to train for it. His idea is that we come back in a week and I try it again. Intellectually (and outwardly) I agreed with him, but inside I know what happened: after all the battles between “Fit Girl” and “Fat Girl”, “Fat Girl” finally won a round and “Fit Girl” has no clue how to get up once she’s been knocked down.
Today I took my kids to a birthday party. The party was at a movie theater. During the previews, they flashed a quote from Walt Disney on the screen: “If you can visualize it, if you can dream it, there is some way to do it.” I read that on the screen, and could almost feel “Fit Girl” smacking “Fat Girl” right across the face. I thought about the Harriman hill. I pictured getting down it, making the turn, and climbing back up. I figured out a strategy of when to shift the gears on my bike, how to make the turn, how to stay on the bike for the entire ride back up. I even pictured getting off my bike at the transition area and starting my run during the triathlon. Mary Kate is right again: I think I can, so I can. I will conquer that hill.
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