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Essay for Tri Training Camp...hope I get in!

I’m not sure what drew me to my first Triathlon practice November of my freshman year at BU. I didn’t have the faintest idea the differences between a mountain and racing bike, Lance Armstrong was a guy whose favorite color was yellow, and Kona sounded like some sort of mixed drink. If you asked me if I had ever thought of cycling, I would laugh in your face, after all, cyclist’s socks were weird and their spandex hugged all the wrong areas. Nope, I was a retired high school swimmer who ran on the weekends to avoid the freshman fifteen. I was at college to dig my nose in books and find my future husband. Triathlons were not even in my vocabulary.
And yet I found myself at the track and tennis center at 8 pm on a Wednesday night. My first ever track practice, terrified out of my mind. The practice was bust: I almost fainted from giving blood that day and running in circles made my head spin. I was slower than everyone else and Coach Vic had to explain everything twice. I left feeling sore, weak, and defeated. So, obviously, I was back the next week.
The first time I cycled went similarly. I found myself sideways on the pavement more often than not, like a turtle on its back - clipped in and confused. I walked in my front door covered in blood, sweat, tears, and dirt, frustrated out of my mind in my brand new, ripped cycling kit. But I was back on the bike the next day determined to conquer the hill that taunted me.
I suppose that’s how my entire Triathlon career has gone thus far – just a series of practices and training sessions that beat me to the ground and push me past my limits, where I thought I’d never be able to go, and then somehow I find the strength to dig deep and keep going…and even come back for more the next day. Doing triathlons has not only made me reach goals I never thought possible, but it has caused me to develop a mindset about my entire life. I find myself pushing past my limits academically, mentally, and physically. It has taught me to never give up. At Nationals in Texas, even with the frigid temperatures and wind, a wet suit that strangled me, two flat tires on the bike, and a sprained ankle on the run, I still managed to cross the finish line, though limping and in tears- for me, quitting wasn’t even an option.
So far I haven’t found my limit, but I think that’s what my goal will always be. The camp will be the perfect way for me to once again step out of my comfort zone and into something completely new, with people who will challenge me to reach new levels.


What do you think?
Love love love,
me

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