Why?

I'm laid up on the sofa at home with a cold just now, full of snot and with plenty of time to ponder where I am with my Celtman training, what I still need to do, and how I can recover from an illness setback. 

I'm a bit nervous about writing this post as it's very personal, but I'll write it down and then work out whether to publish it when I get to the end.  I do know there are a few people who read this blog and take a little bit of inspiration or motivation from it, so perhaps I will put my big brave girl pants on and press 'publish', for me and those people, and to hell with anyone who wants to be critical.  

Preparing for this race is occupying most of my waking moments just now.  When I'm not at work, or sleeping, body and mind are on Celtman.  Thankfully I have a patient and accommodating parter in Mark- and he is also involved in Celtman, so he's not entirely immune to the obsession himself.  

Yes, I'm a fully paid-up Celtman bore.  You kind of have to be, to do this event justice. 

Sometimes, though, it's all a bit much.  I wonder if I can do it, if I'll let myself down, if I'll let others down.  Having a support crew commit a load of time & effort to the thing means if I don't make it, they don't either.  But I know Mark and Kate are with me every step of the way... 

So it's worth revisiting my 'Why?'.  Why on earth am I putting myself through all this?  Why the heck do I want to do this ludicrous event? 

And here's the personal bit. 

People have underestimated me all of my life.  I was the fat girl in school, the fat northern one at University (Middlesbrough lass, in London in the '90s), and in spite of 4 career changes & lots of achievements, I'm still judged regularly for my weight, for the way I look, or the way I sound.  

I know it's nonsense - people don't see who I am, what I'm capable of or what I've done when they glance at me and make a snap judgement- but it still hurts sometimes. Society sets a rule that Fat Women Don't Do Sport.  From the size 26 twenty-something-year-old who was a regular hillwalker, to the size 16-18 forty-eight year old who is sitting here right now, I've learned to live with some of those judgements, but it doesn't make them any less impactful.  Every sideways glance, every failed shopping trip where I can't find kit to fit me.  It all chips away at a person's confidence. 

There's a scene in the film Eddie The Eagle where Eddie looks at the camera, talking about his 'Eagle' mimes as he played to the crowd in the Olympic Stadium.  He says 'I take jumping very seriously. In fact I love it.  I love it almost as much as I love Proving People Wrong'.  And that's how I feel.  I've spent most of my life proving people wrong.  

There are a multitude of people out there who will assume that I can't complete Celtman. At one time, I was one of them.  Until two years ago I had never even contemplated that I'd be able to do it.  But then, something changed... I'm not even sure what.  But last year, completing the Solo Point Five, I started to believe I could do it.  And, I think I can.  

  

But why Celtman specifically?  

It's an incredibly special event: taking place just an hour from my home, in some of the most adventure-laden landscapes in Scotland, it's not a 'normal' triathlon.  In fact, apart from having a swim, a bike and a so-called 'run' (there's very little actual running for many people), it has little in common with most triathlons.  I've been involved with it for years as water safety, and feel part of the 'Celtman family'; and I've been intimately connected with the area it takes place in for many, many years.  

So it's an adventure; it's an adventure in the landscape, but it's also an adventure into myself: what I'm capable of, and how I can push myself further than I ever have before.  And it's an adventure into proving - both to myself and to others - that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.  And the biggest adventure of all: making it to the start line, physically & mentally trained and in tact, and believing I can make it through the strict cut-off times, and on to the finish. 

I still don't know if I can do this thing, but as time goes by and I put the work in, I think (and hope) that I can...