Failure To Launch

The last time I wrote a post I felt hard to write, it was about admitting when I had made a mistake. I had chosen a non branded full distance triathlon because I didn’t have enough belief in myself that I could achieve an actual Ironman. Thankfully, I went on to complete an ‘actual’ Ironman on top of the non-branded one and my self belief rose a little.

Right now I do not feel good about myself. Quite frankly I feel downright pathetic. (Or pants and pathetic if you were able to read a conversation I had with a friend earlier).

I had managed to get a last minute place at Etape Loch Ness. 66miles of closed roads around the famous Loch with views you just know instantly are the Scottish Highlands. Joe was away for the weekend but as usual my mum stepped in to help with the youngest and the dogs. I then discovered I had said I would work at an event on the Saturday before but I would be able to get away fairly early. Signing up to volunteer at a club race on the Friday night added a spanner to the works but it was done now and I will always help where I can.

So I was set for a busy weekend but, if I planned it right, it should all be fine.

Friday night went fine, a lot later than I had planned but nothing too drastic. Saturday showcasing the bikes was absolutely freezing but an overall success and I managed to get away at a reasonable time. Forgetting my cycling bib was a pain in the arse (although not as big a pain in the arse as cycling without them would have been) so a 30mile round trip was added to my evening. Still, I had several podcasts to keep me company and I was able to find the hotel easily enough by myself.

To say the receptionist was less than impressed with my arrival is an understatement. I’m not sure if I disturbed his peace, he was at the end of his shift or if he just generally didn’t like people. Maybe my face or just my actual being offended him. Maybe it was the fact there was a wee scottish women standing in front of him trying to control her bike and not drop her bag – either way he couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. Unfortunately for him, I couldn’t hear a damn thing he was saying other than the gym and pool were both closed. ‘Well yes, it’s 7.30pm’ was the reply after the third time of me saying sorry, I can’t hear you. I picked up the words ‘breakfast’ and I think ‘6:30am’ so I said unfortunately I would be leaving before then so I wasn’t going to book breakfast.

When I eventually got a key that worked and was able to get into the room I found the window wide open and a mini tornado circling the room. Any hope of a relaxing and peaceful night to myself was now well and truly gone with the wind. Not sure why a hotel would leave a window open all day in the lovely wet and windy Scottish downpour we were having but there you have it. I headed back downstairs – via the outside fire escape as that was the only option if you didn’t want to take the lift (?) – and across the road to get something to eat.

I was feeling a bit lonely by now and the abundance of testosterone was rife so when I spotted a fellow women I took the opportunity to talk to her. She wasn’t doing Etape, her husband was, but she did tell me the hotel was putting on a special breakfast at an earlier time for those of us doing the race.

Back to Mr Friendly and Approachable I went to enquire about said breakfast.

‘Oh, you’re doing the race??’.

No pal, I was just standing here with my bike earlier for fun, thought I would take it away for a romantic night just the 2 of us you know.

How I wish I had had the guts to respond with that.

Instead, it was a very weak ‘uh huh’, and a very fast scuttle away back to my room.

On the scale of 1 to Pathetic I was coming in at a solid 7, you’re pretty weak right at that moment.

I slept for half an hour that night. I’m not exaggerating. I am embarrassed to admit I spent a large part of what was supposed to be my peaceful night riddled with anxiety and hating myself. I even messaged a friend who I knew was doing it asking if he would meet me at the car park in the morning so I had someone to talk to and help get me to the start line. Unfortunately he never got the message.

At 4:30am I messaged Joe to see if he was awake. Surprisingly he was – he was just about to go to sleep. I told him I was thinking of bailing. I expected a barrage of name calling (in jest before anyone gets their knickers in a twist) but he just asked why. After telling him how cold and wet it was (excuses, really) I admitted I was lying there crying (pathetic). Only once did he say ‘get it done’, I think he knew. I don’t think he believed I would be able to drive up there myself. To be honest, I was surprised also. That was totally out of my comfort zone. Maybe I could do this?

I headed down to breakfast and filled up on hot tea and toast. It was all men again. Not a single female. I don’t know why this was bothering me so much but it really was getting to me. It just made me feel so out of place. Don’t get me wrong the other people staying at the hotel certainly were not rude or threatening or condescending or anything negative at all. I got a ‘morning’ off at least one of them. But I was really uncomfortable and I’m afraid to say I just wasn’t in the mind space of flying that ‘vagina’ flag that day.

I headed out to the car with my stuff, packed it all in and tried to have a stern word with myself. Break it down in to little steps. Car is packed. Check. Cycling clothes are on. Check. Nutrition is ready. Check. I put the starting line post code in to the sat nav. I can do this. Once I’m cycling it will be fine. Ok let’s go.

I drove straight home.

Sometimes it’s just not right. No matter what coping mechanisms you use or stern words you tell yourself, it’s just not your day and you have to admit defeat.

But the defeat is only for that day. Not forever.

Yes I am embarrassed that I drove all the way up there, stayed awake in a room for less than 12 hours and then drove all the way back in full cycling gear without having actually cycled.

But I am also pleased that I managed to actually drive there by myself in the first place. Do I think I made the right decision by DNS?

I don’t think I care.

It’s what I did.