Jack and Jill

In the movie Hitch, Will Smith plays the titular character, a matchmaker whose specialty is helping men find a way into the hearts of the women of their dreams.  He meets Kevin James’ character, an overweight, short, frumpy accountant who has fallen in love with a beautiful, famous and wealthy socialite who doesn’t know he exists.  Hitch decides to take on this client, considering it his greatest challenge, a masterpiece akin to the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. 

This plotline resonates with me.  In Ironman training terms, I am Kevin James, and I now have my very own Hitch.  Jack Braconnier at Walton Endurance, an outstanding coach and amazing triathlete himself, has agreed to oversee my training.  Jack typically trains pros and athletes in contention for age group awards, people who can do things like swimming and cycling and running.  I’ve seen him help beginners too, such as the lady at swim class last month who told me she had only swum for the very first time ever just two months previously, and then proceeded to drop me in her wake. 

Jack’s generally awesome.  He is incredibly positive and super nice.  And while he’s smiling at you and chanting supportive things, he is employing every nasty tool in his sadistic little arsenal.  My friend Ashley, a very strong swimmer and accomplished triathlete, attends his weekly swim class.  Each week, “how was class, Ashley?”  “Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t throw up in the pool.”  Or, “afterwards we were just lying on the deck because we couldn’t move.”  This week, she went to cycling class.  “That was the hardest cycling workout of my life.”  Jack is smart and knows his audience.   We are overly eager weekend warriors who are willing to suffer endlessly for the sole purpose of crossing a finish line either at all or faster than we did it last time.  We don’t need yelling and cajoling, only suggestions.  We volunteered for this crap, just for the “fun” of it.  So when he tells us to swim a bunch of 100-meter drills as hard as we can, we nod and go.  This allows Jack to get away with all sorts of vicious tactics. 

Jack is convinced he can get me across that Ironman finish line.  He’s so optimistic he’s even saying things like he thinks he can get me out of the slow lane at swim class.  I don’t think he’s come to terms with what he’s up against.  This I can help him with.  In fact, I’ve already started this process. 

Last week he sent me my training plan for this past weekend and this coming week.  After five separate e-mails asking how to log in to Training Peaks (yes, I know my job revolves around expertise in Internet-based programs.  Shut up.), I was finally able to review the weekend workouts.  This immediately precipitated the first of what will probably be many “I trust your methods, but….” type communications.  I immediately started negotiating for longer distances.  Jack’s thinking long-term goal.  I’m thinking of how rare it is to have an overcast, cool day in July.  Jack is right.  This will have to be my mantra.  Jack is right.  This is not easy for me.  I am very independently minded, i.e. stubborn, so I will have to teach myself to trust the person who actually does know what he’s doing.  

I think it really started to hit him today how deep the hole he’s in with me.  We had a lovely chat.  It started with the thunderstorm problem.  He gets to figure out how to incorporate 8-15 hours of outdoor training a week in the summer for a client who won’t go outside when there’s a chance of a storm.  Then he asked how I felt on my ride.  “Well, my hip hurt, and of course my shoulder is all messed up, and the achilles tendon problem….”  I challenge any octogenarian to outdo the list of aches and pains I whined about on this call.  Finally we jumped into the emotional baggage I still carry around from my failures in elementary school gym and how that makes me afraid of swim class.    If you were searching for Jack this afternoon, he was probably shaking his head over a stiff drink.  

When I stumble across the finish line at Beach to Battleship, Jack will have earned his share of that glory.  The medal, however, will be mine.