Motivation

Motivation is fickle.  Some days I can't wait to jump out of bed at 0600 to go swim in a too warm, overcrowded, hairy pool with bits floating in it (not just the frankly impressive number of plasters, but also the old boys who like to come down in the morning for a paddle).  Others, I have to drag myself out of bed after a minimum of 25mins snoozing my alarm and grumble about how unfair life is and wondering why on earth I think this triathlon lark is a good idea.

It's not surprising motivation is so variable.  As anyone who trains regularly in any sport, it's tough.  It physically drains you, leaving you with that persistent ache in your legs that never, ever, ever seems to go, no matter how much you'd like it to.  Thankfully, I've never been struck down much by injury.  Injury is something I live in fear of.  I know that I would a be a miserable, irritable mess if I was forced to sit and watch my fitness disappear in a blur of biscuits, the sofa and poor quality day time television.  Injury is something which would break me.  I don't know whether I would come back from an injury fighting to get back on track, clawing back those lost days and weeks.  I don't know if I'd be so appalled by how sloth-like I had become, I'd struggle to get the sessions in.

The mental fatigue is also huge.  When every session you do seems to leave you a broken mess, stumbling back into the house, it's not surprising the idea of repeating the experience becomes less and less appealing.  When you throw in a demanding University course, it seems all your life consists of is sleeping, lectures and training.  Television becomes something other people do.  Going out?  I don't drink sorry and I have training at 0700 tomorrow.  Dinner happens when everyone else is about to go to bed.  Sunday lie-ins?  Ha.

But despite all that, when it's good, it's oh so good.  Looking back at your week and noting that you did every session planned, smashed every interval and got your hours in you cannot help but be proud of that.  The look on people's faces when I tell then I tend to get between 9 and 11 sessions a week of training in is frankly priceless.

I'm looking forward to Winter.  I'm only 3 days in to my winter training, after a lovely fortnight of "off season" but I'm loving it.  I'm genuinely excited to see what happens after this winter.  I'm undoubtedly stronger than ever and with a winter of training behind me, next year is promising.  I'm nervous to set goals, but I have ideas of what I'd like to achieve next season.  I'm going to keep them to myself for now, as they will undoubtedly be influenced by how successful this winter is.  Things can only get better.

We are what we repeatedly do.  Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit.