Today is Canada Day. The Canadians July 4th equivalent, minus the monster fireworks, the apple pie, the jingo-ism and by and large, the historic significance.

But what we will have… is a Triathlon. Yes, a mere two weeks after the last, three events- swimming, cycling and running- in, today, an effort to earn our festive national celebration. Apparently trying to make up for our nation’s lack of any real defining historic moments such as, say, the signing of The Declaration of Independence. Ahhh…. proud to be Canadian.

Anyways, the difference between this event and the last, other than the festive national celebration to follow, is that this is The Inaugural. The Very First. And last but not least, after the swim. Entirely. Uphill.

After a lovely 650 metres in our lovely pool, we make our way, another 12 kms, by mountain bike and then by foot, up… up… up… to, and around, our local ski hill. Before we get the t-shirt. The burger. The beer.

The problem is this is the first time for this event in our area. Really, this should take the pressure off- reinforce the notion of just plain old wholesome, athletic FUN… but I find myself distracted, considering irrationally all of the possible worst case scenarios of this, a very first time event.

OK… so my fear is the biggest issue will be the lack of volunteers. After all, any event such as this is only as good as it’s team of generous and unpaid support! Which means, few, if any, water stations on the course. Also, too few playing a supporting role on the course to ensure all participants are alive and accounted for… and as I am fairly confident I will be one of the last out of the pool and most definitely will lag behind the pack on my shitty, old, kluged and bungee’d, mountain bike, therefore, assuming I have not taken the wrong turn at the fork in the pitifully unmarked trail, bringing me in last to start the run… where I will be parched- thanks to the lack of water stations on course… and I will, as the last participant on the trail, have the ironic misfortune of coming across an annoyed and hungry black bear and her cubs- bothered at having watched other meal opportunities sprint nimbly by- relieved to finally see an available, not to mention adequately fleshy, meal within easy swiping distance. Meanwhile, I have nothing left in the tank. Not to run. Not to climb. Not even to pee. And I will be dragged through the dense bush to my violent and bloody demise. While my family enjoys the music, hotdogs and beer garden.

As I lay here on my comfy couch despondent relaxing before the big event, the wiggly jiggly flesh butterflies are all I can feel of my stomach…. Despite telling myself repeatedly this is a FUN event, just finishing is the goal- times bedamned- I still have that nervous, nauseous tummy and I am wishing I had just never signed us up!

I just want to enjoy this holiday and the fun without the fucking strings! Bottom line at this point, committed and unable, no-unwilling- to back out… Yeah, I just want to finish, alright… ALIVE!

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