INSIDE THIS ISSUE
MAY 2011
TCSD Contacts Board Members Volunteer Committee Weekly Workout Calendar
TRIATHLON CLUB OF SAN DIEGO
2 2 2 5
Member Profile New Members TCSD Conversation Race Report
5 6 7 12
TCSD Cares Updates Coach’s Corner: Nutrition Coach’s Corner: Bike Made with Kashi
14 17 18 19
TriNews
A
Frank Admission
By Barbara Javor
A Tale of Fiction
MAY TRIATHLON May 14th Saturday, 7:00 am Location: Fiesta Island
MAY AQUATHLON Thursday May 26th 5:00 pm check-in begins 5:45 pm course talk 6:00 pm race start time Location: La Jolla Shores
MAY CLUB MEETING TBD
Refer to the Club’s website for the latest details.
early four years ago, I killed a man—at least I felt like I did. My boyfriend’s buddy, Frank, had been hitting on me. I thought he was a jerk, and I told him to stop. One day he tried again in a parking lot, pinning me against my car. I threatened to tell my boyfriend. Frank laughed, saying he’d tell my boyfriend I had come onto him. As he pushed into me, I shoved him hard. Still laughing, he backed away right into the path of a car backing out from a parking space. I froze. In that split second I could have yelled a warning, but I did nothing, and I don’t know why. That’s the moment I can’t get out of my mind. I watched Frank’s body glance off the car. He lost his balance and hit his head when he fell on the pavement. The next day Frank was dead. After he died, my guilt, anger, remorse, and a host of other emotions remained my albatross. I never wanted Frank dead. I wanted him to quit bothering me or, better yet, just disappear. After Frank’s death, blame and doubt tarnished the relationship with my boyfriend, and we split up. I turned so far inward that most of my friends stopped calling. The only activity that gave me respite from my emotions was running,
and it soon became my drug and drink of choice. The endorphins from long runs put me in La-la land, and the fatigue from exercise took away the edge of negativity. I was addicted to running for the first year after Frank’s death, but it began to lose its power over me when I didn’t have the time or stamina to increase my weekly mileage any more. Around that time, a friend introduced me to triathlon. Three sports, three different workouts, three ways to produce endorphins and fatigue, three ways to sling that albatross off my neck. I became a triathlon junkie. It took a bite out of my checkbook between upgrading equipment and the cost of traveling and races, but it was worth it. Triathlon gave me some peace from the never-ending nightmare of my role in Frank’s death. One Saturday a few weeks before a race, I went on a long ride up the coast. Bicycling solo as usual, I came across a group ride with cyclists filling the bike lane, many riding two abreast and straddling the lane line. Just as I reached them, they decided to stop at an intersection and wait for stragglers. continued on page 6