We live in an age of instant gratification.  Quick fixes.

  • Where popping a pill can adjust our mood as needed.
  • Where  we can lose 5kg a week by simply taking a few drops of some herbal-all-natural-approved-by-scientists-may-give-you-kidney-failure-but-you-don’t-care concoction.
  • Where our bosses expect an answer to a work BBM at 2 in the morning.
  • Where, in the current Romney-Obama debate, one candidate proposes a long-term and more sustainable solution, while the other plays to the American’s expectation of an insta-fix.
  • Where children are quickly given the ADD label and medicated so that teachers can cope in the classroom (this is a massive generalization but something I have personally experienced with my own child).
  • Where people expect jobs / promotions / recognition right here, right now, without being willing to apply the elbow grease needed to make their mark.
  • Where, when given the choice, we’ll rather buy instant porridge than the good, old-fashioned (and, frankly, healthier) version.  Because… why wait 5 minutes to cook your oats when it can be nuked in 30 seconds flat?!?

First World Problems

So, if I’m against instant gratification in all shapes and forms, why then am I expecting a quick fix to the challenges I experience in my training?

Why do I expect to be the fastest swimmer when I have only just learnt how to swim?  Or the fastest runner when I only started running last year?

I had a particularly good track session last night.  Not because I was fast (I was, in fact, second slowest, as usual), but because I didn’t feel like I was going to die and because my recovery in between sessions was remarkable.

This followed a really great super secret session in the water on Monday night, where I was able to relax and as a result had a strong but relaxed stroke and posture (big win!!).

And, let me not forget about my new 21km PB in the Gun Run two weeks ago!

There are less than 100 days to go to the Ironman 70.3 (89 sleeps, to be exact – EEEK!!!), and every now and then I find myself freaking out over my performance.  But the universe has sent me a myriad of angels and signs, and dozens of e-mails and conversations that regularly steer me away from the panic and into a zone of clarity and hope.

There’s still time to improve.  Still time to work hard.  Still time to show coach Evil Steve that I’m not completely useless in various bodies of water.

All I need to do is believe.  Because there is no quick fix.  Only the reward that comes with hard work.