In 16 days I will be racing my way through Florida.
At 7:05am in my purple swim cap I will begin the 1.2 mile swim. After I complete the swim I will hop on my bike with sticker number 925 on it and ride 56 miles through Florida farm country; I'm told it exists, I truly cannot picture this. I will end my day with my race belt and my 925 and name around my waist running 13.1 miles. The goal: Race 70.3 miles in less than 8.5 hours. When I put it like that it seems far less crazy than saying "I'm going to go race a Half Ironman in Florida."
Here's the thing about me. Well, let me step back.
When I was in kindergarten I recall so vividly helping my dad in the garage. I'm not sure what project we were doing, and given I was in kindergarten I can't imagine I was actually that helpful. But the thing is I remember that day. I remember there being a nail sticking out of a 2x4. It was just sticking up. Sitting there. Pointing out into the world. My dad ran into the house for something and left me there. I remember touching the nail with my index finger. It was pointy. I remember putting the palm of my hand on it. It was still pointy, but felt different. I remember putting my Left Punk Brewster Hightop on the nail. I felt nothing. I remember pulling my foot up and slamming it down on the nail. It went through my shoe and foot. I ended up with a tetanus shot.
It was sometime during High School that there was a series of break-ins on the street I lived on. This street is just one long street with a bend in the middle of it. There was one street light at each end and one in the middle at the bend. It was actually quite dark. Not everyone in the neighborhood would turn their porch lights on, or were like my parents with lights on sensors/timers. The activist in training that I was decided to do something about it. I decided I was going to research other options, there had to be other options. That was a time where technology was in full swing. Sure, I chatted on AOL instant messenger with my friends, but at that time it was a pretty big deal. With research, facts, figures, numbers in hand I stepped up to the Township board. The street ended up with more energy efficient, brighter bulbs.
In college I threw all caution, all fears, all rational thoughts to the proverbial wind and took a semester off of school and literally moved to Disney World. I worked at Disney World. I slept at Disney World (well right off property). I ate a Disney World. I lived Disney World. I had adventures, random at best. I had experiences. I made friends. I grew. I became brave. I came out of my shell. I experienced the first step in truly accepting who I am and living the moment. I made life long friends.
On a summer break in college I got a phone call to visit my Aunt who was in the area. She was at the local University which also has an airport. She was flying her plane. Yes, you read that, she was flying her plan. I went and visited her and instead of getting to go up with her and see the area I went up with her friend. Her friend was a certified instructor. I flew a plane. I got in a plane, headset, etc. I flew a plane.
So here's the thing about me. I don't necessarily ever take the straight path anywhere. I like to find adventure in challenge even in the smallest things. I like to set out to do something and then do it as well as I can. Granted, that whole slamming my foot down onto a nail ... I'd probably do it differently now than I did as a kindergartner. In fact, I wouldn't do it at all. But, that's the other thing. Life lessons. In setting out to accomplish things, failing, faltering along the way ... you learn. You change. You grow. And I feel like if I were doing none of those things I wouldn't be being successful.
Training for a Half Ironman truly has been the most diligent I've ever been with anything. I'm a methodical, organized person who accomplishes the tasks I set out to. However there's been something awakened in me during this training. I follow the plan almost to the proveribal 't'. 445am alarms are nothing for me. Working out 3 times a day, well it happens. The laundry piles up. I eat nonstop. But I'm doing this. I am in full force of training. In fact, my taper has begun. That means my mileage is decreasing every week leading up to the race. So far I'm trying to handle this, but it's an odd adjustment for me.
As with all of my previously mentioned adventures training for Ironman 70.3 Florida has surprised me. It's slightly awoken me. I see things differently. I have different goals than I did a year ago at this time. Hell, I have different goals than when I started training for this race. I've not found an excuse while training. I got a wicked cold that knocked me out for 5 days. Those 5 days were devastating to me. I knew they wouldn't throw me off track entirely, but I feel like those are 5 days where I didn't learn anything. I didn't grow. I cursed that cold the entire time.
There's a saying that says "Triathlon: A fine line between awesome and vomit." Now during training I've not vomited once. Don't get me wrong, until I figured out nutrition during training ... oh I felt pukey some days. But I've found myself not even on the fine line, but completely and confidently on the side of awesome.
I've set out with random plans and goals before, and it seems this one is no different. I won't know how it ends until I finish the race. I do anticipate that I won't purposefully shove a nail through my foot. The only light bulb that will go off is probably one in my mind. Those life long friends I've made, they'll be there in spirit cheering their little pickle on. I've flown an airplane so I can certainly race 70.3 miles. The goals I've set for myself, never seem scary; they only excite me. This is no different.
At 7:05am in my purple swim cap I will begin the 1.2 mile swim. After I complete the swim I will hop on my bike with sticker number 925 on it and ride 56 miles through Florida farm country; I'm told it exists, I truly cannot picture this. I will end my day with my race belt and my 925 and name around my waist running 13.1 miles. The goal: Race 70.3 miles in less than 8.5 hours. When I put it like that it seems far less crazy than saying "I'm going to go race a Half Ironman in Florida."
Here's the thing about me. Well, let me step back.
When I was in kindergarten I recall so vividly helping my dad in the garage. I'm not sure what project we were doing, and given I was in kindergarten I can't imagine I was actually that helpful. But the thing is I remember that day. I remember there being a nail sticking out of a 2x4. It was just sticking up. Sitting there. Pointing out into the world. My dad ran into the house for something and left me there. I remember touching the nail with my index finger. It was pointy. I remember putting the palm of my hand on it. It was still pointy, but felt different. I remember putting my Left Punk Brewster Hightop on the nail. I felt nothing. I remember pulling my foot up and slamming it down on the nail. It went through my shoe and foot. I ended up with a tetanus shot.
It was sometime during High School that there was a series of break-ins on the street I lived on. This street is just one long street with a bend in the middle of it. There was one street light at each end and one in the middle at the bend. It was actually quite dark. Not everyone in the neighborhood would turn their porch lights on, or were like my parents with lights on sensors/timers. The activist in training that I was decided to do something about it. I decided I was going to research other options, there had to be other options. That was a time where technology was in full swing. Sure, I chatted on AOL instant messenger with my friends, but at that time it was a pretty big deal. With research, facts, figures, numbers in hand I stepped up to the Township board. The street ended up with more energy efficient, brighter bulbs.
In college I threw all caution, all fears, all rational thoughts to the proverbial wind and took a semester off of school and literally moved to Disney World. I worked at Disney World. I slept at Disney World (well right off property). I ate a Disney World. I lived Disney World. I had adventures, random at best. I had experiences. I made friends. I grew. I became brave. I came out of my shell. I experienced the first step in truly accepting who I am and living the moment. I made life long friends.
On a summer break in college I got a phone call to visit my Aunt who was in the area. She was at the local University which also has an airport. She was flying her plane. Yes, you read that, she was flying her plan. I went and visited her and instead of getting to go up with her and see the area I went up with her friend. Her friend was a certified instructor. I flew a plane. I got in a plane, headset, etc. I flew a plane.
So here's the thing about me. I don't necessarily ever take the straight path anywhere. I like to find adventure in challenge even in the smallest things. I like to set out to do something and then do it as well as I can. Granted, that whole slamming my foot down onto a nail ... I'd probably do it differently now than I did as a kindergartner. In fact, I wouldn't do it at all. But, that's the other thing. Life lessons. In setting out to accomplish things, failing, faltering along the way ... you learn. You change. You grow. And I feel like if I were doing none of those things I wouldn't be being successful.
Training for a Half Ironman truly has been the most diligent I've ever been with anything. I'm a methodical, organized person who accomplishes the tasks I set out to. However there's been something awakened in me during this training. I follow the plan almost to the proveribal 't'. 445am alarms are nothing for me. Working out 3 times a day, well it happens. The laundry piles up. I eat nonstop. But I'm doing this. I am in full force of training. In fact, my taper has begun. That means my mileage is decreasing every week leading up to the race. So far I'm trying to handle this, but it's an odd adjustment for me.
As with all of my previously mentioned adventures training for Ironman 70.3 Florida has surprised me. It's slightly awoken me. I see things differently. I have different goals than I did a year ago at this time. Hell, I have different goals than when I started training for this race. I've not found an excuse while training. I got a wicked cold that knocked me out for 5 days. Those 5 days were devastating to me. I knew they wouldn't throw me off track entirely, but I feel like those are 5 days where I didn't learn anything. I didn't grow. I cursed that cold the entire time.
There's a saying that says "Triathlon: A fine line between awesome and vomit." Now during training I've not vomited once. Don't get me wrong, until I figured out nutrition during training ... oh I felt pukey some days. But I've found myself not even on the fine line, but completely and confidently on the side of awesome.
I've set out with random plans and goals before, and it seems this one is no different. I won't know how it ends until I finish the race. I do anticipate that I won't purposefully shove a nail through my foot. The only light bulb that will go off is probably one in my mind. Those life long friends I've made, they'll be there in spirit cheering their little pickle on. I've flown an airplane so I can certainly race 70.3 miles. The goals I've set for myself, never seem scary; they only excite me. This is no different.
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