Ironman CDA is coming for me, roaring down on me.
I would be remiss to say that, obviously, I just want to finish IM-CDA. But there's a little more to it than that. See, the thing is, most of my life I've managed AD/HD. When you grow up with it, you acquire a lot of little demons. They whisper things at you when you're at your most vulnerable. Lazy. Incompetent.
Most of my life, I've been chased by one little demon in particular: one that whispers in my ear:
You just got lucky.
When I got my first degree, I remember thinking, boy, I was lucky that the professors all liked me! There's other examples, but it's not useful to write about them. The result of all of it is that I make the following attribution to my achievements: If I did it, it can't be that hard or I just got by, or it was easy that day etc. etc. etc.
Triathlon is the first thing I've ever been able to do that was all me, no luck involved, and it's been great for my self esteem. It doesn't matter who you know. You do the work, and finish, or you don't, and then you don't.
But then, last year at Ironman Louisville last they extended the finishing time by 37 minutes. My finishing time, 17:19, the last official finisher. And there was the little demon again, whispering: Boy, lucky for you they extended that cutoff.
I've never admitted it, but that's bothered me a bit. Yes, I finished. Yes, I followed all the rules. But since my issue is 'getting by' it's pushed a very big button.
and all this goes back to the sneaking suspicion that really, I'm just not all that special, and
one of these days, everyone will know it. They'll all find out. Then they'll all know the truth.
There are cutoffs halfway on the bike, and the run. They aren't any different from the cutoffs I would have imposed on myself. But there they are, gnashing their teeth at me. Beat me! Beat me!
This time there will be no time extension by which I can hedge my bets. If I don't make the cutoffs (1:30 pm, pacific time, for the first bike loop; 5:30 for the end of the bike; 9 pm for the 1st run loop) then I'm done.
But if, when, I do make it, then I've really made it. Maybe the whispering, naggy self-doubt will stop. I guess. Now, I know before you tell me that all this sounds really, really stupid: I'm still me, whether I finish or not. But you know, we all have our demons, our buttons, and issues, and now I've told you mine.
I'm going to get up tomorrow and walk into the lake in Coeur D'Alene Idaho and head out, and try to beat the moon, and go Ironman a second time.
As Commodore says, this one Ironman doesn't doesn't define me.
It is nevertheless very important to me. More than I want to admit. So, In addition to my somewhat lacksadaisical training and legendary stubbornness and the many, many phantom pains I've dicovered that come an go right before a race, I'll take onto the course all the best of my friends to sustain me, including:
Sweet Baboo's love.
This will be my last post until after the race.
BEAT THE MOON!!!!