Post #500

Haiku, in honor of the 5 or so hours that I spent at DFW, the wait on the runway at ABQ for a gate, and the long wait for the luggage afterwards.

Texas thunderstorm

living in airports sucks, but

at least there's wi-fi.

I realized yesterday when I signed into Blogger that this would be my 500th post. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. While working on this, I'm sitting at DFW which has, mercifully, a good Internet connection, and I'm switching back and forth between writing this and tracking my blogger peeps at IM-Moo. Go, Greyhound, Go!!
Well, so how best to commemorate this. I thought I would come up with 92 more things that people might not know about me. Lets see how this goes.

1. I find it really annoying when people walk toward me on sidewalks or in hallways on the wrong side. Did they not go to elementary school? Were they not told to stay on the right side?
2. I used to walk into people deliberately and then act surprised and say, "Oh! I didn't expect you to be there. On this side of the sidewalk, and all."
3. Then I recognized that this was unhealthy, passive-agressive behavior so now I just look right at them so that there is no mistaking that I will not move, and they go around me.
4. I really identify with Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life.
5. I know my job's important, but I'd rather be doing something else.
6. I have at some point wanted to be the following when I "grew up": teacher, oceanographer, geohydrologist, structural biologist, instructional technologist, counselor, psychologist, educational researcher, and psychiatrist.
7. I love to soak in the bathtub. For hours.
8. And nap. I fantasize about having a big, string hammock for when I'm off in the summer.
9. At home, I'm so messy.
10. Sweet Baboo doesn't clean up after me, though. He makes small noises of protest and frustraton until I feel bad and then I clean up after myself.
11. I don't feel hunger like normal people--I don't get hunger pangs or sick.
12. My feet don't sweat unless I'm ill.
13. I'm thinking that the non-sweaty feet no-hunger thing is an advantage in endurance events.
14. When I was a kid, I was seriously and brutally good at "Red Rover".
15. I have a particular dislike for men who stand reallllly close when they talk to me.
16. I feel like they're trying to sell me something.
17. Except for Sweet Baboo, of course, who could stand right on my feet and not bother me a bit.
18. I have asthma. If I didn't take Advaire, I'd be using Albuterol several times a day and visiting the ER.
19. Advaire works for me whether or not I believe in it, meditate, or keep crystals, and I will argue mightily in favor of 'western medicine' because of that simple fact alone.
20. Even though I may listen politely and even enthusiastically about alternative healing, I am a skeptic.
21. Which means, show me the research.
22. I can't sleep at night unless some part of me - even a foot - is touching Sweet Baboo.
23. I've started and quit two doctoral (Ph.D.) programs. It's hard to doctoral work with full time jobs and kids.
24. One of my fellow counseling students, however, suggested that I was afraid of success.
25. I suggested that she read less pop psychology and more research.
26. So my "one thing" for Ironman Louisville was that I wanted to finish something arduous that I'd started, to sort of replace my Ph.D.
27. People reallllly piss me off when they take up two spots, or park so that others can't get in or out of their car.
28. Once I walked into a nail salon and said, really loudly, "Gee, I wish I had a giant SUV so I could park however the hell I wanted and not care about anyone but myself!"
    Chuckles ensued.
    Then, about ten minutes later, a woman who was leaving hissed to me, "Good luck with your SUV plans!" before getting into her double-parked SUV and speeding off.
29. Now I just leave anonymous notes on windshields.
30. It makes me feel better.
31. I always make sure nobody is watching when I leave them.
32. Last week I left a note to a man where I said that just because he thought his car was his penis didn't mean that he had to try to cram it into the tightest spot imaginable.
33. I'm pretty sure Sweet Baboo, is going to be very distressed when he reads about that. But Pirate thought it was hilarious.
34. In middle school, when I did the President's Physical Fitness test, I would only run when the coach was watching. I hated running and sweating.
35. In high school, for my PE credit, I took swimming and bowling because I figured they required the least amount of work.
36. When I was in my twenties, I was depressed, and I walked everywhere looking down at the ground.
37. Then I decided one day to stop doing that.
38. It was really scary, because when I started training myself to look up, I had to make eye contact with people, then I had to talk to them.
39. I once plumbed in a washing machine all by myself.
40. I've also cut my own wood, piped in my own wood stove, rewired a lamp, installed light fixtures and thermostats, built my own cheap ugly cabinets.
41. I once painted an entire two-story wood clabbord house, except for the very top where there were wasps nests.
42. I really hate my face.
43. But I'm learning to live with it.
44. I am a terrible liar.
45. That's not a "bit". I can't lie well at all.
46. If I was a doctor I would be so bad at it, because I would just burst into tears and I'd be all like, "OMG; you're gonna die!"
47. I have a good firm handshake.
48. I think less of people who don't have good firm handshakes.
49. My favorite video game is Dr. Mario.
50. I even have an NES emulator on my home computer so that I can play it.
51. WHen I was a little girl, I used to do cartwheels and summersaults on the balance beam.
52. When I talk to my sister in Alabama on the phone, my southern accent comes back.
53. These days, I'm much more interested in human behavior than I am in numbers.
54. It just so happens that mathematics teaching pays better, and needs more people.
55. I took ballet when I was a kid.
56. I tried to join the Military when I was 21.
57. I got kicked out for arguing with the ballet instructor.
58. I hate Larry the Cable Guy with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, for reasons I will not explain.
59. However, I adore Dane Cook.
60. 99% of the time, my TV is on Comedy Central.
61. I watch a lot of television, and am a huge fan of Southpark.
62. Laughing is, like, one of my favorite things in the whole world.
63. I chose Kentucky for my first Ironman because it was close to where my relatives live.
64. The ones who didn't come, write, or call about the event. Those realatives.
65. I'm probably unlikely to choose another endurance event back east between April and October again.
66. My relatives and old friends aren't interested in triathlon or anything I've done.
67. So I think it means my old friends aren't my friends any more. Which is sad.
68. I mean, I listen about kids, grandchildren, cross stitch, gardening projects, choir, church, et cetera, so WTF?
69. It's times like this, and like at Ironman Louisville, that I miss my mom.
70. Even though she would have agreed with Mama Baboo that I'm insane, she still would have been there, taking pictures, and then she would have painted one of them.
71. When I was little my mom used to paint pictures of me all the time, and in my back yard now, there is a statue of me when I was ten years old.
72. One of the pictures she painted was me swinging on a rope, and she called it, "Flying Mist."
73. Another picture my mom painted of me one was of me standing next to my beloved rope with my arm in a cast, and she called it "Flightless Mist."
74. I wonder, what would she have called a picture of me crossing an Ironman finish line?
75. I'm really good at keeping other people's secrets. No really. Seriously.
76. I'm just not good at keeping my own.
77. I have congenitally soft tooth enamel. I think congenital is the right term.
78. I inheirited that from my father (Thanks, Dad).
79. I have ten crowns and all my remaining teeth have been filled at least twice.
80. That's why I'm switching back to Perpetuum, because it has anti-tooth decay stuff in it.
81. I also have a fast metabolism. Not in an "I'm so skinny; I wish I could gain weight" sort of way, but as in "We'll have to give you some additional shots of novacane before we finish filling your teeth" sort of way. This after I make a loud noise through the dental dam while they're drilling, because, HEY, I CAN FEEL THAT!!
82. I make most of my own earrings and necklaces.
83. I sculpted some nudes for the state art show when I was nine.
84. They were rejected because they were in oil clay, which isn't permanant media.
85. My mom said they were rejected because it was Alabama, 1974, nakedness and I was nine.
86. I smoked cigarettes for ten years.
87. One day, on November 5th, 1996, I had the mother of all asthma attacks and thought, "this is stupid" so I quit.
88. I'm loyal.
89. I can't manage my money.
90. I've never been called "shy".
91. I have, however, been called "hoity toity."
92. I can't bake. Everything I bake collapses, or falls apart into a pile of crumbs, and looks like crap.

...

Woohoo!

My heart goes out to everyone who raced yesterday - regardless of the outcome. For those that did not finish, even more so. I know that you made the best decision you could based on your health and welfare and the people who depend on you.

Congratulations to everyone who raced yesterday, regardless of the outcome. You signed up, you showed up and toed the start line and took off at the gun/cannon/air horn/whistle/guy shouting "go!"

A shout out to the new Ironmen among us. I look forward to reading about your race an post-race experiences. I look foward to reading all your racing posts. There were so many of you that it might take me a while!

curious things

• Pajama pants in public. This used to be a sign of clinical depression or homelessness; now it's a sign of...what? Casual ineptitude? Trendiness? I just don't know.
  
• Loose tea in a tea bag. I saw this at the airport. I hate to nitpick, but if it's in a tea bag, it's not loose tea any more. It's a tea bag. But this stuff says, "Loose tea experience - in a convenient tea bag!" All for $6.99.
  

A haiku, in honor of my mini-break weekend:

• Hot and sweaty place
• Sucks the life right outta me
• Damn, I hate Dallas.

Sweet Baboo is at a clinic to become a USAT racing official here in Dallas, and then will practice at the PrairieMan tomorrow. My daughter lives here, but so far contact has been a comedy of errors as she has somehow made her only phone non-operational, and left me one message referring constantly to "this number" as in "Just call me back at this number" without ever telling me what, "this number" was. She called while my cell phone was off, too, so there's no "this number" on my caller ID.

I went for a run this morning with Sweet Baboo out at Joe Pool lake, host to tomorrow's Prairie Man Half Iron Tri, which AndraSue is running in. There signs all over the park and around the lake about the event. The lady at the toll booth asked for $10 to get into the park. When we asked if people would be allowed to go in and drive the course, she said, "Prairie man? What's that? I don't know what that is."

I blurted out, "What? You've got signs all over the park!" and she repeated drily and without humor that she didn't know what that was and again asked for $10. VERY unlike Texas, where most people are at least sweet and apologetic when they take your money. Plus, I mean, if you went to work and there were signs all over the place advertising a major event, wouldn't you at some point say to a coworker, hey, what or who is "the Prairie Man?"

When I did my run, I remembered why I don't live in Dallas any more. Running? Fuggetaboutit. It never would have happened. My eight-mile run was awful. I was diappointed because I LOVE running at sea level; I feel all fast and stuff. But it was hot, and it was humid, and my heartrate would NOT COME DOWN. Ugh. So I was soaked, tired, and panting. Sweet Baboo said that means I'm still recovering fro IMLoo.

My hat is off to Greyhound and a host of other people who do their training in really humid places. Yikes. I've said before that I hate the feeling of sweat rolling down any part of me; I would do insane here. I'd have to have cotton balls tucked all over my body and sweat bands around the rest just to get away from it.

Before you get all excited and think, "mmm, sexy sweaty triathlete!" let me assure you that is not what I'm all about. Your imagination thinks this:



But in reality, it was more like this:



Later on we're going to have dinner with AndraSue, who is doing the Prairie Man tomorrow as her first half, and her baboo (notice the lower case; only my Sweet Baboo gets capitalized on my blog)

....

What teachers find in their inboxes

For the third time this year I've found an invitation to a "party" from another teacher who is trying to start her own home business. I'm going to go ahead and say "her" because I've never gotten one of these from a male teacher.

I don't know what to make of the bearer of these invitations - either they are desperate to get out of the classroom, or desperate to increase their income, or both, more sympathetic I could not be; the problem is that they are trying to sell things to people who, like themselves, have a rather fixed income. One staff member is involved in three such home businesses. Another one is involved in her second in as many years, the first one being in erotic products (I have to admit, that was a fun party)

And it's not that the stuff isn't nice! Most of the time, it is. It's just that most of the time, I can get it on sale and save a lot of money. I LIKE my friends. Heck, some of them I love But not enough to support them by spending money on items I probably don't need or could get much less expensively elsewhere.

In any case it gets old. Once the year is rolling, I'll get one of these in my inbox once a week. So I'm thinking of creating an all-purpose invitation for folks so that they can just check off the boxes instead of doing up the invite in Word. It would look something like this:

P A R T Y ! !

I'm having a party at my house! You're invited; feel free to bring your sense of adventure, as well as
() a friend
() your checkbook
() a hot dish
() cash
() a credit card
() a couple hours to kill

At my party, we'll chat, relax, and meet new people. You'll also have the chance to preview some exciting new--!
() overpriced makeup
() overpriced candles
() overpriced sex toys, lotions, and creams
() overpriced cooking utensils
() overpriced spices and condiments
() multi-level marketing schemes
() ideas about God, death, the afterlife, and paradise on earth

My party will start
() promptly at 4:00
() around 4-ish
() when I realize that, now I know who my REAL friends are
() whenever people gullible enough show up do so
() whenever I realize that, once again, I've been sucked into sinking a buttload of money into overpriced product inventory and I start hitting the wine.

...and last until
() the last person escapes
() the last person leaves
() I finally realize nobody is coming
() I eat all the treats and canapes I baked and pass out in a sugar and/or fried-food induced coma
() I bitterly admit to myself that nobody has my sense of adventure and entrepeneurship

~~~RSVP!

() Hugs and kisses
() See you there!
() Love
() Desperately
() Hopefully
() Optimistically
() Regards

,

() a work collegue you barely know
() a work collegue your sort of know
() a work collegue you've never met
() a work collegue you like quite a bit who has decided to take advantage of your friendship

=======================================

In other news: Tomorrow is Sweet Baboo's birthday. Send him some comment love.

...

Friends don't let friends tri and drive.

Just when I was hoping to have achieved some sort of Guru status I am sharply reminded that I am, after all, a ditz, albeit an Iron ditz. Allow me to share an anecdote from my recent (last week) past.
I will call this short story, "Why you should not drive within 48 hours of doing an Ironman." and those close to me have already heard it, because Mini-baboo was a witness and I wanted to do the telling before he did so that, hopefully, I would not come across looking as stupid as I feel.

SO I was getting ready to leave work Tuesday afternoon, two days after Ironman Loo, and suddenly asked myself, where are my keys? Not in my purse...hmmm...not on my desk. Could I have left them on the cart? OMG, did a student take them?

Crap.

I checked lost and found...nothing there.

I asked Judy, the school secretary, because she knows everything, Judy, where are my keys?
Judy did not know.

Finally I decided to see if I left them in my car. On the way to the car, Mini-Baboo was walking with me. Well, skulking behind, actually. Teenagers rarely just "walk" because it's not cool enough and teenage boys certainly don't walk with their mothers because it might ruin their rep so they skulk behind them trying to make sure nobody thinks they are walking with their mothers while simultaneously staying close enough in case they need food, money, or a ride home.

So as I said, I was walking to see if my keys were my car, feeling confident that if they were it would be no big deal since I usually leave my car windows down a few inches.

and you know what? They were! But wait. It gets better.

...wait for it...wait for it...





the car was RUNNING.

Yes, that's right. Even better, I was not the first to discover this. As I crossed the lot my path converged with another teacher as we were crossing the parking lot and I was sharing with her my plight, and as we got closer to the car, she suddenly interrupted my story--
"Hey, did you know your car was running?"

Um. Uh.

Uh.

"Has your car been running all day?"

Mmm-hmm. Yep. Apparently, after arriving to work a little late last Tuesday morning I got out and walked away about 7:15 am, leaving it running, with keys in, doors unlocked, in a high school teacher's parking lot. At 3:15, and it was still running. (Since it is a Honda, it still had gas in it.)

and, yes, I am aware of how lucky I was, thank you very much. As absent minded as I am most of the time, I (and several of those who know me well) are pretty convinced that I may be one of the luckiest people alive.)

I'm equally aware that I'm not only lucky but ditzy. I need no reminding of this.

The hardest part was acting cool when my work collegue discovered it. And yes, she remembered; she asked me about it yesterday, fully a week later. Which reminded me of it and I thought you might find it entertaining.

Of course, it would be much easier to blame this on recovery fogginess if it weren't for the fact that I drove off two weeks ago while the gas nozzle was still stuck in my gas tank. I'll blame that one on heavy training. And just in case anyone is worried that this is a symptom of some sort of advancing neurological problem, ten years ago I set my house on fire by accident because I was heating oil to fry food and I forgot. It burst into flames, catching the cabinet above it on fire. Oh, and remember earlier this year, I lost a single shoe? That I was wearing? While I was sitting at my desk? yeah. Such is my life.

But, so anyway, I'm a trivia nut, so here's a new trivia fact: did you know that gas stations have special connections for just such an occasion? They snap off at a juncture at the pump in such a way that they can just be easily snapped back on, and the gas is automatically stopped.

...

Moving on.

It is a truth universal that at some point in a young man's development, he will hate his father.

His father will hate him back.

And they will both want Mom/wife to do something about it.

So I did. I took a warm bath. And did sudoku.

Ahhh, but it was lovely....epsom salts, lavendar oil, and the window next to the tub open and a nice breeze flowing over me.

I'm not saying that teenage Mini-me isn't without his faults. Oh, my. If you only knew. I'll spare you the details, being as some of you are planning your families, some of you have children on the way, and others have already young children in the house so it's too late for you; who am I to ruin what little time you have left to enjoy them?

It's just that Mini-Baboo is a bit, shall we say, difficult these days, refusing to do what is expected of him.

He claims he "forgot" that he wasn't supposed to do that, or that he was supposed to do this...etc.

And, because Sweet Baboo was never, ever this irascible as a teenager he simply doesn't understand why we just can't sell him to the circus right now.

So, anyway.

While I was taking my warm bath I was thinking about all the things I'd like to do in the future.

The thing is, every time I do something difficult, especially something that I wasn't sure I could actually do, I go through the following stages:

Stage 1: During the event itself, I curse it and everyone whose involved with it and anyone who ever encouraged me to do it. I curse the natural elements that are making my progress difficult. I curse my mother for bequeathing to me her short and stubby legs. etc., etc.

Stage 2: Immediately after the event, I refuse to think about it.

Stage 3: A few days later, the painful details of the event start to wash hazy in my brain. I have a horrible memory, which is why I'm such a good friend to have. Most of the time, I won't remember what it was you did to piss me off, or I'll forget how angry it made me and think it couldn't have been THAT bad. Like right now, I'm thinking my sister and I must have been in a fight, and that's why I haven't heard from her in nearly a month, nor did she congratulate me on my Ironman finish, nor have I gotten any responses to my five emails.

I also forget about how long and arduous the training was. I recall vaguely thinking to myself at some point during July, Oh, my GAWD this is hard. How do non-teachers fit all this in?

Stage 4: It settles in, and I begin to have dangerous thoughts, such as, "I wonder what else I could do?"

So here I am at stage four. I've been mousing around the Internet and racking up a fantasy list of races I'd like to do someday.

I'm already signed up for Ironman Coeur D'Arlen since, while a judicous response to Sweet Baboo's pronouncement that he was going to do it would have been something like, "Good for you! What is the course like? How about the climate that time of year? Any wind on the course?"

yes, that would have been judicious of me, wouldn't it?

Instead, I said, "Cool! Put me down too."

So like I said, fantasy things. Actually, more than fantasy, a sort-of to-do list of things I'd like to accomplish in the world of endurance stuff.

First, I'd like to do a marathon in every state. I'm wise enough to realize that in order to do this I'm going to have to do at least three or so a year. (Except Alabama. Until my sister starts returning my emails, Alabama is blacklisted from my marathon goals for, like, EVAR) The run at the end of an Ironman counts, too.

I must be pretty lucky because at the end of each of the two marathons I've done, and most of my long runs these days, I'm usually not sore, nor have I had problems with blisters or muscle spasms.

Second, I'd like to do one or two more Ironman races, carefully avoiding any that have the word "challenging" and "rolling" in their course descriptions from now on, but mostly I think I'd like to do a few 70.3's in nice locals.

So here's my fantasy list of to-do endurance races, for now.

• The inaugural Mississippi Blues marathon in Jackson in 2008.


• Either the Duke City or the Fiesta de Albuquerque here, depending on which one I hear better things about.


• Goofy's Challenge in Walt Disney, California


• the Portland Marathon, where my father-in-law lives. He's pretty entertaining, and I enjoy visiting him.
  
• The San Antonio marathon, where my mother-in-law lives. This one goes past all the missions.


• Ironman Florida.


• Ironman 70.3 Buffalo Springs


• Ironman 70.3 Cancun. (Look at the website for this! Swimming in clear torquois waters? Running past Mayan ruins? Droooooooollllll.)


• Vineman 70.3.
  

I'll probably add to this list as time goes by, but that's what's on my mind for now.

As for the rest of 2007, I'm "off" until the end of October, when I do the SOMA half -iron in tempe. Duane will be there, doing the quarterman, and I think Nytro and Benny will be there, and Pirate is doing the half, too, although I'm fairly certain that she'll have time to finish, shower, and freshen up before meandering over to the finish line to wave me in.

Oh, and I have an appointment on September 15th for the IM tattoo.

...

LooAville pics. And some thoughts about DFL

I've read/heard comments here and there about the fact that I took longer than 17 hours to finish Ironman Louisville.

I've heard/read about how lucky I was that the cutoff was extended because of the change in the swim start. I've been asked about whether or not it "counts" as an official finish.

I'm not angry about it, or hurt. I've been thinking about it. I wanted to collect my thoughts into a coherent assemblage of utterances to explain what it means that I "almost didn't finish."

About what it means to be, most of the time, last or nearly last, and why it is

meaningless.

I like this T-shirt, not just for me. It sums up part of how I feel

...about my first Olympic distance, in which I was also DFL.

...about my first half iron, in which, I believe, I was nearly DFL.



I did this triathlon with a bunch of friends and, of course, Sweet Baboo. I was also lucky enough to have some in-house cheerleaders and of course, a lot of support and cheering going on in Blogland, which still humbles and amazes me.

(That's Sweet Baboo, Me, and my fabulous mother-in-law and her husband Gordon in the top photo, right, the day before the race, in Louisville. In second photo, is Me and Sweet Baboo, and Mary Sunshine, and Dying Water Buffalo)

Some of my Albuquerque friends are fast. CRAZY. Fast. There is a picture of all of us on a previous post below, entitled, "Run, part 2"

Did you know? Ironman started in 1978 as a wager between friends about which one was the most fit: a swimmer, a cyclist, and a runner. In 1982, because the Kona race had attracted so many participants, the first cutoff time was introduced, 18 1/2 hours. Ironman.com does not give a reason for this time having been chosen, such as lactic thresholds or research or such.

The following year, it was changed to 17 hours. No reason. It is what it is.They can't let it go on forever, right? I mean, the volunteers have to go home some time.

There are some smaller iron-distance races in the US that don't have this type of cutoff system.

But there it is.

I've discovered that each person who does a triathlon, whether it's a sprint or a long course, has a different demon facing them when they step or jump or run into the water.

For some, it's the voices in their head that say they aren't good enough,
fast enough,
strong enough...
they want to silence those voices.

For others, it's more tangible: they need a goal for exercising.

Some beat back the ghosts: failures, "errors of judgement", bad decisions, guilty pleas - whatever...
"Each step or mile is like a giant eraser" that cancels out those mistakes. John "The Penguin" Bingham said that.

Some just like doing something that most people find very hard to do.


every single amateur or pro, whether they are fast or slow, will head into the same river, lake, ocean, inland sea or pool, and face their demons.

and every one of them is nervous.

They may not look it, but each hopes they trained hard enough and that they'll meet whatever goals they have...when they face the river, lake, ocean, inland sea, or pool...and most feel that they are unique in that respect.

As for me, I'll tell you a secret: according to my training times, I should not have been able to finish any long course triathlon I've ever attempted.

And yet, well... here I am. Proof that stubbornness trumps speed in many cases.



And so it was, at Louisville, we all went into the same river, toward the same same sunrise, and swam the same distance.

Then we pedaled the same bike distance, on the same road, cursing the same hills. Laughed at the same weird guy dressed like a devil. Smiled at the same folks in LaGrange going crazy with cowbells and yelling. Couldn't wait to get off the bike.

Then we all ran the same 26.2 miles. Throughout the race, we all followed the same rules, and ran, or walked, and sweated (and sometimes vomited) our guts out... and then crossed the same finish line.

Yes, some of us did it faster. But we all did the same distance

and the heavier, slower ones? Probably expended more energy.

So, who is the better athlete? The ones for whom covering the distance is easy, or the ones for whom it is hard?

What does it mean to be a triathlete?

Because if all it means is fast, then I've greatly misunderstood the whole thing.

I thought it was about challenging myself, seeing how I could make my body go, go, go! when it really wanted to stop, stop, stop! I thought it was about the feeling of accomplishment, and the fun.

So, as I said, my friends are all faster than me....

• Ricky V, finished in 12:53.
• Miquel, "Sharkbait" finished just a hair over 13 hours.
• Mark, "Bones" finished about 13 minutes later.
• Mike, "Wiz" finished in a little over 14 hours.
• Mary Sunshine finished some time before Baboo.
• Dying Water Buffalo finished in 16:17.
  
  ~~~~
  
• Sweet Baboo finished in 15:35. And then he waited...and waited...and waited.

sigh.
and,
yes,
I
was
last.

My time was 17:19.

Pirate had the best thing to say about this:

"You know what they call the last person to cross the finish the line in an Ironman triathlon?"

"They call that person an Ironman."

(BTW, I HATE this picture. I thought my arms were higher up in the air than that. and I should have kept my hat on.
Is that why some of you guys shave your head? So you look good for the photos? It is, isn't it? )

So if you've ever DFL'd, repeat this to yourself:

YOU COVERED, OR WILL COVER, THE SAME DISTANCE AS THE FASTER ATHLETES. That doesn't make you lesser. It may even make you greater.

Besides, who's to say I might not have moved a little faster if the cutoff had been midnight? I've finished every single race I've ever started that had a cutoff, even when I wasn't sure that I would start or not.

So, if you are still wondering if you "should" try to do that race or not, the answer is, well, you should.

Refuse to give up. Refuse to listen to the person or persons who fill your head with worry, doubt, or fear, no matter how much you love them and respect them, unless they have an MD. This is your race, not theirs.

This advice is especially important if the fear-monger in your head is YOU.

It won't be that I won or lost a few races that stays with me. It will be that I tried even though I was utterly terrified. (Oh, yes I was! I avoided buying a very pretty Louisville Ironman Bike jersey the day before the race because I still wasn't sure if I'd finish it or not.)

I like a little fun competition now and then, don't get me wrong. But it has to be fun, not all-consuming. As amateur athletes, what else are we doing this for, if not fun?

I mean, why are you doing this, anyway? Is it to be the fastest? I've got news for you. There is always someone faster. And if there isn't now, you'll still be looking over your shoulder in case there is. Or, are you doing this to finish? Then it doesn't matter where your place is. Statistically speaking, those that are considered "experts" in any field in which expertise can be claimed are within the top 2%. Sometimes less. The other 98% will finish after them.

So, let it go, man. Sign up for that race.

Oh, you, yes you, know the one I'm talking about.

Hell, you've been staring at the race website on and off for weeks.

Quit worrying about whether you'll do it "well" and just do it. If you don't meet your goal, well, you'll learn something, and you'll meet it another time.

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