Bigger Challenges Lie Ahead

You gotta love your coach when she calls you at 8 a.m. the morning after she does an Ironman, to tell you that you too need to sign up for it next year. AND, you have 3 hours to decide. AND, you'll be at work during that deciding time. God, I love her. I love that she can even wake up at 8 a.m. after an Ironman, no need to sleep late! I love that she has faith in me that this overweight woman can accomplish that kind of a feat. I think what I love most is that she doesn't take this lightly -- she knows how much hard work is involved, she knows me -- and she still thinks I'm ready for the challenge.

But wait, you say. You've had years to ponder doing an Ironman. You've had plenty of time to think about this. You've even admitted that it is a dream of yours. Yea, and I decided I wasn't ready yet.
Swimming 2.4 Miles, biking 112 miles, and running 26.2 just for fun and within a 17 hour time limit, is a dream of mine. But I figured It would be years away. I figured first I had to loose 25 pounds or so I could run faster and longer. I figured I would certainly help if Mr. Preschool didn't have class on Saturday mornings for his PhD. I figured at least my 3-year-old would have to be in school part time (we had to pull him out of preschool -- loooong story). I figured, no way in hell it would be this year.
But, when your coach calls you, and tells you that you can. ...and you secretly know you want to ...and she has that much faith in you, well all sanity and reason goes out the window.

Registration was pushed back to 1 p.m. local time. I had a few more hours to think about it. I loved the prospect of getting to train with TRIgirls that were going for it next year. And, I decided, what the hell, It's a dream of mine, I'll go for it.

I signed on the the Ironman Florida registration website, which mentioned that there would be VERY FEW spots available. I felt like a teenager on Ticketmaster trying to get tickets to the next big show. At 12:56 p.m. I sat down at my work computer, making sure there were no customers around to be helped. If anyone walked in that door, I would abandon entering the race at all. I was at work afterall! I clicked "register." The race was not open yet. At 12:57 p.m. I clicked it again and gasped an audible gasp as I got to the registration screen. Still no customers in need of help coming in. I proceeded to enter my USAT number, my address, my medical info, and my credit card number. I hit send, but had to go back a screen because in my nervousness, I'd forgotten the (804) on my phone number. Then started freaking.
What am I doing?
You see, for the past 7 weeks I've been unsuccessfully fighting an infection. Remember back in September when my nurse practitioner told me not to even race Sandman? That's the same one. I'm now on my 4th round of antibiotics. Not working out really messes with your head. I've been struggling. Then, last week, I through out my back trying to carry a kicking a screaming Redfish up the stairs to bed. OUCH! Damn. And get this, I feel like such a hypochondriac that I haven't really told anyone how much pain I'm in.
What am I doing, registering for Ironman Florida when I couldn't even walk 10 steps without pain, and I haven't worked out since September? What am I thinking?
But, I know it is a leap of faith, and after calling 2 TRIgirls, I'm convinced. I hit send! But in my hesitation, I lose my opportunity. The slots are all gone.

So, at least that has gotten me here. I WILL register for IMFL in 2009. And by then, maybe Mr. Preschool won't have class on Saturday and Redfish will be in school. And I will be well. And I will finally follow my dream. And it is oh so nice to know that there is someone besides myself who thinks I can do this.
I can do this.