It is now officially taper time. Sitting here drinking an Avalanche Ale, brewed in Breckenridge, Colorado and sold in our fancy pants grocery store, I am reminded of summer, which has ebbed away.
I am also reminded that two weeks from this very moment, I hope to be two or so hours' run away from the finish line at Ironman Wisconsin.
Tell me that eight years ago before I ran (read jogged, hobbled and walked) my first road race, and I would never have believed it could be true.
Tell me that three years ago when triathlon was only a pipe dream (in large part because I couldn't swim more thant 25 meters), and I would never have believed it could be true.
After finishing my first 70.3 race last year, I started to wonder . . . maybe . . .
But then, less than one year ago, when I was witnessing the swim start where I knew that
Trisaratops and
Iron Wil were in the midst of the washing machine, and I would have told you that it would never happen.
But then . . . it started to change. As I saw people, real people like me, some faster and stronger and bigger, but some smaller, and slower, and less athletic, emerging from the water and finishing. . . I started to wonder . . . is it possible.
But why even wonder such a thing? Why, when neither your wife nor your child love you any less 30 pounds heavier and completely sedentary?
Why, when your 50+ hour per week job does nothing to encourage 15 to 20 hours of training? Why, when your parents continually ask you when you're going to quit doing all that "crazy stuff," and make a point of telling you every time some endurance athlete dies of a heart attack or drowns?
Why dream dreams and see visions? And why this one?
Do I even know?
Becuase I thought I might win a cool bike from BMC?
Because I was there in Madison for sign up, and all the cool kids were doing it?
Because some of the best and most interesting people I've ever made will be there participating and spectating.
Because I admire these people and want to be like them.
Because to me, training really is like recess, and I love to play.
Because at age 40, play is not a luxury, it is a lifesaver.
It is a reason to be. Because it is hard, and in it's difficulty I've found an ease in the rest of life that cannot be explained or duplicated.
Because I'm not ready to stop, I'm not ready to decay, I'm not satisfied with being a middle-aged, suburban statistic.
Because I hate average.
Because the friends who have
coached and encouraged me,
run with me and
swum with me are watching.
Because you are watching.
Because I am alive, and I know those who are not.
Because I want every breath to count
Because thanksgiving in breathing is a hymn, a prayer, an act of worship.
Because wasting your health and your life on average is profane; Because the wasted time of television and junk food I wore around my middle was blasphemy.
Because I may not know until I struggle through it.
Because I may never know.
Why?
I am also reminded that two weeks from this very moment, I hope to be two or so hours' run away from the finish line at Ironman Wisconsin.
Tell me that eight years ago before I ran (read jogged, hobbled and walked) my first road race, and I would never have believed it could be true.
Tell me that three years ago when triathlon was only a pipe dream (in large part because I couldn't swim more thant 25 meters), and I would never have believed it could be true.
After finishing my first 70.3 race last year, I started to wonder . . . maybe . . .
But then, less than one year ago, when I was witnessing the swim start where I knew that Trisaratops and Iron Wil were in the midst of the washing machine, and I would have told you that it would never happen.
But then . . . it started to change. As I saw people, real people like me, some faster and stronger and bigger, but some smaller, and slower, and less athletic, emerging from the water and finishing. . . I started to wonder . . . is it possible.
But why even wonder such a thing? Why, when neither your wife nor your child love you any less 30 pounds heavier and completely sedentary?
Why, when your 50+ hour per week job does nothing to encourage 15 to 20 hours of training? Why, when your parents continually ask you when you're going to quit doing all that "crazy stuff," and make a point of telling you every time some endurance athlete dies of a heart attack or drowns?
Why dream dreams and see visions? And why this one?
Do I even know?
Becuase I thought I might win a cool bike from BMC?
Because I was there in Madison for sign up, and all the cool kids were doing it?
Because some of the best and most interesting people I've ever made will be there participating and spectating.
Because I admire these people and want to be like them.
Because to me, training really is like recess, and I love to play.
Because at age 40, play is not a luxury, it is a lifesaver. It is a reason to be.
Because it is hard, and in it's difficulty I've found an ease in the rest of life that cannot be explained or duplicated.
Because I'm not ready to stop, I'm not ready to decay, I'm not satisfied with being a middle-aged, suburban statistic.
Because I hate average.
Because the friends who have coached and encouraged me, run with me and swum with me are watching.
Because you are watching.
Because I am alive, and I know those who are not.
Because I want every breath to count
Because thanksgiving in breathing is a hymn, a prayer, an act of worship.
Because wasting your health and your life on average is profane; Because the wasted time of television and junk food I wore around my middle was blasphemy.
Because I may not know until I struggle through it.
Because I may never know.
Why?