Bear courtesy of Calondra Ludlow
There’s got to be more than life other than this. There’s got to be more than the DC area, than the George Washington Parkway, than the horse country of Montgomery Country. I’m not asking for much, just something that makes me absolutely sure that the world is, indeed, a beautiful place filled with awe inspiring sights. I haven’t felt that way since Positano last summer, and before that since Vail in the summertime 4 years before that.
I’m not looking for that. You can’t look for stuff like that and expect to find it. Positano was… holy shit, you can’t describe a place like that and you can’t expect a place like that.
But I digress. Why am I training for an Ironman? Why am I putting my body through the amount of training I’m putting myself through, etc.
I suppose to get to the end you have to start at the beginning. I am doing this, in the first place, because it is something I have wanted to do since I was a kid. I remember reading in SI Kids about the Ironman. Or maybe it was the Ironkid. I have no recollection. But I remember vaguely the idea.
But why now? I guess the situation just presented itself. For one, the job switch reduced my daily workload, but more than that, it made it so that I didn’t have to do anything to do on the weekends. When I say to do, I mean work to do. For two, the end of a 2, almost 3, year relationship.
I guess that’s more of the how I can do this, or at least the how I can train for this (not that I couldn’t do this in a relationship, but I couldn’t do it and try to hold together what obviouly, looking back, was a relationship on the decline). The real reason? The end of a 2, almost 3, year relationship. She said a lot of things, and a lot of them true. One of those things was that I never follow through on anything. To be fair to her, she was right. I guess in the beginning, this was something that I thought might get her back. And I had all these delusions of grandeur, but I think I knew that would never happen. And I came to grips with it, and I got past that. I think. But int hat tim, it’s become entirely about me. It’s about pushing my body far enough that maybe I can learn something about myself. And maybe I can find whatever it is that I found at Positano and Vail. It’s about making sure that for once in my life, I accomplish something I set out to do. And yeah, maybe I’m doing it to meet another woman. But that hasn’t worked out so well either (perhaps because I train as a loner). But I’m feeling better about myself, better about who I am and who I will be… I guess that’s what matters.
Am I worried that I won’t finish? No. I’m not worried about anything anymore. I know my body can do this. I know my mind can do this. In 86 days or so, I’ll have the long-lasting mark, the story to tell my children and grand-children… Am I looking forward to it? Oh hell yes.
I’m an open book. This is page 973.