Yeah. That's the one... the picture to the left... you know... my game face. Intimidating isn't it? That's the look that I'll be giving Frenchy as I pass him on the bike.
It's no real secret that I've been a bit... off, the last couple of months. I've run the gamut in terms of what could possibly go wrong. Crazy foot injury, strained/pulled calf that just won't heal, illness, PLUS some serious emotional uproar on the home-front! There have been moments... o.k. entire weeks... where I've questioned if I should even bother heading out to Florida to do this race. Hell, I've even questioned whether or not I should even be doing triathlon period. I mean really... WHY? Yeah... it's been that bad.
Here's the thing... all that stuff... is ME. ALL of it. Right now. Right this moment. The ick and the yum. Ya know? That's the way it is, has always been, and will continue to be. That's life. The ebb AND the flow. If I was to make black and white decisions based off of singular moments... I wouldn't be taking into account the possibilities of what comes next. Does this make any sense whatsoever? To anyone? Aren't the future possibilities worth the temporary discomfort of the present? You could apply that question to anything really... what would you miss out on? So. Here I am. Completely raw. Extremely uncomfortable. Throwing myself out there... and believing that whatever happens... is supposed to... and I'm present for it.
Liz had this to say: "Mentally these next few days, you need to decompress and relax. Resolve things as best you can, but once you board that plane, put those issues in a box, close the lid, and leave it in Oregon. When you show up in Florida, it is ROB TIME. 100% ROB. Rob needs to be mentally connected, plugged in, ready to DIG DEEP for this one. Because it will hurt. Oh yes. It will hurt good." THIS... is exactly why I need a coach. I know these things. Everything that Liz said above... I know. I've told myself the exact same things. Thanks Liz... I needed to hear it from someone else.
Here's the "why" for me: Every single time I push/hurt/dig/fight/thrash/tear, I'm given the opportunity to discover something in myself that's mine and mine alone. I love that. I. LOVE. THAT. That's the why.
So here's the deal. I'm racing on Saturday, the 8th of November at the Ironman World Championship 70.3. My wave hits the water at 7:25 am. I'm bib #688. I will be one of 1,999 other competitors... and I will have NOTHING left when I cross the line.
Sunday? I'll get up and have a big fat freakin cheese burger in bed. You know WHY? Because I can... and I have zero issues with eating in bed... zero... none whatsoever.