I was so cold for the first four miles, I thought frostbite might truly be a danger for my fingers. Still, I smiled as I noticed both Wolf and I had a layer of frost forming near our mouths. Were we crazy to be out in such weather?
Ice sheets flowed over the trail, and we slid precariously but managed not to fall. It helped that we were moving even slower than usual; our legs reluctant to warm up to the run.
After five miles, the sun rose, and sunglasses went on. We heard birdsong and watched hawks glide through the chilling blue sky.
After ten miles, I shed a jacket, and we gained speed, running all the way down Floyd street, met only by bundled families driving to church.
After greeting Turner Lake, we turned for home, legs growing stiff, relieved to be on the homestretch.
Finally back to the car, we gratefully hopped in; both happy to have run and content to be going home-- our little adventure complete.
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| Morning Run Kisses |
Changes come when I least expect it. I should know that by now; but as usual, it catches me by surprise every time.
After planning to do the Half Ironman distance in April, buying a wetsuit, and setting out my training schedule for the next four months, I couldn't get myself to pay the entry fee.
"What is going on?," I kept asking myself. Finally, the answer arrived: it is too much too fast. Ironman training-- even Half Ironman training-- requires a tremendous level of dedication to do well. An offhand comment from a full Ironman finisher on Friday evening changed my perspective.
"I kept asking my wife; can I do an Ironman this year? And she said, 'No, not this year.' So I asked her the next year and the next; and then in 2012, she suddenly said 'Yes, this year we can do it.'" He said some other things about the race, but I was struck by his statement.
Clearly, competing in Ironman distances is an incredible commitment-- not just for him, but for the entire family. It is not just his time and training that had to be considered, but the willingness and ability of the entire family to support his goal. I hadn't fully acknowledged that issue.
My family needs more of me right now. I have three part time jobs; but more importantly, I homeschool two children and support the learning of the third child who has chosen traditional school. My husband needs love and support, too. Additionally, I care for four dogs, a lizard, and take care of a home that most obviously lacks a housekeeper. All these facts rest on top of the fact that I do NOT want to simply complete a race. I want to be prepared to do my best race. So what do all of these realizations mean?
To my delight, it does not mean no triathlons; it simply means different races! I found the Tri the Parks website. I can do three shorter races closer to home (no hotel needed!) for the same price as the Half Ironman distance. Hurray! They are in lakes and not unpredictably swift rivers. Hurray! Only one of them will require a wetsuit. Triple Hurray!
Since September, I've had my eyes set on a goal that would satisfy me. Predictably, I chose a goal that was nearly out of reach. But now, I see sprint distance as the perfect choice. It will allow me to prepare with less intensity and time away from my other work/family obligations. These shorter competitions will allow me to practice transitions in a less exhausting atmosphere. I can work the kinks out and begin to understand triathlon competition before investing the money and time into a longer race. It sounds fun and not overwhelming!
I'm excited again! And the words of my yoga teacher come back to me again and again: It really is all about balance and gentle persistence. Not big, overwhelming commitments. Just quiet, consistent progress-- and sometimes that doesn't look too impressive; but it may be the beginning of something great.
