And you may ask yourself, my God what have I done!
So, in a moment of questionable judgment—or maybe sheer desperation—I went ahead and signed up for Ironman Wisconsin.
I’m… fat, out of shape, and can barely run 2 miles without getting injured.
Here’s the thing, though—I need this. I’ve been feeling like life’s been running me instead of the other way around. Stress, self-doubt, struggling with empty nest and adult-child worries, watching the years fly by, while I keep telling myself “tomorrow” is when I’ll get it together. Signing up for another Ironman might be the worst idea I’ve ever had—or maybe it’s precisely what I need to shake myself awake.
I’m not doing this because I think I can win my age group (although it will be the 60-64 now) or even set a PR. I’m doing it because I need to remind myself that I can do hard things. That I can put one foot in front of the other—even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy, even if I question every life choice somewhere around mile 85 of the bike or every single mile of the run.
Will I regret this? Almost definitely at some point. But right now, I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a while: hope. Hope that in training, I’ll not only get stronger physically but claw back some confidence. Hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll cross that finish line and remember that I actually do know what the heck I’m doing in this life.
So yeah—Ironman Wisconsin. Pray for me. Or better yet, join me.