quest

In avoiding all pain and seeking comfort at all costs, we may be left without intimacy or compassion.
In rejecting risk, we often cheat ourselves of the quest.
In denying our suffering, we may never know our strength or our greatness

Alii Drive. This is my new quest. Someday I want to run down this street and cross the finish line that will round out my athletic accomplishments.

Ironman is a cold unfeeling race. It doesn't care how hard you train. It turns its nose at the sacrifices you make. It laughs in your face when you want to sleep in until sunrise. I already know this, and I don't even know what it is to be an Ironman. But I will. In 6 and a half months I will. I have no doubt about this. This race chews people up, spits them and and makes them come back for more. In a bizarre way, I almost fear the emotional aspect more than I do the physical. Just thinking about this huge undertaking makes it hard to sleep at night.

Right now I'm sitting with another injury of some sort. The x-rays came back fine. But my doctor doesn't want any weight bearing on my left foot. Crutches, even. How dare she? How can I gimp around on crutches at work and then ditch them after to hit the gym. I've accepted that I can't run. That's a given. But I refuse to give up my workouts. Swimming bears no weight. I can still weight train. Tomorrow I might even give the stationary bike another shot. If I can keep my cardio and strength up, I should be able to push myself for 26.2 miles in February.