Another morning of tentatively getting out of bed and trying not to fall. My left leg; knee, hamstring, calf just want to buckle in pain with me. It takes some stretching to get moving to the bathroom. This has been going on for a while in silence. It was my plan not to give air to the pain, and perhaps it would eventually go away. A foolish notion, I know. But, the idea of an ironman is a foolish notion to begin with, and what is one more foolish notion? This was not meant for me and I can accept that. I think I have been preparing for that acceptance for several weeks now: with every painful planting of my foot.
Plus, the last minute bike course situation has only ushered that acceptance along; made it easier. Speaking only for myself, there is something lost, when this close to race day, there is only silence as to what the bike course will be or whether there will be an event at all. There has always been something special about ironman, an aura to it, a wrongly given status of semi-holy. For me, ironman came crashing to earth: feet of clay like everything else except God Himself. I put ironman in the clouds; on a pedestal. Now it is resting on the same turf we all walk upon; where I should have placed it all along.
But, even without that revelation, I cannot finish that ironman without seriously, perhaps permanently, injuring myself. That is a fact. So I have to face down both the revelation of ironman reality and the reality of my own physical limitations. This ironman is over for me, regardless, but I don't regret a thing. I poured the training on after medications I was taking almost got my ironman back around Christmas. There is a peace knowing I gave it my best and gave this one to God, but He starting closing doors. That's OK. "Nevertheless, not my will by Thine be done." Now to getting healed and enjoying the prospect of the next adventure with myself that God might put me into.
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