Most of my workouts were done this week and I feel pretty good about that. Health is good and there are no serious injuries right now. That is, if you don't count my bum knee and if you don't consider that I have to be careful not to fall down when I first get out of bed. As I do my nursing home shuffle to the bathroom in the morning, I always think: Ironman? Come on now. Who are you trying to kid? Every day - you might say - starts with serious disbelief.
Yesterday, I got that same doubt when I considered my abilities and the enormity of the task and told my wife that chances are that I won't make this training. She was disappointed to hear me say that. Then we went to church and guess what the sermon was about: not giving up; not having doubts about what God called one out to do. My side is still sore from my wife giving me the elbow every time the preacher made a point that stomped all over my weak and whiney attitude. It was like I had been ambushed and told to look up when doubts and fears seem to control. Yes, look up, praise God, "feed your faith and your doubts will starve to death."
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