How Old Would You Be If You Let Go

A story goes that a young boy asked his grandma how old she was. She answered, "39 and holding." He thought for a moment and said, "Well then, how old would you be if you let go?"

How old would I be if I let go: if I took to heart every time someone said, "pretty good for someone your age," or if I believe the "take it easy" scripts society seems to have written for folks my age, or if I exercise all the horrendous caution it seems I am supposed to have about doing things. I got this much figured out: you only die once. So, why die to day after day beforehand, letting go, trying to put off that one day that is going to happen anyway?

Yeah, I am 39 and holding; ain't letting go: that's my story and I am sticking to it.

Pushing My Rock

It is fading in the mist. Various considerations are being stacked against my goal event. Eight weeks into training and fruit seems to be drying the vine, unpicked. This has happened before while training for other events with consequent episodes of despondency. This time, there is very little. Seems as if I went into this on the chance - slight chance - that it might work out. I wasn't picked to win this one anyway.

So now, there is nothing left to do but go get lots of unhealthy snacks and inebriating beverages, crank back the recliner, limber up the remote, and slump into couch potatoeism (a new word??)

Doesn't even sound like fun. Besides, I don't even have television here. No, this training is too much fun in its own right, for its own sake to quit now. I have always felt like I have been called to push against this rock, not necessarily to move it. So, I will keep pushing against the rock God gave me, and the pushing will keep me strong; ready for the event He has in store.

The Best I Want To

"Are they really doing the best that they can?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"Or, are they doing the best that they want to?"

Sometimes the answer is pretty obvious in observing others, but turned inward, the question is confrontational, demanding that I either ignore it, or explore the possible self-revelation. Am I really training the "best" that I can, or the best that I want to? When it gets to the event and "dig-down" time will I have experience in going past "want to" to get me to the" best I can?"

And in life, in dealing with, in caring for others, how am I doing? Am I just getting to "want to" in my relationships, and not doing the hard work of relationship, to get to my "best."

Time to go get my training in and meet that decision on the road, and on the road of life:
"Am I really doing the best I can or only the best I want to?"

The Sum of My Days

Hard to believe ! What a journey this has been, indeed ! Some time ago I embarked on a project to write a piece on all the things, or adventures, I have had in my life. In doing so, I find that the training for triathlons is just the latest in journeys. It is not an original. The big question is: how did I survive all that?

Another question is: why am I writing all this down into a collection? Who knows for sure? But I so enjoy reliving all those miles of this journey called life. And, sometime right down the road, when I have nothing left but time to reflect, I can still read these stories and get a smile. Even now there is a certain satisfaction reading this stuff, and seeing, and knowing, that the sum of my days, my years, is not as great as the sum of my life.

Preparing for the Fatigue Storm

Am I intoxicated? I think so - (TIS) Training Intoxication Syndrome. Somewhere in all this, my training hit a stride, volume ramped up, and I seem to be carried along by it. The energy level is good. Mental acuity is fine...well, as good as it can be - has ever been. This won't last though. Today I woke at 2:20 AM and could not go back to sleep - ready for daylight and the training day. This mental thing will carry me only so far before the crash. Then it will be hangover time. I have been in the eye of a storm, and this feels something like it. Just a few more days, then transition - a little backing off, taking in the lawn chairs, boarding the windows, and preparing for the fatigue storm.

I Am Dad

What is my son going to think when I get older, and my athletic performance drops dramatically? Right now, I believe he sees me athletically, as someone he has to work to keep up with on the bike. His vision of me is of one who is capable: I am dad. He hasn't got there in his thinking yet, that I am aging up.

I can just see the future. We are on a bike ride and taking a big hill. He looks back when I can't keep up and says, "What's wrong, dad?"

"I don't know. Maybe being 96 has something to do with it, but I am not sure."
Maybe I haven't got there yet in this aging up business either?

I Can!

Just done ! After doing indoor bike workouts for the last several days (cold weather) I just don't have much left in my legs. This feel is reminiscent of my finish at the olympic distance triathlon (Wool Capital Triathlon) in San Angelo, Texas in August. The 6.2 mile run of this event is mostly over the aptly termed, Dirt Road From Hell. The picture is how I looked after finishing. That is sort of how I feel, today.

So, am I ready for all this? Am I sure? Perhaps, I am just too old and have too many miles on the odometer to keep this training up, and do another half ironman distance event?

Perhaps.

But, perhaps, this is simply an acquired lethargy from too many easy days inside? Perhaps, this is the mental/personal game being played out here that I must win, or hang up my spandex for good. Perhaps, there is still fire buried in the ashes-fire waiting for the winds of commitment and determination to blow the coals to flame? I can! That is what I chose to believe and what I believe about myself. There is no other good option.