That’s all that lies between Ironman Canada and myself. Six days. I am in such a great space right now, even during this final taper. Not a lot of nerves (some, but not debilitating) not a lot of anxiety or fear. It’s surprising and a little unnerving. Maybe, I should be freaking out?
I am trying to build my small nests of piles. We are, after all leaving in 2 days. I might want to start to pack. I have my checklist in hand, but am sitting here looking at it, feeling a bit like I am turning in circles. I have to sit and quiet my mind. Stop doing laundry, stop answering the phone, and texts and emails, and settle into my task. Visualize my day. What will it look like? Morning bag, T1 bag, Bike Special Needs, T2, Run Special Needs, finishing clothes for after race.
I have narrowed down what I will wear that day, the goggles (after swimming in several pair the past couple of weeks) the visor, the long sleeved shirt in case the run gets chilly, the shorts, the tank, sunglasses etc. I am just bringing what I know, and a few extra things in case the weather changes. I just learned only last night, that what you leave in your Special Needs bags, is not returned to you. So that has me rethinking a few things. I hope I don’t forget anything. But at least feel great about what I have decided to race in.
This is also what I know and feel great about:
I am excited.
I am ready.
My number is 2505
I have the most kick-ass support of family and friends.
My husband ROCKS as far as being by my side when I need him OR not….and he knows the difference without me having to say one way or the other.
I am uninjured.
I am blessed to train where I do.
I am glad and privileged to be racing in a new venue that I haven’t raced at before.
I have God by my side to get me through anything.
I have had to let go of some negativity and negative people surrounding me, and as sad as it is, it was for the best and I’m better for it.
My bike is tuned up, cleaned and ready to be a BEAST on those passes.
My nutrition is right on target, and has been working perfectly.
I have no fear.
The weather may change, but I have no control over it.
I love and adore all of my “cheering fans” from all over the USA (relatives, friends and RMM’s)
I am ready for a tough day. (It is an Ironman after all)
I am capable of a heck of a lot more than I sometimes give myself credit.
My swim will be slow, but I know I will muster through it, and be happy when I step back onto the beach.
The run will hurt at times, but will feel like I am walking on a cloud at the finish line.
I have the determination that it takes.
I will be sad when it’s over.
I love Penticton, BC, Canada
I am excited to drink wine with friends on Monday.
I love “Finisher’s” gear.
I need to start packing and stop blogging.
I cannot wait until my next Ironman, regardless of the day I have on Sunday.
I have a fabulous coach.
I need to drink one Infinit nutrition bottle every hour, until Yellow Lake, then stop.
I need 2oz of Napalm every 45 minutes of the run.
I will, without a doubt, cry out there.
Nothing will taste better than the pizza at the finish line…even though I am not a pizza eater, or big pizza fan.
I cannot wait to feel the weight of my medal around my neck.
Getting up EARLY Monday morning for Finisher gear will feel like I am being tortured.
I WILL need my compression sleeves on the run.
The body is amazing.
Even though standing at the waters edge for the start, I will feel like puking, I won’t, and that those nerves will calm down as I find my rhythm in that lake.
I will at some point in the day, feel like quitting.
I will appreciate every single one of the volunteers that day.
I will be thankful for gross porta-pottys.
I will need to dig deep.
I’m going to want to party it up after I finish.
I’m still spinning in circles instead of packing.
I have a friend racing IMKY the same day, and I hope she rocks it like I know she can.
I am confident in my hill climbing abilities.
I am glad I rode 80 miles of the course a few weeks ago.
My friends racing that day are animals, and we are going to have the time of our lives.
I have one week.