I’m dead.

Actually, I’m stupid first, then dead, I think. Yes, that’s it – currently stupid, soon to be dead. I’m 1.5 weeks away from attempting my first half Iron at Wildflower and I’m a scant 2 months under trained. Whoops.

Blame the calendar, work, any of the classics – but they’re likely not to stick. Just a good old case of bad prioritization. Aaagain.

This is par for the course though. I’ve got a list of events I’ve under trained for but survived - Olympic tris, a marathon, off-the-couch halfs. Distances you can power through with a little concoction of positive mental attitude and denial. But this…I’m wondering. I’m starting to think I like not knowing if I’m going to make it. Being that I’m not shooting for any world record time; what’s the fun in knowing you’re going to finish without falling down?!

Mind games, body games – I seem to be into both. And where they meet, you have sport. If you hear from me on the other side of April 30^th, I made it. I might be writing from a hospital bed, but I’ll have made it.