Joy in the Journey

On the walls of our stairwell hang all of our Ironman finish photos.  It's our 'wall of fame' so to speak.  As you can imagine, there are quite a few plaques covering those walls between my 7 and my husband's 10 finishes.  I paused the other day on my way up the stairs to stretch my calves and I studied the photos as I often do when I'm stopped there. 

Something stood out to me as I looked at my image from Arizona.  Canada.  Wisconsin.  Coeur d'Alene.  In each of my photos the look on my face reflects pure joy.  I am happy.  The smile that lights up my face is the result of a culmination of 6 months of training (give or take), and 12 hours (give or take) of challenging my body and my mind.  Seeing that smile reminds me of how much I love this sport.  And since making the decision to keep racing Ironman, I've been really happy and much more peaceful.

I've often been told that I make Ironman look easy because I'm smiling the whole way through.  It's definitely not easy.  And I've had my fair share of ups and downs while racing.  But I do smile.  Usually because I'm so thankful for being able to swim, bike and run.  Being able to share this sport with my husband and on occasion, our friends.  During those low moments when I feel more like crying than laughing, I have to remind myself that whatever I'm feeling... it won't last.  The bad times, won't last.  The good times, often don't last.  But at the end of the day, after all the good, bad, and in between moments, when I cross the finish line, I am home.    

I waited anxiously on Monday as the clock ticked ever so slowly toward noon.  In our first few years of racing Ironman, it was not uncommon that if one wanted to sign up for a race, one would actually have to travel to the venue, volunteer and then be able to line up on Monday to enroll in the following year as preference is given to volunteers and anyone from the community.  The most popular races would sell out on site.  Thanks to our *wonderful* economy, most races now have online registration that opens after the onsite registration closes.  So at the stroke of noon, I clicked "register" and proceeded to enter my second Ironman race for 2013, Ironman Coeur d'Alene.

Over the last year or so, I've evolved as an athlete.  Things that used to scare me, don't scare me so much anymore.  (ie: descending)  I will always be 'safety suzie' on my bicycle, but I also have come to terms with the risks and am able to enjoy the freedom and the wind in my face when I go for a ride.  It's no longer a box that I have to check off on my training log.  Like running, I now look forward to the mornings when I get to go for a ride.  I'm happy.  I'm happy training.  I'm happy racing Ironman.

So even though my plate might seem awfully full for next year, I wouldn't have it any other way.  I used to dread the build up to Ironman, and the 6-7 hour bike rides in the heat of summer that never seemed to end.  But now, I would miss the long rides on Sunday with my husband if I didn't do them.  I enjoy taking off from the house together, warming up for the first hour, and then when we start our intervals or hills he circles back to pick me up every once in a while.  We cool down on the ride back home, transition run and then kick back for the remainder of our lazy day.  It's our life.  It's who we are, and certainly who I am.