The Bloody Toe

This weekend, I had the opportunity to spend time with my family in Saint George, Utah. It’s a great place to visit and possibly better place to live.  It has warm temperatures (ok, it can get brutally hot) and winters aren’t so frostbitey (please add this word to your dictionary if it’s not jiving with your compter’s spellcheck- it’s awesome.)

Coincidentally, the inaugural Ironman half distance was on Saturday.  As soon as I found out, I was immediately jealous.  Jealous of the participant’s new shirts, bragging rights- pain, even.  When you love to race (or at least “complete”) physical endurance races, sometimes, if you’re like me, you feel like you should be in all of them.

Throughout the day, as my family drove around St. George, we noticed people struggling on bikes and running on foot, in the heat of the day.  A few times I told Wendy, I’m glad I’m not doing that, which actually means “I sooooo wish I was doing that”.  She knows this, by now.

At the end of the day, we managed to find a table at Outback Steakhouse, among all of the hardbodied and chiseled athletes.  I kept thinking, “Hey, I do what you do, but you look guys look TOTALLY different”.

Then I realized:

“You will never look like, feel like, have as much success as these people, because you aren’t sacrificing the same things they are.”

BAM.  There it is.  It’s time for action.  Here are some of the thoughts that I’ve had, since that moment in Outback, as I gorged on a 12 oz steak while accepting several refills of Dr. Pepper:

1.  It’s been a while since I’ve been able to lift my knee to my chest (or at least be able to tie my shoes by lifting my leg, rather than crouching down to it.

2.  I can’t sprint (or at least run an 8 MPM) for one mile, anymore.

3.  I drink at LEAST 6 12 oz cans of DP a day (some days, many more.)

4.  My teeth are going to fall out.

5.  I weigh 30 pounds too much.

6.  Races are much more enjoyable when you can actually compete with yourself.  When you are just completing them, it’s not nearly as satisfying as shattering a PR.  (Note to Brett C:  A PR is a “personal record”.

7.  When I sing, I need to breathe more (gasping, maybe?)

8.  I can’t talk while I run, anymore.

9.  At this rate diabetes is probably making its way into my future.

10.  I don’t look like a runner.  I miss looking like a runner.

11.  Nowadays, I subconsciously walk around with my stomach partially pulled in.  That means I think I’m fat.

So it’s time.  It begins…

now.