Two weeks ago on a four hour bike ride I changed my mind four times about going or not going. Literally. I doubt whether I’ve done enough running to prepare my foot. I doubt whether I have enough confidence to know that. I don’t want to have surprises in the last couple hours due to not having trained on my feet enough.
I’ve heard myself tell my son over golf tournaments this summer that there are 18 holes every round. You have to play every one of them every time. So then if I don’t go am I skipping out on the last few holes?
One tournament he was hurting and he then wanted to hit a last shot out of a shrub. As soon as he connected we both knew it was over, but he had to make the call. A month from school golf, I wanted him to call it a day. He finally did. And if I’m in the middle of IM AZ and think I’ll ruin the next 40 years of physical activity I hope I’ll know the time to stop. Getting there is the win. I’ve been proud of Dustin for entering and wanting to compete, for putting in the practice time. But I’ve had joy when he won and he had the fun for what he earned and deserved. I may get the joy of finishing all three legs but I may have to settle for the joy of effort I’ve had during training.
No comments:
Post a Comment