It took me 20 minutes and several moments of technical difficulties but I managed to get myself registered for Ironman Arizona 2011. I had rearranged my schedule that day at work so I could be sitting at my computer, ready to log in at precisely 2 PM EST to sign my life away and dedicate the next year to swim/bike/run. As I filled out the entry form my palms were sweating and my fingers were shaking. Was I really going to sign up for this insane event? You bet I was. I was one of the "lucky" ones to get in. Rumor has it the race sold out in 35 minutes (or so I read).
The form asked the typical questions - birth date, address, credit card info, health insurance info. Uh, what? Are they assuming I will need medical attention at some point that day? They have some wise people at the World Triathlon Corporation. I intend on having at least 1 IV that night. Next question on the form, "What are your athletic accomplishments?" Well I am certainly no pro athlete. I doubt they want to hear about how I rocked the 50 yard butterfly when I was 10 years old. I think they need to get back to me next year when I can tell them that I am an Ironman.
What brought me to the day when I would rearrange my work schedule, shell out $550+, and travel across the country just so I can torture myself for 17 hours straight (and, yes, I intend to use all 17 hours)? To be honest, I'm not really sure. Endurance events are not a family pastime. I was a sprinter on my high school and college swim teams. I even have one of those bumper stickers that says, "When the going gets tough the sprinters get out." I use to read that sticker and think, "You know, it is so true." I use to be grateful for the practices where sprinters were done 20 minutes before everyone else because we had completed our yardage in practice. It is strange, but now I look back and wonder what would have happened if I had stayed those 20 extra minutes, done those few extra laps, or (heaven forbid) swim a distance workout. Ironman might be my big metaphor for life. I don't want to quit when the going gets tough. I want to tough it out, endure the emotional rollercoaster, and hopefully, in the end, come out a stronger and more determined person who knows she is able to stare a challenge in the face and not let it beat her. So this year when the going gets tough, which there is no doubt in my mind that it will, I intend to stick it out until the bitter end. Just have medical personnel on stand-by, just in case.
