Do you have a death wish?

**Yikes. So I knew Ironman training was going to be time consuming. But I never really realized it would take AS MUCH TIME as it has. I mean, I haven't blogged in over a month. Call me a slacker. I deserve it. But when you do, just remember that I've been the one doing 90 mile rides and 20 mile runs.


Monday mornings at most offices finds co-workers recounting stories of weekend activites. Children's ball games, yardwork, restaurant experiences, crazy nights out. When I tell my co-workers about my weekend of 90s and 20s, they look at me bewildered. One woman always asks, "Do you have a death wish?!"

And, ya. I do. I want to kill all self doubt. I want to destroy every ounce of poor self esteem. I want to deafen the voices in my head telling me I can't do this. And right now, more than anything, I want to stomp muddy footprints on the images of those who've been unsupportive of me in the past. One in particular. I'm sure you've heard me mention him. Shithead.

For the worst 8 months of my life, this "man" (which I use in the loosest sense of the term) made me feel horrible about myself. There was nothing I could do. No one I could be. All I was happened to revolve around him, how he perceived me, and my perception of how he perceived me. I was ugly, fat, stupid, incapbable, unloved and every other descriptor that made me feel worthless.

Not only was he convinced that I was nothing, but he had me convinced I was nothing. In the past three years, I've done a good, scratch that, GREAT job of killing that image of myself. Now, training for Ironman is one more way to prove to myself first and foremost, those around me secondly, that I can do anything, be anything, feel anything that I put my mind to.

I knew this would be a journey. A challenge. A fight. More steps would be taken begrudginly, more taken with pride, more out of responsibility than I'd ever planned on. I have 50 more days to prepare to step up to the starting line, wading and floating in Lake Mendota in Madison, Wisconsin, nerves at full tilt waiting for the gun to go off telling me there really is no turning back now.

Stroke after stroke, step after step for 140.6 miles. Each step squashing all the fears, the doubt, the voices telling me I'm nothing. And from each step, from the ashes I've created from my blood, sweat and tears, will rise a new identity, a new perception, a new me. An Ironman. A badge to carry to prove that Yes, I do have a death wish.