Fear and Honesty

Have you every had a really wild night? You know, the kind where several pumpkin martinis sound like a deliciously scrumptious idea for a Girls' Night Out...until the morning after, that is? Oh, yes. The house smells of a Thanksgiving pumpkin pie...but it's not because you are baking one.  Just for the record, this scenario has never happened to me...well, not with pumpkin martinis, anyway.  But it sounded like a great analogy.  I sorta feel like hurling right now.

I had a wild night back in January.  It's not as exciting as you would think given that it took place with me cuddled up in my favorite overstuffed armchair wearing my sweats.  And, sadly, it didn't involve pumpkin martinis or overindulgent choices of that sort. Not even a glass of wine.  It was a completely uninfluenced choice.  It involved a decision to do something really challenging, one that I am now feeling absolutely off my rocker for having made.   I hit "Register" without giving it a second thought.   Funny how these things seem like such good ideas from the comfort and safety of an oversized armchair.  Maybe my "trigger finger" was a blessing because it didn't give me any time to think (i.e. back out).  In the past four months, I have stuck with the training, at times really enjoying it.  I have stretched, pushed, equipped, tuned, organized, and contemplated this race to death. I know my limits, I know my pace, and I know what I am capable of, or, more appropriately, what I am not capable of. But somehow, with all of the preparation I have done, it still seems like one pumpkin-martini-choice too many.  The butterflies in my stomach are doing a series of beautiful arabesques worthy of Olympic gold medals, and they are causing me to feel that, at any moment, I could hurl pumpkin martini all over the place.   My fearfully anxious and panicking alter-ego is saying WTH were you thinking? You can't do this! Who do you think you are? 

Yes, Sarah.  Perfect.  Try to defeat yourself right at the end.  Classic.  You need to squash her!  She's killing your self-confidence.  You might sorta need that.

This week is what I have been trying to tell myself for the past few months that I could pull me through...that I would pull me through. This whole process has been a lesson in mental toughness, but this week, it is absolutely essential.  Required.  What the hell am I scared of?  Well, for starters, I have never done anything like this before.  I wake up at night and there are a myriad of what ifs floating around in my head.

What if I get a flat tire?

What if I hit a pothole?

What if my hydraulics malfunction?

What if I freeze when I dive in the water?

What if my goggles leak?

What if the people swimming ahead of me are too slow?

What if the ones behind me are too fast? 

What if the arch in my foot starts hurting again?

What if my shin splints haven't healed?

What if my body fails me?

What if my time totally sucks?

What if?

What if?

What if?

I know the real truth of it, though.  The deepest fears in my heart are already known, my worries are already accounted for.  And my seeds of self-doubt aren't planted by Him; they are sown by me.  If I keep allowing the what ifs to take over, then those seeds with thrive and grow like weeds.  I will sabotage myself.  And why do I want to do that so badly?  Now isn't the best time.

And a few other what ifs occurred to me at 3 AM this morning.  Thankfully.

What if I couldn't even try?
What about all the people that can't?

What if I wanted to do this but couldn't?
What if I never had?

What would I have learned about me then?

Absolutely nothing. 
This has been a good lesson for me. 

Tomorrow, I will brick for the last time until Sunday morning, and then I will give my body a preparatory and well-deserved rest.  No more runs in the rain.  I have a solid pace.  No more climbs and ascents that make my thighs burn.  They know how to do the work.  No more stroke and turn.  I know how to breath.  But, Good Lord, I am scared.

  Cue the mental toughness. You have practiced this.

All things are possible, Sarah.

Just go. And don't look back.