And, my friends, it was RIGHT about NOW that I started to hit some reality. And it totally messed with my head. And continues to mess with my head. Meet Sara, the Pregant Ironman who has no freakin' clue how to NOT follow a plan. It's quite sick, actually. :) Enjoy my floundering. I'm sure I'm not done yet.
For starters, here's what NOT to say to a room full of 9th graders in the computer lab, after a few students took the little balls out of the computer mouse and threw a few:
"That's enough. The next one I see gets a detention. I don't want to see ANY LITTLE MOUSE BALLS flying anywhere across this room."
*cue 15-year-old laughter*
Over the past few days, I've been getting my monthly Outside Magazine, Athleta Catalogue, and YogaLife. I can't help, as I flip through the pages, wondering what I'll be able to still do, and what I won't. I also can't help being a little scared of this: that there might be some things I can't do again--or at least for a very long time.
Backpack the Grand Canyon? Probably not. Not for a while at least. Thursday night yoga with my friends? Most likely on hold. Email on Friday--"meeting up for Happy Hour at such and such! Meet us there!"--OK! I'm so there! Not even a second thought! Probably gone.
I know that this seems pretty naive, to think I can try to predict what being a mother will be like, and what it will do to my life. I'm sure that next year at this time I'll probably laugh at all the things I thought I could...and could NOT do. I'm sure that some mothers out there are probably already laughing at my feeble attempts to predict the future.
I can't seem to help it...I'm a goal-oriented girl, after all. And the number one goal on my list at the moment?
Ironman Florida, 2008.
And this is starting to worry me a bit. Am I nuts? Can I do it? Probably. Do I want to? I think so.
Is that enough?
Why do I want this?
If I had to try and put it into words, I'd have to say I want it because the amazing emotional rush of the day, the romance and culmination of several years coming together, the feeling of being so alive and feeling so much gratitude and amazement and wonder all at once is hard to turn down. Especially, when you know, as I do, that I could do it even better.
I am certain, without a doubt, that I could take at least an hour, and more likely an hour and half, off my IM time in another go. I know this because I know myself. I know what happened that day, I know my strengths, I know my weaknesses, and I know what I'd do differently.
I knew what would happen in my second marathon, and it happened. And the second marathon was even more amazing than the first, for that reason. All my potential, all my hard work, all my sacrifice and dreams came true and 56 minutes were gone.
I know I could do this at another Ironman. I know it.
So here's the quandry.
When is "just knowing" enough?
And when is "just knowing" being weak, and bowing out?
I am absolutely, 100% incapable of half-assing anything that I do. Anything. Ever.
I don' t know if I want to do another IM for the right reason. I said myself, over and over again this summer, how I didn't know how people did it with kids, with full time jobs, and everything else Ironmen do.
I'm going to have a baby.
A little person, completely dependent upon me and my husband. I can't possibly sit here and say I understand what I'm getting myself into here, because I know that I haven't got a clue.
I'm going to take on a very challenging position at work, teaching 3 classes of AP US History. I'm excited and also a little scared of this challenge--especially seeing as it is coming when I'm expecting my first child. It will be a HUGE change from what I'm used to.
I'm also a friend, a wife, a sister, an aunt, and a daughter.
My biggest fear is, if I took on another Ironman right away, I'd have to half-ass something. And I would hate that. I would hate every minute of that.
Maybe what's better for me right now is to accept that I might need to make a game time decision. That I will do IM #2 someday, when it's right, and not just as soon as possible so I don't "just know" and I "just do." Maybe that' s not the right reason.
I remember getting back to the car with Iron Johnny after a 2 hour hilly Hinckley run in 90 degree heat on a Sunday, after doing a 7 hour brick the day before. I remember laughing, as we high-fived each other (because we ALWAYS did when we finished a workout, no matter what), and saying, "If I ever, EVER complain about marathon training 'taking up too much time,' please smack me. Hard."
Maybe what's best is to "just" do 70.3s for a while, go for the sub-4 marathon, heck, go for the sub-23 minute 5K. Accept that Ironman is Ironman, and I know myself, and I already know that I respect the distance. There is no half-assing Ironman. And, for me, there's no half-assing life. Period.
Maybe it will just fit in when it fits in, and, much like it did the first time, Ironman will find me when I'm ready.