If someone would be so kind, could they please batter my kneecaps with a baseball bat? A few hearty Babe Ruth-inspired thwacks oughta do it. You see, it’s not that I don’t want to do the Half-Ironman in two(ish) weeks – I do – but as July 8th draws closer, it’s hard not to get nervous and a little incapacitation would be mighty convenient.
What if during the swim I get caught up in the tangle of limbs and don’t make the time cut? What if the other cyclists laugh at my ol’ trusty? What if I collapse in some desolate gutter and am discovered three days later half gnawed by Rhode Island dingos?
My dad keeps telling me these things won’t happen (the geographically displaced dingos being particularly unlikely), and that I should be proud of myself regardless of what happens.
According to the internet, Babe Ruth himself once said: “Don’t let the fear of striking out hold you back.”
While I definitely could have trained more/better (a series of out-of-town science conferences and troubling pains in my right foot a few months back put a damper in things for awhile) I’ve done each of the individual distances at least once and I don’t want to make excuses for myself.
In fact, barring flat tires or savage dogs, there’s no reason for me to think I can’t do it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be happy once it’s done. (I’m sure everyone else will be relieved as well – if only so I stop whimpering about this thing that I voluntarily signed up for.)
Anyway, that’s whats on my mind this Wednesday. If I remember, I’ll bring a video camera to the race and do a little before-and-after interview with my parents and me so you can all laugh as I lose my shit.