Now I’ve gone and done it.

I spoke it and debit carded it into existence. I sort of willed it to happen. supercrapyfragilististicpukepialidocious.

After weeks, maybe months of talking about triathlon (and learning to spell it correctly AND learning to quit saying tri-ath-a-lon with an extra syllable that doesn’t exist) I registered.  This should help me get ready for Everest in October, right? Training for a triathlon, only 3 syllables, should boost my stamina for the trek, shouldn’t it?

Side note: we bought the tickets to Nepal yesterday.  WOOOOOT!

Of course I didn’t register for a sprint triathlon, which would have been a manageable length of a 750 meter swim, 12 mile bike and 5k run, noooooo, of course not.  People new to triathlon, smart and grownup people, they typically start with small and manageable.  They start with a sprint or with the more challenging Olympic distance.  Not me.  I did this other not-at-all-similar thing and signed up for an Ironman 70.3, which is named for the distance that will need to be covered that day, in less than 8 hours and 30 minutes or I will be disqualified.  DNF. Did not finish.  Even if you are 2 minutes from the finish.  D. N. F.

Run.  Crap. RUN.  12 something miles.  You see, I’m not even sure about the decimal point number after the 12. Oh crap. I just looked it up. It’s 13.1.   Surely this means I am unsuitable for this quest, if I don’t even know how long the run is, can I be trusted to do this?

Nevertheless, I persisted and put in my card number. Waffling between terror and elation the entire time.  Luckily, they don’t have a box where you check to indicate that you aren’t having a midlife crisis or something, because I would have been lying. Then I did a thing that made me feel bad.  I did not choose the engraving my time on my finisher’s medal option. I’d like to tell you it is because I have an engraver (I do) but the truth is I still had the little niggling voice of doubt that reminded me I can’t get my money back for the engraving if I don’t finish.  $20 bucks.  I should have bought the damn engraving, but that little nasty voice inside had to say “what if?”.  It wasn’t saying “what if you amaze yourself” no, it was the dirty whispers of self doubt, the whispers that say you aren’t enough, and you aren’t worth it.  I’m making a solemn vow to engrave that thing, period.  I will do it my self. That voice just needs to STFU for good.  I thought stuffing 55 pounds of fat in its gaping craw would fix it, but the work goes on.

So… Ironman Ohio 70.3.  July 28th, 2019.

1.2 mile open water swim

56 mile bike

13.1 mile run

There are several parts of this that are crazy.  70.3 refers to the number of miles that my butt will need to cover without a car or a plane or someone carrying me.  Seventy-point-frigging-three.  In less than 9 hours.  Oh and that other word.  Run.  Like in gym class.  30 bleeping years ago.  Run.  Swim, gotcha covered.  We are good there.  I could do that today.  Swimming also happens to be the briefest portion of the adventure.  Oh, and people are known to touch you while you swim.  Feet.  They are known to TOUCH YOUR FEET.  Fu*kaduck. It sounds like some sort of zombie movie where they are all reaching for you and trying to grab you before they collectively dine on your carcass.

I have about 8 million questions that will need to be answered between today and July 28th, 2019.

The big one, today, is what do I do with my boobs?

I have more questions.  SERIOUSLY IMPORTANT QUESTIONS. Lots of them.  Like what do poor people do for a bike? What do people who aren’t exactly poor but don’t have $4,000 for a freaking BICYCLE do for a bike?  I’m shocked that this circle on the Venn diagram isn’t EVERYONE, but I’m now aware that some spend $10,000 plus on a bicycle for triathlons. So there’s those people, and the rest of the world in the other circle? I digress.  I’m pretty sure a Huffy will get me laughed off the course, as would my mountain bike that cost far less than a grand, so I need to explore the non-obscene pricing options.

Questions. So many.  Questions questions questions. Do I have to put those weird handlebars on it? If I have use a “cheap” bike that costs say a grand (wave of nausea) can I still put the weird handlebars on it? Or do those fancy ones only fit on fancy bikes?  Oh, and what are those handlebars called anyway? Aero? Ergo? Something like that.  Do they cost $4,000 ?

More Questions. Seriously, what do I do with my boobs?  They are, uhm, substantial.  Is it safe to run at 255? I’m down 55 pounds but that’s a serious pounding on ye old feetuses. Do they make those little onesie diaper padded getups for someone my size?  Yes, I’m told they are called “a kit” but they are seriously a quick dry every so slightly padded technical fabric onesie, and some of these guys wear them like Bob Guccione (google him).

Questions Galore.  Should I get (another) coach? How fast can I take off another 100 pounds? Does this mean I can buy the fancy Fenix watch? In Orange? Did I really sign up for a 70.3 while needing to start Couch to 5K?  An article on the internet said you can do Couch to 70.3 in 12 weeks, I’ve got 30, is it gonna work?

Do I need an indoor bike trainer? Should it be the one with the incline thingie? Did the words  “IMFL” and “full in 2020” really come out of my mouth? What is wrong with me? What should my word of the year be for 2020? Do people really ask themselves that? If you look on Etsy I am quite sure the answer is yes, people do.  Any of these sound right: Pain? Suffering? Tears? Lunacy? Fu*kaduck?

I do have a few answers, because I have Google and Google knows stuff.  Don’t wear a white kit. This is in case you poop yourself or don’t want to show everyone your short and curlies.  Chafing is really real.  Apparently your nipples can bleed, that sounds pretty fun if you are into that sort of thing.

I also know I’m not spending $10,000 on a bike, because that’s a car, not a bike.  I also have it on good authority–an ironperson–that you can walk during the run as there are no “run police” at the event.  A second ironperson confirmed this lack of run police, so I’m going to include it under the “things I know” column.  I can walk if I need to do so.

More questions. How do I fit training in to the week? I currently swim MWF and HIIT/weights T-TH. Some mountain bike on the weekend, occasionally.  I need to run, errrr start running, and I need to ride a bike.  A lot, then a lot more.  Will this make my hgbA1c go down? If I do this will I still be diabetic according to the charts and such?

What if I don’t get better at clipping in and I fall off the bike? Sigh. This I already know.  It is going to happen.  Acceptance is key here.

I am scared, still nauseated and I am psyched. I am a little stuck in disbelief. I am ready to rock this bitch.

It’s not gonna be pretty.

It’s not gonna be easy.

It is going to be worth it.

I’m still nauseated, but that will go away.

Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.  Hehehe.