What had happened was...

So I was really committed to this race (70.3 Galveston…). Like for real. I’ve been hitting all of my workouts. 3+ hours on the trainer. 8 miles in the parking lot of the natatorium between Lia’s water polo games. Swimming 2000 meters in 33-degree weather. I’ve been a beast (pats self on the back).

Lia’s big water polo tournament was scheduled for April 2-3 in Pearland, the same weekend as my race (for those not familiar with Houston, Pearland is literally two towns over from League City). The plan was to be at the nat all day Saturday cheering her on. Sunday was race day and I recruited friends and family to cheer her on so I could go chase finish lines all over Galveston Island. I was hoping to be finished with the race by the finals and be back in Pearland to watch her compete. Then…

The tournament got moved to San Antonio. The minute I saw that, my mind was made up. There’s no way I’m going to be in Galveston while my baby is in San Antonio playing her heart out at the tournament. It’s not in my DNA. I’m not wired this way. I think back to 1995. My dad had triple bypass surgery just a few days after I turned 16. In fact, the first place I drove myself was to the hospital to see him in the ICU. I had a softball tournament a few days later and I will never forget my dad walking down the sidewalk to watch me play, wearing compression socks and carrying his teddy bear he was supposed to hold when he coughed. If triple bypass surgery didn’t keep my parents from being there for me, how on earth can I let a race keep me from being there for my baby?

Naturally, I hatched a plan. I’ll be competing against a field of one tomorrow. By myself, I will tackle 70.3 miles. Alone. No SAG. No aid stations. No cute kids with signs. No cowbells. No finish lines. I NEED to close this chapter of my story and move on with my life. I need to call this done and I don’t think that calling it quits this close to race day is going to do it for me. So HIMLC will take place tomorrow. 1931 meters at The Fitness Center, 56 miles either on my trainer or on the Texas City Dike, and 13.1 miles around my neighborhood.

Listen. This is for me, not you. If you don’t think it counts because my bike is on a trainer or my swim is in a pool or my transitions require car rides, hear me when I say, “I don’t care.” I’m not claiming a medal. There will be no roll-down slots awarded to the World Championship. On April 4, Ironman will have me listed among the DNSs and that’s ok. This is for me to be at peace with myself and my decision to put my child and her endeavors above my own. My family has tirelessly supported me over the last 10 years while I’ve raced all over Texas. I recognize (a half beat too late) that my kids have reached the age in their individual pursuits where I’m going to need to put my own things on the shelf and spend my time supporting them all over Texas (and beyond). This is me, carefully packing away my things and choosing to be present with my kids.

One last thought – I know tomorrow is going to be grueling, far more difficult than racing fully supported. I’m mentally prepared for that and who knows if I’m physically prepared. That’s what we’re going to find out tomorrow. My whole point in writing this down today is to remember how I felt in “the before.” Stay tuned for my thoughts and how I faced down my demons (or not) tomorrow on the HIMLC course. Let’s get down to brass tacks.

Post Script - I have told virtually no one about this beyond immediate family and those who are helping out on race day. If you're not on the VERY short list of people I told, it bears repeating - this is for me, not you. I don't want to be cajoled. I don't want to be talked out of it. I don't want to be berated for making a "weird" decision or told that you wouldn't do it that way. I don't want to hear all the reasons why I shouldn't do this and I certainly don't want to hear that it "doesn't count." I really don't care. Once more - this is for me, not you. If that sounds harsh, I'm sorry. Very close friends of mine reacted poorly when I deferred last year and I have been junked up about it ever since. I'm keeping this one close to my chest until I cross my own invisible finish line. Here's to hoping my body and my mind hold up tomorrow and carry me to the end of this chapter.