Russian Roulette

Well three of my team mates, two of which are my primary training partners, Jeff and Hardcore, pulled the trigger on the 2009 Ironman CdA. None of them would have considered it had I not been talking about this event due to all the bloggers there last weekend and my overwhelming guilt for not being there myself to sherpa and fellowship.

I of course wanted to bite the bullet for next year. I logged into Active.com and stared at that screen. Each frenzied call asking me to go over the times for enrollment, what is the webpage address, I got in. It only made me happier for my friends and more melancholy for myself. Then realized if I completed the entry form it wouldn't be a hypothetical gun in my mouth but literally biting down on a cold hard barrel and blowing my brains out.

I knew this day was coming, when IM life would finally leave me behind kicking and screaming. I told myself that knowledge is power and in my condition it's not my place to debate the obvious stupidity of doing something like an Ironman that is well beyond the exertional stress my kidneys and liver can handle for the next several years if ever.

To hammer the point home, I have a test kit I am mailing out today. I don't think I would survive till morning if I came home telling Mistress, "Hey babe, I mailed off my metabolic test. By the way, signed up for another Ironman today." I can already smell the April Fresh fabric softener on the pillow case that would be smothering me in bed.

There is more to life than Ironman. I'm over it. My hang up is not that I can't do the race, its that I want to be there in training for my friends and supporting them every stroke, pedal and stride like we have done for each other for almost four years. I still want to be relevant. I've heard its hard to be that when your dead.