I am officially nervous. My heart is beating a bit fast, my hands are shaking, and my chest feels a little twisty.
I am getting my gear together for Sunday. Sunday? What’s so big about Sunday? Nuthin’, really… except the biggest challenge of my life - gah! OK, with the exception of the epidural “incident” during the birth of my first child, but you don’t want me to go there… back labor… it was ugly.
Sunday I am taking on my longest triathlon distance (an Olympic distance - a .92 mile swim, 24 mile bike and 6 mile death march run). I have done 5 sprint triathlons since 2001. Started doing them for baby-weight losing goals. The sprint distance is great, but I thought it was time to stretch myself, and today is the day I need to get my gear together.
As I debated which race number strap to wear, MEN came to my mind. Triathlon-y men! Competetive, prolly-gonna-be-knocked-out-by-a-MAN-elbow-during-the-swim-kinda-MEN! This is my first coed tri! What was I thinking? I’m gonna get pounded… or at least dunked like a poor little, sweet rubber ducky during toddler bath time. The horror!
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