I'm tired. Seriously, exhausted from training. I'm in the final push right now. Going hard, it's like the only things in my life are work, training, and sleep.
I brought this on myself. No one asked me to train for a half ironman. No one even strongly suggested it. A few may have discouraged it. It was an idea that was all mine. It's an insane thing to do, really.
Three weeks from now I'll be loading up the car and heading to Geneva.
Three days later I will come back with a Musselman medal.
It will not matter that my apartment has been messy for a month. There will be plenty of time to clean then.
It will not matter that I've put on a few pounds due to an increased craving in carbs and takeout in leiu of cooking. They will come off.
It will not matter that I've blown off a few work socials, kickball games and other fun things I've wanted to do. There will be plenty more opportunities.
I will still have the bike, the wetsuit, the clothes, the Garmin and all the things I've been spending money on.
I will still have the friendships I've developed through this journey. Triathletes are wonderful people.
I will then be able to buy a new couch and do other things with my disposable income beyond buying things I need to train. They will still be put to good use.
The aches and pains will heal. I will be able to go to yoga and actually try some of the harder poses.
The nightmares of forgetting my helmet on race day will seem silly.
I will have accomplished something I set out to do almost a year ago.
I will be a stronger person.
I will have that medal.