Sink or Swim? My First Triathlon

Alive. Proof that there is a God in heaven.

Alive. Proof that there is a God in heaven.

I did what every triathlete website and beginner advice column warned against–started front and center, middle of the swimming pack.

My excitement over the not-too-hot-not-too-cold, partly sunny skies had distracted my thoughts. And sights of odd helmets and bikes with fancy clips swirled with the new faces smiling from slick wet suits. With my feet in a lake and cool numbers marked on my calves, any sort of strategic thinking was washed away. I was alive. The seventy degree water told me so.
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Giving It a Tri

My bucket list came out to play today. Even though school starts in three days, the little energizer bunny in me itched to check something off. So I opened the old computer file. Safari. Rock climbing. Undergrad. Quilting. Simultaneously ironing a quilt block and my leg…. (I should’ve gone upstairs to the ironing board, but the carpet seemed more convenient and I sat down and set the thing aside so I wouldn’t burn myself while opening my legs to better lay the fabric on the floor without remembering that I’d set the iron…)

Ouch. It’s painful realizing that my dreams float in this holding pattern of too-late-not-yet’s. I’ve outgrown sleep-overs at the manatee exhibit. I’m wondering if pet-unicorns ever existed. I’m not old enough to drive route 66 in a baby blue convertible. I can’t fly my hypothetical kids to the Philippines. I won’t, in good conscience, produce hypothetical kids right now. What could satisfy my need for speed, wheels, and water? On a grad student’s budget?
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