ironmantra by Shannon Thompson
I can’t believe how scared I am. Holy shit. My anxiety is off the charts, and it’s over something that is actually of no consequence whatsoever. That’s the part that makes me laugh and keeps me relatively sane. It’s all so freaking absurd, really it is. I mean, COME ON. Yes, yes, yes, I’ve worked hard and it’s going to be tough and blah blah blah, but WHO CARES? It’s a totally made up thing. It’s not cancer, it’s not violence, it’s not the Kardashians or any of these truly scary things. I’m not worried about getting hurt, or anything that matters. Not even worried about not finishing. A little worried about being so uncomfortable for so long. Mostly just terrified. It’s like I feel when I fly: I’m not actually scared of dying, I’m just scared of being that scared.
I’m also scared of my own mind. How kind will I be to myself tomorrow? We’ll just have to see.
So la la la. Spent the day organizing my stuff into bike and run gear for the transitions after the swim and the bike, bike and run “special needs” bags, for halfway between both events, the stuff I need after the race, my nutrition for the whole event. Checked it all in, was so stressed out that total strangers told me to breathe, got talked off the ledge a few times by my fabulous coach, Scott, and a few kind IMLP veterans, then had a pretty good time soaking up the excitement of the scene. Picked up my quadruple espresso from the coffee shop to stick in the fridge for bike mile 56 and the start of the run.
(Scott Layton, Ironman athlete, coach and hypnotherapist.)
(I’m serious. It is not a joke.)
Feet up, foam roller, the Lake Placid hockey movie “Miracle” streaming on the laptop, a hot bath and a light dinner, earplugs, two alarms set for 3:00…