I am doing my first triathlon in four years on Sunday.
I had pretty big plans for it. I was going to be in the best swimming shape I’ve been in in years. I was going to have many miles logged on the bike.
It’s only like my sixth or seventh triathlon, so it’s not like I’m a seasoned veteran or anything, but I really wanted to be able to be aggressive at this one and push myself from the very beginning rather than be super cautious and hold back so I’m able to finish without feeling like I’m going to need medical intervention.
And, as it so often does, life has gotten in my damn way. AGAIN.
Fuck off, Life!
The storm a couple weeks ago derailed my swimming temporarily when the Y was closed for three days and then I just fell off the routine.
A couple weeks ago I got back on track. Sort of.
I’ve been swimming twice in the last two weeks which isn’t really back on track, and certainly not a sufficient amount of swimming to be able to push myself in the first third of the race.
And I’ve only ridden my bike once. (So really pushing myself in that department is also out of the question since I still have no idea which gear buttons do what and I just keep clicking shit and hoping for the best).
So anyway, all the kids were pretty healthy all winter and spring.
And then, of course, because… LIFE… Numbers 5, 6, and 7 got sick this week.
Number 7 went down on Monday with a fever and severe sore throat.
Followed by Number 5 and 6 on Tuesday.
Number 5 had the world’s worst stomach virus and I’m pretty sure she set a world record for the number of times puking in one day by an eight-year-old.
We spent a good chunk of time in a makeshift outdoor bed.
Number 6 had the same thing as Number 7, but he’s what you’d call your stereotypical male. He does not handle being sick well at all.
I am praying to ALL THE GODS that he is well enough to go to school tomorrow.
I have not been able to get to the pool, and I have not been able to get on my bike and I haven’t been able to run since Tuesday.
And I was all set to go swim tomorrow.
Then my parents came back from driving Number 3 and 4 to practice tonight, and they took my car and my dad hit a deer and now my front headlight and turn signal are totally smashed on one side, so I don’t know if I can drive anywhere until I get that fixed because I’m like a police magnet and they will sniff that shit out if it’s not fixed right away and give me a ticket.
So I don’t know what all this means.
Either the Universe is trying to tell me to not do this triathlon on Sunday, or it’s just seriously testing me.
So Sunday has major shitshow potential.
But I’m not giving up.
Bring it on, Universe.
I’m gonna wing it and just hope for the best.