Twelve Ways to Move On From a Perfectly Bad Saturday
Appreciate that you weren’t one of the dozens who had to be rescued from the sea, one of the hundreds who signed up but didn’t show up or one of the thousands who never even tried.
- Know that you know your limits and live to fight another day.
- Be happy that your worst fears weren’t realized.
- Realize that you weren’t able to finish the race not because you weren’t strong enough but simply because you weren’t fueled enough.
- Value the work you did to get to the starting line.
- Be grateful that you didn’t get hurt.
- Revel in the fact that you reached your goal weight this year.
- Take time to enjoy the beauty of the place.
- Embrace the feeling of health and wellness you now enjoy – a feeling which money can’t buy.
- Be glad you weren’t the guy sitting next to you in the medical tent who, while he was wearing the finisher’s medal you so desperately coveted, was also bound for the hospital and didn’t even know his own name.
- Be thankful for the family and friends, coaches and trainers, tri club team mates and perfect strangers who tolerated, supported and encouraged you along the way.
- Get out of bed at 7:30 a.m. the very next day, stand in line for three hours and sign up for Ironman Florida 2013.
I wish I had thought of any one of those things last week when I emailed you. You’re a better pep-talker for yourself than I am for you! Very nice.
Mate! I’ve only just found your blog whilst seeking motivation to lose the fat I put down to baby weight – even though “baby” is nearly 10!
Well done for picking yourself up and getting back on the horse. I’m going to watch your every post while you make your way toward Ironman Florida 2013.
Makes my achievement of running my first mile without collapsing seem like a walk in the park!
Ha! My “baby” is 27. Seems one can use that excuse for DECADES! Enjoy the journey, embrace the challenge!
You are amazing.
Aw, shucks, darling! Thanks!
Awwwwww, man! I just read your blog for the first time, well, ever… and I learned that your IronPerson attempt went awry. That is such a bummer. I really was pulling for you. I mean, I totally forgot you were doing an IronPerson, but still… I hoped you would finish. But… HOW SWEET IS IT THAT YOU DIDN’T FINISH? Guess what… neither of us has ever finished an IronPerson thingy. Ha! I’m totally as cool as you. It is so much fun being me and not you. Oh, I’m way, way, WAY younger than you, too. Granted, I didn’t know how friggin’ much older you were than me for two decades because your hair rocked, but still. Anyway, I’ve got to go be awesome. Good luck with your next overly ambitious athletic endeavor. You’ve always been an inspiration to me, especially when your failure makes me look normal.
Love and love,
RodZilla, Fellow IronPerson DNFer
“DNFer Die!”
Correction, Mr. Zilla … you are a DNSer. (Did Not Starter.) And my DNF trumps your DNS any day.
Plus, I’m old. And that trumps your youth. Especially when I am allowed to apply my AARP discount. And you, like a loser, have to pay full fare! Ha!