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| The 4-year-old had palpable excitement over the birthday food. |
Post kid-bedtime run, anyone? Twice this week I had a bike with a transition run tacked onto it, and twice I marveled at this beautiful world given to us this time of year, with rolling, gravel-packed hills; green, GREEN grass; and rich, black fields with farmers in them, scurrying around with their own seeds to plant.
I grew up on a farm. I'm certain, without a doubt, that my work ethic comes from my tough-as-nails, self-made dad. Jason's most likely came from the same place. We both had persistent fathers with the ability to deny themselves comfort for the good of their families. My dad fostered this idea in my brother, my sister, and me early on that we could do anything and be anything if we just worked hard enough.
That value is gonna pay off this summer.
So, as stated last week, we received the first two weeks of our plan from Yoda the trainer. Then Monday hit along with some unforeseen complications. (I keep wondering if pros ever have unforeseen complications. . . Jesse Thomas anyone?) Anyway, at the end of Monday my unforeseen complications left me with one tooth less and directions to "take it easy" for a couple of days. Seriously?! Jason once again informed me to not stress out because, after all, we have 20 weeks, and better for this to happen in week one than in week 19. All I heard was, "Blah, blah, blah . . . suck it up, butter cup and stop feeling sorry for yourself."
Other than Monday's little glitch, the week really went off without a hitch. We biked. We swam. We ran. We celebrated the four year old's birthday on Wednesday with very unhealthy food and consequential gut aches during the next work out. Memorable (albeit predictable) lesson learned there.
I find our weaknesses so ironic right now . . . or maybe just interesting. I have plenty of physical weaknesses, but I'm waging a mental battle just about every time I get on a bike. I keep trying to figure out how fast I need to go to make the cutoff at IMChoo. And I sweat just thinking about it. Clearly I'm no stellar cyclist. I want to ride faster . . . and I suppose that's what training will do. Hopefully. Jason wasn't loving the t-runs this week. And they weren't loving him back either.
Our biggest strengths really lie with each other. I'm sure people tire of reading this, but I cannot imagine doing this alone--training for an ironman without someone else training too. While I was biking long this week, Jason totally took up the slack on the domestic front.
Nothing melts my heart more than seeing him finish folding a stack of laundry. Hold the chocolates. Chores do it for me.
When I finished my long bike that day (I was really peeved at how slow I am) and took off for a short transition run, the beauty of our South Dakota landscape struck me, and I realized that my bike speed, in that moment, did not matter. I have such a blessing of having Mr. T., who gets it, who understands the desire to do something a little bigger than ourselves, who has the same hopes and goals, and who does the laundry without ever complaining. Because he sacrifices, I want to sacrifice too. I want to take care of kids and make the recovery food while he puts some miles under his tires later.
I'm pretty sure we could not get to the finish line without each other.
Cheesy, I know. But SO true right now. So pardon the sappiness. I just can't help myself right now.
19 weeks and counting . . .
