OK Folks, Fun’s Over; Back on the Bus

“Ok, folks, fun’s over. Back on the bus!”

I’m getting serious now, I can feel it. Yesterday was the last workout of any consequence. I’m taking my last two doses for sodium phosphate loading. I haven’t had a flat tire since I fixed the rim tape and the valve stem a week ago. The weather and winds seem familiar, and thus mentally manageable. My wife, bless her, is here to support me and put up with whatever psychotic breakdown I may have in the next 36 hours. I’m running out of food, and even getting a little (emphasis on “little”) fat. The town is FILLED with tri geeks, and I’m doing my best to avoid them.

For the past 10 years, I’ve been building my base, and finding my speed. This is my fifteenth Ironman (close to 150 total races) since Nov 2000, and I think I know the drill. I am more ready for this race than any I’ve ever done. Tomorrow, for my last post, I think I’ll share a little metaphor my coach gave me, that I can take and use through the day on Saturday. For now, I’ll just leave you with the photo above, a reminder that you can follow my progress on Ironman.com. The race starts at 10 AM PDT, and I should finish by 10:30 PM, PDT.

For the truly obsessive, I am also including this link to my exhaustingly thorough race plan for the next two days. I warn you, DO NOT READ THIS, unless you have a high tolerance for OCD behavior. It reminds me of a book I once read to my children, when they were about 4 and 6 (the youngest was yet to be born.) It was a description of an airplane trip, from leaving home, to getting in the cab after landing. It had pleasant, reassuring pictures of smiling flight attendants, bending over to pat little Johnnie and Joan on the head and wide aisles with low backed seats on the plan, wide windows, and no screaming babies. It was meant to familiarize the kids to riding on a plane. My kids loved it, and clamored for repeat reads. I would not do it. It was the most excruciatingly boring children’s book I ever encountered, written in a tone of hyper realism, leaving no facet of the journey unexplored.

I can’t imagine who might want to actually read this (except me), but someone might find it morbidly fascinating, and final proof of my fall into a psychic abyss from which there will be no escape. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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