Starting Again

Before I begin, let me speak on a few unrelated topics. First, I will post a rebuttal to this unprovoked attack later on in the week. I am not sure if this vitriolic piece of writing even merits a response, but I will give it one nonetheless. Secondly, I apologize to my faithful readers for my inconsistency - I am currently working on a book and a script on top of the blog, which is no real excuse, but one that I will use anyway. I will try to be more regular. Lastly, I welcome all comments, and as I have said before, any pieces of writing that are submitted to me, I will gladly post.

That is all. On with the blog.

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I am training again, and it feels better than I remember. It is still too cold for my liking, [I think it was 58 degrees when I ran today], but I take comfort knowing that Spring and Summer always find a way to appear, and in a few months I will once again be running under the Texas sun, and a glass of cold water will taste better than it does now.

Today was my second run since Ironman Florida. My legs tire faster than they did a few months ago, my heart pounds a little harder going up hills, but all this is to be expected. I'm not concerned with mile pace or distance covered or time elapsed right now. No, I'm outside because I have been inside long enough, and it is time to to be back on the road, getting strong again. Strong enough to ride across America. Strong enough to take down my older brother, and maybe qualify for Clearwater. Even strong enough to look good while racing in a speedo.It has taken a lot of patience to get back to this point; to be excited about putting on my running shoes, or setting up the windtrainer.

For eight weeks after the race I did nothing. The closest thing to exercise I did was walk up and down a flight of stairs to get bottles of cold beer. I guess I also carried a bit of firewood and shoveled some snow. But that was really about it. Anything more than that seemed pointless - there was no longer a race, let alone an Ironman, to train for. Everything, every long run, every weekend ride, every swim session, every race, every damn thing I had done in 2009 was structured to get me across that line, which I did. I finished. I took a finisher's photo with my dad and brother, and then I went to sleep with sore legs. In the days after, I wore the finisher's t-shirt, sat on couches and hobbled around. I was an Ironman. But I didn't feel like one. I wasn't training, and even worse, I didn't want to.

But that feeling of stasis is gone, even though I was scared that it would never leave. I'm motivated, and right now that's enough. I have no training plan drawn out, no time goals in mind. I'm not even really sure what races I'll enter. I'm not sure if I'll be as fast as I was last yera. I don't need to. All of that will fall into place, like training always seems to. The peace of a long run, the slow fatigue in the legs, the sweat of a hard windtrainer session, that's enough for me right now.

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I'm sorry. I must cut this short. The ideas are there, but the words are not. I keep writing then deleting, then writing, then deleting. Unpleasant for the writer, usually even less pleasant for the reader. This is a difficult topic for me to write on, but one that I must try to regardless. There is so much I want to convey, and I am too frustrated to keep trying tonight. So I'll leave it here, wherever that may be.

Hopefully I'll find the right words somewhere out on the road. I've found plenty of other things there.