I am not the kind of person who takes physical risks or pushes myself out of my comfort zone. I play safe. For example...
I never played team sports growing up.
I have never broken a bone.
I have never had stitches.
I have never gone skiing or snowboarding.
I can attribute my cautious tendencies to a multiplicity of factors including my pragmatic nature, protective mother, and grab bag of phobias/anxiety/insecurities.
All this to say that I am going to do something that is totally uncharacteristic of my behavior. I want to conquer something that I totally believe I cannot do: a sprint distance triathlon.
The Danskin Triathlon is August 19th & is an all ladies sprint distance triathlon. It is a 0.5 mi swim, 12 mi bike, and 3.1 mi run.
To many people, these distances seem reasonable and short, and in truth, that is an accurate view. A sprint triathlon is a feasible challenge for most able-bodied individuals, but it is more than the physical challenge for me- it is mental.
So I am going to give it a try.
While I don't really need to start "training" until mid-May (if I do a 13 week tiered program) I have to start talking about this triathlon with people to convince myself that it is a reality. I also have to fork over the money to fully commit myself to following through. In the mean time, I am working on increasing my general fitness level and activity and strengthening my sense of what I am able to achieve with my body.
Oh, this is a scary journey for me. I could use a cheerleader!
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Moon Child
I love that my first word as a child was moon. It is the perfect word to mark my linguistic beginning, although I cannot explain exactly why. Sometimes a person simply knows deep inside what is true and what is not.
One warm Wailuku night I was held on the golden beach outside our home. I stretched my chubby little finger to the sky, like Adam reaching toward God, and named the floating white lantern. Moon: it was my first identifiable word other than the traditional gurgles of “mama” and “dada.” This fact alone feels like magic to me. It makes me feel set apart, like Moses in his basket of bulrushes.
I wonder what was happening in my infant brain when I gazed at the silver glow and watched its rotund reflection dance in roll of waves. Did I see two moons? Did I understand them to be one? The image I hold in my heart, even now, is one where my deepest self surrenders to the mystery and majesty of the way things are.
One warm Wailuku night I was held on the golden beach outside our home. I stretched my chubby little finger to the sky, like Adam reaching toward God, and named the floating white lantern. Moon: it was my first identifiable word other than the traditional gurgles of “mama” and “dada.” This fact alone feels like magic to me. It makes me feel set apart, like Moses in his basket of bulrushes.
I wonder what was happening in my infant brain when I gazed at the silver glow and watched its rotund reflection dance in roll of waves. Did I see two moons? Did I understand them to be one? The image I hold in my heart, even now, is one where my deepest self surrenders to the mystery and majesty of the way things are.
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