Some people want the life of luxury, or to vacation on the Virgin Island, while sipping a Mai-Tai, and others just want to roll around in cold hard cash; think Uncle Scrooge McDuck from Ducktales. Me, I want to swim with the sharks, sit on a narrow plastic saddle then run while getting heat stroke in the middle of summer. If you’ve never heard of Ironman, you’re like most people who could care less about the grueling sport.
For me it’s been a dream of mine, ever since I was a very young girl, staring at the tube, and crying for no reasons know to myself. Just in awe of the all those who finished the ungodly task-in-hand. And before you get too bored about the sport all you need to know is it consisting of a 2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bicycle ride and a marathon 26.22-mile (42.20 km) run.
And that’s as technical I’ll ever get to blabbing my pie hole about that, in fact, although it has been my lifelong dream, I’ve only considering doing the half of a whole. Which, in the industry is 70.3. Now, now don’t worry I plan to tackle the whole pie, but for now baby steps.
I do feel it’s the perfect storm for me now; I’m currently relocated back to San Francisco, out of a job, and not planning to bake any buns in my oven. Such is life, some like the challenge of miniature humans, but I like mine with a chance of death or at the very least a likely promise of bloody nipples (yes it’s a thing).