My Finest Hour

I normally post a round-up of my progress in the preceding month on the last day of the month, but I'm not going to do that today. My race is in three days, and I'm more interested in looking forward than looking back. Perhaps that's how it should always be in life.

But some of my thoughts are wandering back over the last nine months. It's been a long journey, and without a doubt one of the most delightful of my life. I was reminded of this in a recent email that a very good friend (and seasoned Ironman-er) sent in recent weeks (hey Anthony - did I ask permission to quote you? If not, too late now!):

I’m so excited for you, though, as you take on this final phase of the “quest”. This last month is really about soaking in everything. Think of all the changes you have made, all the sacrifices, and all the ups and downs, and really try to smile and appreciate it all for what it has been for you. If you haven’t found that yet, then use this month to think of the life you are creating for yourself, a happy, healthy, fulfilled life. Find a purpose that you can draw on for your race. A mantra, a phrase, a life-purpose that you can grab on to that will carry you through to the finish line. Think of those who WILL be there to see you. Your new friends, your new community, all of what has become the new “Rachel’s life”. And think of all your adoring fans back home, who think of you constantly, wish you the best, and love you for who you are.

Besides warming my heart to no end, Anthony's words reminded me of something I need to remind myself of: that it is often the journey, and not the final competition, that shapes us. Everybody says that doing an Ironman (and I think this can apply to anything we take on in life that is a challenge to our comfort zones) is life-changing. You are not the same person on the other side of that day.

And yet as I reflect on the last nine months of preparation - from tugging my mountain bike over snowbanks in Switzerland through a morbid January to my first sleeveless rides through the poppy fields and budding vineyards of springtime France, from running off over-indulgence on the streets of Rome the morning after discovering vegan pizza to searching German supermarkets for anything that didn't contain sausages, from trying to motivate myself to go to the pool and swim just one kilometer in an icy March to being first out of the water in open-water training sessions under a hot early evening sun at Narbonne beach - I know that I am not the same person that set out on this path. It's true that I have made many changes in my life this year, from leaving a relationship to moving countries, but the journey of preparing for Ironman has been the rhythm beating in the background throughout. It's brought me joy and it's brought me frustration; it's brought reflections to my mind and it's brought people into my life; there have been days when I didn't want to do it and days when it was the only thing that kept me sane; it's shaped my choices, and it has therefore shaped me.

I noticed this week that I began to have thoughts along the lines of 'I just want it to be over with.' A fairly normal evolution of emotions as the reality of what I'm about to do (I'm going to run a marathon after swimming and biking for how long?) looms large and fear and anxiety begin to creep in. But why would I wish away a day that I have looked forward to and prepared for for so long? As another wise person once said to me before I took part in my first marathon (Hey Anthony, was this you again?): you did the work to make it to the start line, and whatever happens on the race course, no one can ever take that away from you.

Who knows what will happen out there on Sunday. But when I'm standing at the water's edge, waiting for the gun to go off in the pre-dawn light, I'll know that the journey alone was worth it. So I'm going to relish in these, the last few steps that lead me to the start line. Whatever comes to pass will come to pass; for now, this is my finest hour.