As a good friend says

Uh oh...ready or not...Wildflower, here I come...

I never wanted to be an athlete. I hated gym in school. I hated those atrocious one piece stretchy blue gym suits that made me look like a baby whale. I hated climbing the ropes, and running track, and doing gymnastics. An embarrassing moment forever etched into my brain: me on the uneven bars, trying to flip my legs up over the top bar and getting stuck up there, fat little legs kicking frantically while the kids below laughed. I hated gym.

And I wasn't one of those kids who spent their days biking, and swimming and playing in little leagues. I guess I was in early training for librarianship, my favorite activity being curling up on the sofa and reading. And eating of course.

I really loved to eat. I still do. I don't understand people who forget to eat. In school we would have to remind my friend Brian to eat. He never remembered if he had breakfast or not. How do you forget food?

Fat. Shy. Inactive. That was me. As far from athletic as gucci bags are to gym bags. The only race I ever did as a little kid was a running race around a track, and I kept turning around looking at the kids behind me to make sure I wasn't alone. I finally stopped before the finish line and went to find my dad to tell him I was tired and wanted to go home.

So after spending most of my life as the shy, fat girl on the sidlelines it is bewildering, at 36 years, to find myself suddenly an athlete. I'm not an athlete. I'm slow. I'm a little pudgy. And there are times during the race I still want to go look for my Dad and tell him I'm tired and I want to go home.

I was going to do one triathlon last year. After my calf injury, Wildflower was my dangling carrot to keep me going. I couldn't run for ten months, but I couldn't give up hope either because I had signed up to do this race. I never thought I would do another tri. And then another, and then another, and so on and so on... Suddenly I was having a "season" when all I wanted was a day.

Then I got a mountain bike. Lord have mercy. Here was a whole other way to torture myself; training for four sports in one year. Constantly juggling a training schedule and always feeling inadequate. Not enough swimming. Not enough biking. Too tired to run? Too bad, have to do it anyway.

Last year, my friend and I had several conversations about "want to" vs "have to". Did I have to train? Or did I want to? Do I have to do triathlon? Or do I want to? What is it that I really want to do when I wake up in the morning? I have been thinking about it these past months. What do I want to do? What would God have me do? Is there some purpose for this beyond sweaty gym socks, and strained muscles? Who am I? An athlete? A triathlete?A runner? A biker? A quitter? I still don't have an answer. I raced this weekend on my mountain bike and I had a great time. But I don't have this burning desire to do it again.

So what do I want to do?

I want to spend more time on my mountain bike. Not necessarily training for a race, but just riding, and improving.
I want to be able to run on my own time, with no training schedule telling me I have to run this day or that day for so many minutes or miles.
I want to be able to take a day off when I'm tired and aching, and not feel like I'm a failure.
I want to feel healthy, and strong, and stay that way.
I want to share these activities with my friends, but not be tied to a training schedule.

And I want to do Wildflower.

Beyond that, I don't know. And I'm really comfortable with that.

So yes, I'm retiring from being an athlete. I really didn't want to be one anyway. I'm just me, and it's all good.

"praying the prayer that never fails",
Elizabeth