could I be an Ironwoman?

This weekend was Ironman Wisconsin--as evidenced by all the ripped men and women walking around town, and all the really sexy bikes that I saw at the registration tent. As the race came and went, I found myself wondering "What makes these folks different than me? Could I be an Iron(wo)man?"

On Sunday evening, I went to watch the end of the race--when all the 'normal' people would be finishing. When I say normal, I mean those people who are not trying to qualify for Kona or win their age group (or the race!). How inspirational to watch these Ironmen, the ones who finish in 12 or 14 hours! These folks look alot like you and I: fit but not machine-like, sometimes younger, sometimes older, some bleeding, some smiling from ear to ear. I wish I was more eloquent so I could explain the elation I felt for them and with them as they turned the corner to head up State Street for the last 3/4 mile of a 140.6 mile day.

Could I be an Ironman? Maybe. But, I also realize that the glory that comes from crossing the finishline on race day comes at a cost. Hours spent on the bike, in the pool, out on the road running. The training plans are enough to turn me away. Week 12, Sunday: 6 hour bike, 2 hour run--as a brick. Right now, I am saying no thank you. Maybe one day, but not now. I'm not tough enough mentally, nor am I practiced enough in the sport. I've set my sights on something more within reach: the half-iron, 1.2 mile swim, 58 mile bike, 13 mile run. THAT seems doable. Not easy, but a goal that can be attained with alot of sweat and tears.

Triathlons aren't my life (not like you can tell that from the blog). To be an Ironman, I feel like you have to be a triathlete first and a person (wife, mom, friend, co-worker, etc.) second. I'm not ready to make that sacrifice. The glory of Ironman doesn't seem worth it--but after seeing those runners Sunday night, it makes me wonder if it might be.