It's almost 11:00 PM EST, and I need to wake up in about five hours to start getting ready for my "culminating" race of the summer. This is a bitter sweet end for me.
Where I thought I would be physically, and where I actually am, don't exactly match. Although I feel relatively recovered from hurting my back earlier this summer, I have not exactly recovered to where I initially thought I would be:
In April, my race time was 3 hours and 9 minutes, or something like that.
My goal time for this race was going to be between 2 hours and 55 and 2 hours and 59 min.
Now, I am shooting for 3 hours and 5 min.
These may seem like insignificant differences, but they aren't, and the line I now feel between "Wow, I can't believe I do triathlons" and "Wow, I feel like I am a complete failure because I don't do these as fast as I perhaps should (whatever that means)" is becoming increasingly more and more blurry.
I guess never being happy with results is what keeps people pushing to improve, but the mental anguish I sometimes feel at not being able to push myself to my absolute limits weighs on me.
I am so amazed at some of the things I have learned about myself via doing triathlons: commitment as well as mental and physical strength, to name a few.
But I know there is more...and I haven't tapped into where this journey is taking me yet...
...and that really bothers me.