Dear Athlete

Dear Sheila:

This is Ironman Lake Placid (aka IMLP). I just wanted to see where you're at, considering we're going to meet up again in 7 weeks. You signed up for me just under a year ago, remember? Remember how you said you weren't going to see me again, and yet the day before last year's race there you were in line with the others ready to sign up again?

You know what? I have no fucking idea what the weather will be on race day. It might suck like last year; it might be beautiful like in 2007.

I don't care that you got sick and it caused a few weeks of what you consider sub-standard training.

I don't care that you are still crying over someone who didn't know how or really want to be your friend.

I don't care that it has become challenging to you to manage your daily life--feeding yourself, taking care of dishes, bottles and laundry, bills, your car, your house, your yard, your job, your friends--while trying to be ready for me.

I don't care that you are starting to have "the dreams." You know--the ones where you are in transition naked and late for the start of the race, your bike was stolen and there is nobody around to help you.

I don't care that you are getting stressed about THE STRESS. Even if you claim that you are so jaded that you don't experience it any more.

I don't care that you at your lowest race weight ever or how good you think it makes you look and feel.

I don't care that that run the other day was fucking great.

I don't care that you feel all alone since your parents are gone and never saw you during an Ironman race.

I don't care that you are saying this might be your last Ironman ever. I wouldn't care if it were your first, either.

I don't care what kind of silly race outfit you decide to wear or whether you wear those stupid streamers on your race belt.

I don't care whether you think you have the most fast, aero gear shit in the world.

I don't care that you trained more than some other people or less than some others. I really don't care how much you trained PERIOD.

I don't care whether you think you're ready for me right now or not.

I won't care if you get injured or are sick on race day. You've done that before, right?

I don't care how long it will take you to finish with me.

This is what I do care about:

• That you know, deep down in your heart, that you will be so happy to see me, that for that one day, no matter how much psychic or physical pain you might be in, you will be glad for having made it here at all.
• That you realize, even when you deny it, that other people look at you and think "hey, there's a woman who can commit to something and make it happen." And they want to be like you.
• That while you are out there, you can look at the other athletes, and they can look at you, and no matter that you are strangers or the look of pain and suffering on your faces, you know something about one another, and that knowing will give you energy to continue.
  
• That whether it takes you 9, 17 or some other number of hours to finish that it will be an accomplishment worthy of some serious celebration that you will honor.
• That you love and cherish all the people who helped you get here. They will see it in your eyes when you finish, and know that you will do the same for them in whatever endeavor they choose.
• That I will not have changed your life forever--you changed it yourself on the way here.