"I've been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes."
How long have I been listening? The music of intimidation, the song of insecurity, the gospel of graduate school.
I have listened to the lectures and the speeches and the seminars.
I have listened to defenses and breathing capitalist info-mercials.
I have heard the gospel and the sermon, the prayer and the confession.
The sound of failure and survival over the years has begun to sound the same, the soul among these voices almost non-existent. Am I destined to become one of these? Will my ultimate comfort some day be the sound of my own voice like it is for those around me?
It is the 18th week of Ironman training.
I am strong and getting quicker, but approaching each workout takes its own brand of strength and conviction. Each time I step to the edge of the pool, each time I snap into my pedals, each time I lace up the running shoes; determined, yet afraid. The rain, the cold, the wind-- yet again. Hours and hours. The fatigue of each pedal stroke to pass over yet another hill. The numbness in my toes and fingers. Again and again I push the limits of my willingness to perform at an unprecedented level (for me) in the hopes of... what was it again?
There is never enough sleep. Never enough time. Only more to do, more pushing and exerting. More thinking and planning. More organizing. More more and finally, more.
Eating, sleeping, working, training. I become Microsoft Outlook.
This morning I took 5 minutes to watch my dog after her morning walk. She rolls over in her bed that is too small for her and glances at me, upside down, her paws flapping around the ends of her legs like rubber. Her lips are hanging back from her doggy gums to reveal her dirty canine incisors. She sneezes. Surprised even at herself, she whirls herself up and shakes vigorously, her tags and emblems rattling on her collar. She looks at me and blinks, head cocked over and ears perked up.
I look at her and smile and appreciate the simplicity of her life.