Training was going well. Despite some setbacks with my glute/hamstring, I was making progress in PT and starting to feel good again. Then, something hit me. I am not sure what it was or how it came to fruition. Maybe it was the repetitive alarm wake-ups at 4am or the countless "sorry I can't make it replies" to being invited to events. After a really long talk with my little sis in the garage (she is also my new neighbor in case you didn't know they moved here from Florida!) she asked me, Do you even want to do this race? And I was like, without hesitation or warning, No. I don't want to. I don't want to train. I don't want to race. I don't want to continue "not living." You see, for over 3 years, I thought living was Ironman training and racing. Pushing myself past exhaustion. And in fact, it was quite the opposite. for me anyways. I mean, who did I think I was...Chrissie Wellington? So, that night, I emailed the Vineman race director and politely asked for my money back. I don't want to do this anymore. This is completely new territory for me. I have no races on the calendar this summer. Not even a marathon. I can't tell you how liberating and freeing this is for me. I have nothing left to prove, to myself or anyone. I really never did. But I didn't realize that until now. I need to focus on my husband and my furry babies and my family and my friends. I probably need to gain 10 pounds. I need to sleep more. Train less. I need to live. And I couldn't be more confident or happier. I am redefining my defitnition of normal. and Mike and I are still going to San Francisco/Sonoma at the end of July. For a vacation. A real vacation, without a race. It's time.