"I highly recommend you don't race on Saturday..."

My heart sank. 

My body was overwhelmed with heat as tears instantly fell from my eyes. There was no point in even trying to hold them back.

"That isn't an option"

The doctor stood there as she tried to talk me out of my upcoming race. "You do understand that strep is more then just a sore throat, right?"

I did. 

I've never had it [which makes me getting it this week even more ...retarded], but when I woke up in pain at 2am, I had an idea of what it was. I did my research. 

I understood what strep was... 

... she didn't understand this race.

She didn't understand my last 267 days.

"I'm racing" ... it was that simple... is that simple.

She must have gotten how serious I was from the flood of tears pouring from my eyes, because I do notice my medication is one of a slightly higher dosage.

Tomorrow I leave for Cambridge

It is still hard to believe that the race I have worked all year for is just 3 days away.

Actually, 2 days 10 hours 21 minutes and 13 seconds as I type this... [even less as you read this because these posts take me forever to write].

I've said it once, I've said it many times.... but where has the time gone?

Even though I know better, I begin to question myself. Did I work out often enough? Did I work out hard enough? I think of the workouts I didn't do - rather then the ones that I did. I think all the thoughts that I shouldn't. And now, being stuck in bed, I feel weak. I don't worry about how I will feel on race day, because if I am under the weather that will get pushed aside by race emotions. What worries me is my inability to properly prepare - physically, nutritionally, and mentally - in these days leading up to the race. These days, which are just as important as the last 268.

Like a flip of a switch, those thoughts change.

I did. I'm ready. I have the heart. 

I choke up thinking of the finish line, and I picture myself crossing it. 

I get excited.

But just as quickly as they came, those thoughts go.

What if I don't finish?

It is a constant battle. An angel devil argument.

But what will happen, will. 

I've done what I can to get to this point. I'm not a professional. I'm a 26 year old with responsibilities outside of training. Workouts were missed, some weren't as hard as they should have been, and cheat meals happened more frequently then intended ... but I started, and I stuck with it.

I would be lying if I said that I wouldn't be devastated if I don't cross that finish line on Saturday. But no matter the outcome ... I need to remember just how far I've come these last [less then] 9 months.

“Too often we are so preoccupied with the destination, we forget the journey.”

I started swimming.

I battled my bathing suit anxiety, I can swim the 2.4 miles [and then some], and the old guy from my first swim class ... wweellll... he still passes me - but I'm perfectly okay with that.

I learned to clip in.

After weeks of falling and feeling that I would never get the hang of it...  after many 5am circles around my cul de sac so that no one would see me crash to the ground ... and after seeing a little boy get the hang of bike riding quicker then me ... I've done 3 century rides. 

I may have an occasional slip and I may not be 100% comfortable on my aerobars [or even near 100%], but I'm proud of how far I've come.

I've set up my first transition, I've done my first triathlon ... ever, I did my first open water swim, and I have had my first near death experience with a crazy driver.

But what is most important, is that I got out there ... I will get out there. 

I've tried and I will try.

I'll race until I can't. 

I'll give it my all.

For years I've had an Ironman listed on my 'bucket list'. Whenever someone asked me what is something I would like to do, it would always be one of the things on the top of my list. It was there ... and I never took a step to actually go for it. I was beginning to think it would just be one of those things I would say I wanted to do, but never would.

I didn't know what I was doing when I signed up... in any way. I didn't know what I was thinking, I didn't know how to train, I didn't know what I was about to put myself through.

Most of my training sessions were done alone. I half followed a book and guessed the rest.

I've had little free time, no relaxation.

These last few months have cleaned out most of my social life. I lost friends, lost relationships....

... But gained everything.

Out of this experience I have walked away with [a few] new friends... great friends... the best of friends.

I've had a great deal of support and encouragement from many, often times leaving me with smiles and [good] tears. [I only look tough]. It's a support that will continue to support me, no matter what happens on Saturday.

I've never been so speechless so many times.

I've gained confidence.

I've been blessed. I am blessed. 

This journey has become much more then I expected it to be. What started off as a mission to complete 140.6 miles in less than 17 hours... is now so much more.

I've raised money for Make-A-Wish.

I've inspired and have been inspired.

Passion and meaning have been added back into my life.

I've gained love, I love more.

I put myself down, but compliment myself more often.

I'm proud.

The doctor looked at me crazy when I [probably not so kindly] dismissed her advice. To her, it was just a race.

To me, it is so much more then just that.

It is more then early mornings, late nights, and skipped lunches.

It is more then hard work and dedication.

It is more then sweat and tears - both good and bad.

It is more then a dream.

It's me, and that is something I'll never give up on.

Finish line at my first triathlon.

[Insert photo of ChesapeakeMan finish soon]