70.3

70.3. That would be the number of miles I forced my body to be in motion last Sunday. And why would I partake in such idiocracy? I blame myself. I do. Because this time last year, the Mr. and I were celebrating the completion of our first half marathon, and I thought it would be really "fun" to take on a half IRONMAN. I mean, we had just done a half marathon, how could it be so different? That's correct - I thought it would be a mere trifle to tack on a 1.2 mile swim and a 56 mile bike to our 13.1 mile run. Hi, my name is Eryn, and I'm off my rocker.

So Mr. Spouse and I trained, and trained, and trained (and trained) until we could train no more, putting in 13 mile runs after work in the dark, 50 mile bike rides on the sides of interstates, and swimming more laps than I care to recount. And it all came down to one day. One day where the Mr. and I and three compadres lined up with 2,000 other certifiably insane people to swim here:

bike this:

and run until our legs could run no more...and don't I look thrilled about it?!

Nope. I didn't make it look pretty, but I did it, and I finished only a few minutes behind the pace I had planned. Stretch that "v", dot that "i", curl that "c-t-o-r-y". Won't ever do it again, but I did it. Bucket List, Item 43: check.

The mood at the finish line?

Euphoric.

So that's where I've been for the past month and a half. Pushing aside this bitty blog so that I could be a crazy person and pretend to like running, swimming, and biking over insane distances...for fun. But just like Backstreet, I'm back, and I have so much to share with y'all! A new classroom, a revamped den, a newly contained linen closet, and much much more! It'll be fun, y'all...not Ironman fun...real fun.

Can't wait to get to know y'all again.