Tomorrow is the Toronto Triathlon Festival. I’ll swim, cycle, and run for the third time in my life and quite frankly, I’m feeling ill-prepared. But unlike last year’s clusterf*ck at the Ontario Women’s Triathlon I know I will muddle my way through it.
And then I have a plan. It’s still in my head and I haven’t said it out loud to anyone but my husband. I’m not even sure if it will come to fruition but I think it will because it’s been niggling at me ever since my husband, the truth-teller, told me the truth about something once again and now it has stuck with me, like a leech I can’t remove. But this idea depends on how tomorrow goes, not time-wise but how I feel after it’s over.
So tomorrow I race, in the 45-49 age group, no less.
But first, before anything, I need to see if my wetsuit still fits.