Something is Stirring

Something is stirring beneath the surface - poking at the veil, wanting to be released. Something fiery and mighty, a winged beast whose time has nearly come. She is the athlete within, dormant for far too long, biding her time in the cold ashes, knowing that one day, it will be her turn. She is the gutsy broad who goes for what she wants, fear and pain and inconvenience be damned. She is the phoenix and she's almost ready to fly.

I first felt it last night, during a crazy hard session on my trainer - ACDC, Guns and Roses and Led Zepplin shaking my rafters, sweat making puddles on my carpet, quads and hams and hip flexors simultaneously screaming for more and begging for less. Underneath it all, a barely audible roar. Not a threat or a protest but a cry of joy and promise. Anticipation.

It came again as I practiced my transition, changing from bike shoes to running shoes with lightning precision - a familiar feeling hearkening back to my days on the stage, a quick change and off you go into another day, another scene, another life - and dashing out the door. My doubt that my legs would be up to the task was replaced with the bliss of feet springing off of pavement - legs that should have been heavy with fatigue exuberant as newborn colts bucking across April grass. The roar was louder this time, a song about the base pleasure of moving a body that's been trained to move. A body that doesn't have to be elite to love the feeling of speed - my speed, my pace, my dance.

So it seems that while I've been down here in my pit - a place not nearly as bleak as I may have made it sound - I've been doing more than looking at my rock collection. I've been building a fire.

Small now - tiny twigs, some coal - nothing to flare it up too fast. That time will come, now is the time to smolder. In a week, I'll feed it larger fodder until its a roaring blaze. And two weeks from Sunday, July 15, 2007 at 7:30 a.m., the dawn of my First Tri Ever, I will let her loose.

I don't know what's going to happen. I may fly. I may trip. I may fizzle out before the finish. It doesn't really matter. It can't be a coincidence that we call this race a Tri. I will try. And that will be enough.

(Thanks to Bold for reminding me what I am.)