It is a month today since my sister died. Those three words “my sister died” still take my breath away. It is becoming my new reality, but it still feels raw and awful.
Yesterday I had the first procedure of the dental implant process. I am incredibly grateful for dental insurance and Flexible Spending Accounts and the job that is paying for all of this. I am also grateful for a great periodontist with awards all over his walls. He is a handsome young man and a very good surgeon.
He is also an Ironman Triathlete. Somehow the topic came up and I told him about my Sprint tri coming up in August (a month from today). As I was leaving his office yesterday, we stopped and talked for maybe 15 minutes about our training. And as I got in my car, I thought “This is why I am a triathlete.”
So this young athletic Doctor chats with me as a peer. A fellow athlete. A person who understands why he doesn’t want to wear a wetsuit and why finding a place to train on the bike is now so challenging in the Denver metro (because of our ever-expanding population, many of whom have moved her to smoke pot – gross), how gaining weight seems to be inevitable when training hard, etc. We talked and laughed and enjoyed ourselves.
I think this makes me “other” than a 64 year old overweight woman. Which is what I am. But I am an athlete. I run races. I do triathlons (this will be my 10th). Even if I come in last, which I have done more than once, I am still out there.
I think I signed up for this race in February or March. I thought I “needed” it because of my job. I had no idea what the summer would hold and no idea how very badly I needed this event in the future, and the eternal present of training. Thank God for it.