Endurance Sport.

Endurance sport. I am 32 years old, have played sports my entire known life, and last night was the first I have ever heard this term. Actually, I read it in my new book I purchased to assist me in getting to my ultimate training weight but that is neither here nor there. Endurance Sport. I was star stuck and I sat straight up in bed. Endurance Sport. The idea is so intoxicating, so tantalizing. Endurance Sport. The combination of words rang true like Italian church bells. Endurance. Sport. The fine art of competing on who can do something longer... go further...





My whole life I have felt that I have had a very special and evil ability of going one inch more than my enemy, my competitor. I have always known this, I just thought there was only one word people used to describe it... "nuts". I use to have staring contests with my gramma and after hours of mirror practice, I developed the what I call the "lose your thought method" and till this day, I am practically unbeatable. The ability to not blink for several minutes is not a god given talent. I wasn't born with wetter eyeballs. I don't have special lubricating tear ducts that secrete special moisture to sustain me while not blinking. The truth lies inside of me. The same deep, dark, cave where my internal voice whispers to me "Don't let them win".





And it doesn't stop with staring. Swimming- when I was 9 years old, I almost drowned in a 5 foot pool because I knew that I could tread water longer than my 56 year old neighbor - Virginia Dillon. Never mind the fact that I could release my knees and my feet would touch the bottom of the pool. I was going to swallow dangerous amounts of chlorinated water before I let that wrinkly old bitch out tread me. And I did- out tread her that is. And its not just sports. I can withstand the excoriating pain of an Indian burn like.. well... an Indian. Eyebrow plucking. Sitting in Saunas. Beer Bongs. I pushed a ten pound, 2 foot long baby out of my vagina. It took me three hours but one way or another, that little guy was coming out the hard way. And why? Because the doctor stood there and said I physically couldn't push anymore. And so I did. I pushed. And pushed. And pushed until I started to black out in between contractions. This list is endless and disgusting and impressive.





And when crossed... there is nothing I won't say, nothing I won't bring up, and no emotional boundary or imaginary red line that I won't step over. And like my physically endurance, there is injury and deep regret afterward... none of which is ever admitted to publically.




Endurance Sport. I laid in bed and let those magically words wash over me like honey. You're not crazy. You're not an animal. Endurance Sport. The words swam in my head like sugar plums while I softly drifted asleep. I'm not what they have been saying I am- for my whole life.




I AM an endurance athlete.

The number

I find numbers comforting. They don't lie. They are black and white. Math is the same in every country. Numbers tell me how far to go, how much distance is left, and when to stop. The number of the scale tells me how much I'm worth. The digits, mockingn me in red flashing light from the dash board of my car, remind me that I don't have time to stop and get gas. To smell the roses. To breathe. If days are numbers, how many numbers will it take me to weight 40 lbs less... Another number. I need this number to happen to get me to my next number injury free. To get me to 26.2. Not another number. THe ONLY number. The number only 1% of Americans can get to. The sum of my real net worth. This is y new math. Me minus 40 lbs minus a social life, plus 35 miles a week in training equals 26.2. Welcome to my journey... From zero to 26.2 in ten months.