Dawn

It is still dark here in Austin. Other than my room, there are only three rectangles of light visible in the entire hotel. I am unable to sleep. Dawn is approaching, and I am waiting for it.

Tomorrow is my first race, the Capital of Texas Triathlon, in which I will compete in the Olympic Distance event. Today, when there is enough light, Carmen Tequilo and I will recon one loop around the four loop bike course. Tomorrow we race. Tomorrow, dawn will come and questions will be answered.

I will plunge into Town Lake, prepared but fearful. That anxiety may float along for the ride, but it will not master me. This vessle does my bidding. Dawn is approaching, and I am waiting for it.

Carmen Tequilo and I will race together for the first time through the streets of Austin. The anxiety and apprehension of the strong and experienced racers will not cow me. We belong here. Dawn is approaching, and I am waiting for it.

I will split the Texas heat listen to the tempo of my feet. I have trained hard and hot. I will race hard and hot. I have been here before. Dawn is approaching, and I am waiting for it.

I will be a triathlete, instead of just someone who does triathlon training. Dawn is approaching, and I am waiting for it.

Two years ago, having played at and abandoned endurance sport several times, having gone to work and come home the same way every day, having gone a decade with no friends closer than business colleagues, something in me said, "things have got to change, and it starts now." It has changed. Many will race faster than me tomorrow, but none will race stronger. Tomorrow, I will become someone who finishes what he starts, even when it is hard. Indeed, I will be someone who picks challenges because they are hard, and makes them serve him.

Dawn is approaching. I can't wait.