Last week, I thought about rolling my bicycle out of my shed.

I thought about registering for some kind of race… to give me something to train for.  Self-motivation aside, I need something like that to keep on keeping on.

By the next day, my husband Barry had taken matters into his own hands (and bicycle rack) and delivered my bike to Providence Cycle for a good tune-up.

And I had registered for the July 24th Danskin Sprint Triathlon in Webster, MA. (my daughter-in-law Nicole is also doing this Tri, so this will be fun), printed out my Hal Higdon training plan, and picked-up my awesome like-new Cannondale…

I keep a box of stuff on my counter for easy access.  Here it is…

Good to go.

Except that I actually had to GO… as in getting my act together in training.

First, I amended my training plan to give me Saturdays as my REST days rather than Fridays.  I really need and love one weekend day off for any number of reasons… mostly, for family.

This means that my 8-week training began yesterday.  It began with a STRENGTH workout.  I did it.  I enjoyed it.

Today’s workout just stared at me from my training schedule.  Run 30 min.

OK. I haven’t run one single step since I ran my first marathon, Cox Marathon, on May 1st. I felt a little intimidated.

I could hear my own voice in my head.

I can do 30 minutes.  Right?  I ran a marathon, for God’s sake.  But that was a month ago. Can I run 30 minutes?  Isn’t a thunderstorm predicted? (Look out window. Clear sky.) What about my foot?

Ah, yes.  My foot. 

I had a bit of an accident with my foot and a bunny last Sunday.  Yes, I said my foot and a bunny.  Here’s the little culprit…

See the pot of geraniums?  Barry and I had spent almost all day Saturday and Sunday in our yard, planting beautiful things, fertilizing, mulching, arranging and admiring our work.  When it was time to stop for dinner on Sunday, I paused on our back porch landing (where the innocent bunny is) and popped off my shoe, then pulled at my sock… which was wet with sweat.  I pulled a little harder, then harder, then the sock slid off and I swiftly put my foot down.  Hard.  Right through the tip of one bunny ear. 

OUCH wasn’t exactly what I said.

There was blood everywhere.

Then more OUCH (or something like that) as Barry cleaned and bandaged my wound.

The voice came back in my head…

Can I run with this bandage?  Shouldn’t I wait another day?  Or two?  Won’t I hurt my foot.  Why am I doing this?

Then I thought why I do these things in the first place… these races and runs and sprints and triathlons and my one marathon (thus far). I began this journey about 2 1/2 years ago and haven’t stopped.

The answer came loudly and clearly in my head.  I do these things for myself… my health and well-being… that’s true.  My Dad died at age 47 after suffering a heart attack, and the pain of losing him has never left me.  I want to be my healthiest self for my myself, my husband, my mom and my family.

Then there’s the love of being outside, kind of like being a kid again.  Blame it on my post menopausal feeling of being an 11-year old girl again.  Don’t tell me what I can’t do!

There are my husband and 4 kids and my in-law kids who support me with every step I take.

There’s my 86-year old Mom who would be doing triathlons and marathons if she could.  She was quite an athlete in her day.

And then there are my 9 grandchildren.  If I close my eyes, I can see each of them cheering for me when I run by, pedal my bike or pull on my wetsuit.  I can see their eyes and smiles and feel their hands and arms reach out to me.  I can hear their voices cheering, Go Grandma! Go Grandma!

My grandkids never ask me why I do these things.  They never ask my times.

But they do ask when they can do something with me.  Something like a Sprint Tri Relay.

It is a dream of mine to compete along with my grandchildren.  They are still too young, but my granddaughters are now 10 years old and both are accomplished swimmers.  My oldest 3 grandsons are 8, almost 7 and 6.  This dream could happen sooner than I imagine.

So, today, I ignored my bandaged foot, stymied those voices of insecurity in my head and got out there.

You never get anywhere if you don’t just GO.

I ran 3 miles.  It felt like the day I ran 26.2.  But I ran 3 miles in 32 minutes.

Those 3 miles were maybe the best miles of my life.  This Grandma felt alive and confident and in the game! (And OK… a little tired, too!)

Now for the 45 min BIKE tomorrow?

Can I cycle with this bandage?  Shouldn’t I wait another day?  Or two?

Just kidding.