Can I get a refund?

No, seriously! The closer I get to Jan. 1, the more I am freaking out.  Freddy and I signed up for Ironman Boulder back in July, high on the accomplishments of our dear friends who had just rocked the Ironman in Coeur d'Alene and made it look like child's play. I remember sitting at the computer that morning feeling sick-knowing that once I pulled the trigger, life as I knew it was about to change. I thought I would have a year of getting in the best shape of my life. Plenty of time! Except now it's December and I'm no stronger now than I was then.

My friends Nancy, Daniela and I at the start of the Portland Marathon. Don't we all look pretty and fast? 

I am coming off a really bad, no, horribly awful Portland Marathon in October that has left me less than optimistic about my next marathon (which just happens to take place after a 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike ride). Going into Portland, I had been fighting some nagging tweaks including a nasty bout of piriformis syndrome that just would not go away. Like any good marathoner, I thought I was tougher than any silly little nag and convinced myself that if I ignored the pain it would go away. Well, on Oct. 6 during the Portland Marathon, high atop the lovely St. John's Bridge, my piriformis really kicked in. Those who really know me, know I'm a pretty tough cookie. While pacing the Denver Half Marathon in 2011, I felt a horrendous, stabbing pain in my leg at mile 11. Not one to be a pansy, I convinced myself it was just a nasty cramp and I limped to the finish line; shoving away every paramedic along the course who wanted to give me a ride in their fancy ambulance. When I woke up the next morning and almost fell flat on my face because I couldn't put any weight on my leg, I knew this was no cramp. I knew my leg was broken. I got up and went to work all day before facing my fate at ER (call it denial or dedication-whatever). 2013 was supposed to be my come-back year after my break. I did PR at the Garmin Land of Oz marathon in Kansas in April, so that was awesome. But I didn't really try, I just ran the pace that felt right. Portland was going to be it! Aside from my broken leg in 2011, I have never been in this much pain during a race. My mind and the rest of my body were strong and wanted desperately to run. My hips, however, would not move. Period. I slowed to a 20+ minute mile because I could only walk a few steps without having to stop and stretch. It was a horrible, intense pain and one that I refuse to go through again. So, needless to say, I will be incorporating a whole host of preventative measures for Boulder.

That's my friend Daniela, literally kicking my ass on the St. John's Bridge. We had a lovely 17 miles together until the pain in my ass had other ideas.....

I'm terrified. Absolutely, completely terrified of the Ironman. While each distance individually is totally do-able, putting it all together while fighting hunger, heat, exhaustion, and the ever ticking clock,  has me scared stiff. But, I love pushing my body beyond it's limits. I love fighting while every fiber of my being is telling me to stop and go have a frosty margarita and a nap.

So, from now until January, you will find me in the gym with some old lady weights in my hands, trying to bulk up so I can kick some serious tail in Boulder.