Looking forward from the depths of a cold.

So.
I'm sick.
Not the kind of sick that deserves any sympathy.
Just a miserable cold, or flu or something.

From this vantage point, shivering and feeling sorry for myself, I find it easy to look forward.

Ahead of me I see a third Ironman. A race where my run is not something that I just get through, but, part of the race that I actually race.

A race where the hills on the bike are no more challenging than the wind I see everyday on the prairies.

I'm looking at my limiters: speed, technique, climbing, body weight.

And balance. Always balance family and work and multisport.

I see this quite clearly.
But it could be the fever talking.