Win some more: Dropping below 185lbs for the first time in probably 15 years. Empty stomach and buck naked, I might even be 180. Booyah! Celebrated my healthy diagnosis and weight loss with several pints of Woodchuck and a serving of Fried Shepard's Pie. (Yes, fried!)
Lose some: I'm completely bummed out by the realization that after two years of triathlons, I'm barely out of the bottom 50% of competitors. And I'll likely never get a medal unless I hold out for another 25yrs and I'm one of three (or less!) competitors in my age group. Yeah yeah, I know I should be happy that I can finish. I should be pleased with my personal records. That I'm getting better every time. But it is a complete pisser to be beaten by guys doing their first triathlon and to see EVERYONE getting awards, except me. Hey, I'm super happy for them. They all trained hard and deserve their awards. But Ol' Jon trains pretty damn hard, and he'd like an award, too. Or a medal. Or just a pat on the back and a carton of cigarettes, "Smoke up, Johnny."
So I've got that clogging my head. Too many thoughts and recent disappointments. Everything co-mingling and completely sapping my strength. Giving me ideas like: "Why bother?"
And as the Woodchuck buzz wears off I remember how mad I used to be. Back when I wasn't happy.
But. This too shall pass.
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