My new goal (after a coffee date with my pal Barry Obama and a sub-4 marathon) (oh, and a job) is a half ironman: 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile ride and a half marathon.
I know three things: I can ride my bike 56 miles. I can most definitely run a half marathon. And swimming 1.2 miles might drown me.
Also a fourth: doing all of those things consecutively might kill me dead.
So, in conclusion: SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.
Pal Erin tells me I could absolutely be prepared for this feat by late summer. Perhaps she is correct. However, being the fiscally responsible adult I've had to become in the last four to six days, I've decided that, no, no I cannot do it.
Unfortunately these things cost money, a luxury I do not have at the present time. I'd need a wetsuit, which I've decided I'll purchase used. (Except we had an unfortunate discussion last night about the habits of many to pee in their wetsuits mid-swim, and do I want to enclose my body in a garment that has been peed in by a stranger?) (Answer: yes). (Because it's cheaper). (Thrifty!) Also, my bike could use a little tune-up, proper fitting and some aero-bars.
$ $ $ $ $
Money can go fuck itself.
Until, of course, I have some. And then it can grow and be prosperous and multiply in my bank account. A lot.
And so this is a goal I may set for next summer. And over the course of the next year and some months, I'll slooooowly begin accruing these things that I need.
I figure, I can be a drunk, a whore, or a drug addict, and blow my money on booze, sex and drugs, or I can buy a pissed-in wetsuit.
I see no debate on the topic.