This morning I woke up early, rolled out of bed, put on my running shoes and hit the pavement. It sucked. During the beginning of my run (with Lady Gaga pounding in my ears) I was thinking to myself "Why the hell am I doing this". I am going to have to get used to early morning work outs and days where I am doing one sport in the morning and then another when I get home from work. Again, it is going to suck.
And then suddenly I get this image in my head- and I start to run faster and my whole outlook changes. I see the finish line of the Eagleman 70.3 and I see my parents there cheering me on as well as a few friends and Phil...because obviously Phil is going to beat me to the finish line. Now in my thoughts I am running to the finish line feeling great with a smile on my face...in reality I may be crawling to the finish line on the brink of passing out. But that image kept me running for a few miles this morning.
My parents are my biggest supporters- they have seen me do a lot of things and they have not skipped a beat. They have seen me speed down a luge course, play volleyball, compete in a modeling competition, break my ankle during gymnastics practice, compete in diving competitions in college, and win the science fair in 7th grade. So other then my dad's comment of "You know you can't wear a life jacket during a triathlon, right Laur?!" they are supportive of this as well and I am sure they will be screaming at the finish line like they have been all my life.
This is me and the family in Disney world last year:
And then there is Phil. He is going to be training along side me and pushing me every step of the way. He balances me out pretty well- he tells me when I am acting like a brat, and offers encouragement when I am feeling frustrated. He was with me when I hurt my knee and he has been at the finish line (because he beats me every time) cheering me on once I was able to run again.
This is me and Phil after I pulled a huge boulder off the crag while rock climbing and it hit me in the leg last summer.