Sacrifices

I really enjoy football. As a little kid I had aspirations of playing in a Super Bowl. My friends and I would all dream about making an acrobatic game winning touchdown catch in the end zone or bursting up the middle for a 75-yard TD run. I played one season of organized football in eighth grade. I remember having to wear shoulder pads at my weigh-in to meet the minimum requirements. I never saw much game action, but I had a great time.

I will use a fast-forward and save the story of my high school football career for another day.

A handful of friends, ex-college classmates, et cetera gather every couple of weeks to play tackle football, without the pads. Even though I weigh more than 100 pounds now, I am one of the smaller players out there. But I can outrun them all. Every Super Bowl Sunday is the biggest game of the year for this motley crew. So this past Sunday it was a pretty nice winter day, and an even better day for football. The ground was pretty soft from the mild winter, but a fresh coating of snow would cushion the several unavoidable big hits I would have to take. The temps were probably in the 30s, with a little bit of wind. After running around a bit I would be warm and I could streak down the field in just thick Under Armour. So as game time approached I, alas, was nowhere near the field.

Last September I made a commitment. I understood the ramifications. I would need to be disciplined. I would need to manage my time better. I would need to be patient. I would need to make sacrifices.

We all make sacrifices. I will wake up a half hour earlier tomorrow to get to the pool. I will not eat Combos or drink beer this weekend. I will skip out on playing football with my friends.

Why? We have lofty expectations and big dreams. We are focused and determined. We have love and passion.

So on Sunday I went for a 45 minute run with my "IM training sisters." I barely missed playing football. I want to be an Ironman.