I fucking did it
2002-03-03

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...speaking of marathons, today's was hard.

Damn hard.

An extra ten kilometers, the steepest climbs of Paree, a couple of descents that had people screaming.

I helped a man twice my size down one of them, leg muscles straining to hold him up.

The second one, I flew. I sailed. I dodged and skidded and people cheered me as I passed them, having waited for all ten thousand skaters to pass me so that I could have at it hard.

And I did it. Me. All by myself. Four sets of cobblestones, six steep climbs, lungs tearing for air, legs screaming nearly audibly, one bad fall and that's it.

I did it, and pulled my two beginners the last ten kilometres, after half the skaters quit. That's five thousand people who didn't make it to the end.

Today, there were health warnings, Pierrot with his microphone encouraging people to quit now, put on their shoes, and go home if they were tired because we were going uphill again.

Gods, I was tired, especially from skating back and forth along the 'thon, looking for Anna Maria and Guillaume when we lost them to bursts of speed.

But I did it. My strokes more powerful than they've ever been, not stopping once on the way up.

I did it.

I can program a mean unix socket, and I can skate a fucking 35 kilometres on six hours sleep and two granola bars.

In the sun, my face burned a shiny red despite the sunscreen.

Pulling and pushing and helping others.

My legs are shaking again, and I'm trembling with joy.

A new accomplishment. I am four sizes smaller than six months ago, tighter, stronger, my blood pressure's down and my morale is lost among the clouds somewhere.

I am a very proud monstre.

And in June, maybe I'll make the 50km national marathon. Maybe. Maybe I won't finish it. Maybe the race to Versailles in May too hard as well, but I sure as hell am going to try.

So this is what it feels like . Something else my father told me I could never do. Bad genes, he said. Never be athletic, he said.

Yeah, well, I tried, crashed, fell, got hurt, got up, and made it.

Thanks, dad. But *I* can do it, I don't care what you say.

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Last few Rants:

I guess this is goodbye. - 11:57 a.m. , 2005-02-10
Endorphins, stress, and magickal mystery - 5:07 p.m. , 2005-02-02
stress, incoming - 4:42 p.m. , 2005-01-28
heaving great happy sighs - 3:05 p.m. , 2005-01-24
Imposter syndrome strikes again - 1:20 p.m. , 2005-01-19