You try to gear yourself up for the big day, and you’re feeling like you’re almost there. You got the tights and the cape and you’re feeling like SuperWoman. But then someone rips your cape and the letter “S” just looks like squiggly art from a preschooler.
I was trying to get motivated for my big race tomorrow. I was trying to feel less anxious. I was listening to some jamming tunes to pump me up. I was feeling athletic like. I was feeling Bionic Woman like. But then there came Debbie Downer, finding some way to say something negative.
They mention the fact that the race starts at 7 a.m. SEVEN, which meant I needed to be there around 6:30 a.m. That meant I had to leave the house around 5:00 a.m., which meant I had to wake up around 4:30 a.m.
“You’re not really a morning person, you know.
Maybe you should’ve got a hotel room, close to the race.
You didn’t even tune-up your bike. You could get a flat tire along the way.”
“Yeah … I could get hit by lightning while swimming and then drown.”
I should really pay attention to the Caller ID. Just because the phone rings, doesn’t mean I should answer it. Especially the day before the race. I wish they had some sort of caller ID for person to person conversations too. I don’t know how that would work, but it would be awesome. MIT or Caltech people you should really get on that.
In any case I began feeling more anxious about my abilities. More deflated. I could feel the confidence slipping. I hadn’t trained as much as I would have liked, I could have done better. I wasn’t feeling as confident as My Warrior Dash.
But then I came across this message and it helped me gain some perspective.
Image via quotablecards.com
I am bad-ass and extraordinary in my own way.
Giddy up! 4:30 a.m. wake-up call here I come.
The Wish Factor 