Post-partIM Depression

In the sad case that you haven't been fully consumed with my life for the past year that I've been airing it out for all the world to see, shame on you. You probably think the world revolves around you, don't you? Well you're wrong. Wrong, I say!! It's about me! ME ME ME ME!!

[cue stomping feet]
[cue puffed-out lower lip like my 3 year old niece does when she's angry]

So why don't we take a second here and review the past year's events for the people who haven't been paying attention. First, let me thwack this yardstick onto your knuckles so we make sure you're awake. [THWACK!!!!]

OK... this year-in-review shant take very long. In fact, it can probably be summed up in two bullet points:

* I trained incessantly for 8 months
* I completed my first Ironman in July

Yep, that's about the all of it. For eight months I was solely focused on finishing an Ironman. Every exercising moment was about going those 140.6 miles. And I did it. Yay me.

So.... now what?

Suddenly I have an extra 20 hours in my week and I'm not sure I know what to do with them. Truth be told, I miss Ironman training. In retrospect, it was a major driving force in my life for 8 months. Sure I was driven by work (as always) and my relationship with Catherine, but there was always an undercurrent of Ironman.

Ironman training is all consuming. Between the time commitment, the energy drain and the physical pain, it ain't easy. Truth be told, it requires a lot of focus. What with all the other things in life that us normal people need to focus on, it can easily suck the vigor out of you before you even knew you were vigorous. But you plug through it all, day after day. There is no question about whether you continue forward or not - you just do it. Training becomes ingrained into your daily life, like brushing your teeth, but it lasts much longer than that damn Oral B timer (which, I swear, drags on for a helluva lot longer than 2 minutes.)

Ironman training tells you when to wake up, when to eat and when to go to sleep. At times it'll exhilirate you beyond belief and other times it'll strip you of your self-pride until you feel as if you're standing buck-naked in a crowded mall. It lets you know if you can go out at night and pretty much determines how often you do laundry. Ironman training is controlling. I guess in a way it is like your mother when you were a kid, complete with the Jewish guilt and the "you'll do it because I said so" attitude.

To follow this painfully horrific analogy through, post-Ironman would be like finally living on your own. You've graduated Ironman, now get the hell out of the house and do something with your life before your father comes home and beats the crap out of you.

And though I remember repeatedly uttering such phrases as "I can't wait to get my life back" and "make the bad man stop," I secretly enjoyed the training. I miss it.

I guess there's a part of me that just wants to move back home and have mom take care of me again. But alas, as my good buddy Corinthian once said, When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child; Now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things.

I suppose that means I need to find a new hobby.
Maybe I'll start a blog.