by klassman

My eldest daughter has a strong faith and eagerly devours information about religion. In a few weeks, she will take part in the sacrament of Communion.  I know how important it is to her and what an important day it is in her development as a part of the Church.  It will be her special day with a new dress, family and friends watching attentively, special prayers and weeks of practice to prepare for the event.  She loves her school and I know she is surrounded by love there. (There is my endorsement of contemporary Catholic schools.)

A teacher recently commented on this gift of faith and I smiled politely but immediately thought of a million life experiences for which I’d like to provide protection for her.  It is a strange mental leap.  From a positive and affirming compliment about something real straight to adversity that is imagined or only in the future.  But there you have it — a snapshot inside my head.  No wonder teachers prefer talking to their students instead of the parents.  The crazy is bite-sized instead of full blown.

Perhaps it was only a mental shorthand.  You know Internets, like Augustine, “Doubt is but another element of faith.”  And doubt lives in the shadows, feeds on ignorance and can blossom into genuine anguish.

I’d like to have the same faith in my training plan.  Trust the plan, that is what Ironman veterans say.  Trust the plan.

I’m following the plan — mostly.  I miss workouts each week.  But I’m making my way through it.  I’m getting stronger and slowly, slowly slimming down.  I’m learning more about how my body reacts to the stresses and rigors of long form training and ultimately, the training will shift into more race specific activities.  I’m eager for then next 19 weeks to pass and for the experiences that they will bring.

And yet, I harbor the doubts.  Damn those doubts.  It is time to take a page from the seven year old in my life.  More faith.  Keep faith with the plan.  Tomorrow brings two new workouts and two more on Wednesday and day by day, I’ll get there.

I’ll be ready, a communion of mind, body and the plan.