Thursday - Three days before the race

I woke up around 3:30 in the morning. That’s not a big surprise. The jet lag really hasn’t been that bad during the day. I feel awake and energized. Maybe it is just affecting me at night - I was just ready to roll, for some reason, before the sun was today. I didn't know I'd pay for that later in the day.

I read for awhile and then eventually got up. I made myself some toast, then put on my swimsuit. I decided it was finally time to test out the Mediterranean. Perfect timing, too, as I’d be getting into the water right around 6:30, the same time the race would start on Sunday.

It wasn’t even a 5 minute walk, and I was the only one there when I arrived. I didn’t think about that ahead of time. Was it a good idea to swim totally alone? I stalled for quite some time convincing myself that yes, if I am strong enough to swim for 2.4 miles, then I can swim 20 minutes by myself. Despite the fact that I kept telling myself that, I found myself just holding my wetsuit, not yet making that commitment of actually putting it on. I took comfort when I saw a boat nearby, knowing that if I needed help, I could flag them down, but then the boat sped right through the swim zone. Hmm... comfort withdrawn.

What luck! A man walked down the beach, swim cap in hand, and a few minutes later, his friend joined him. They were from S. Africa, so they spoke English. We chatted about the swim a little bit, as I finally squeezed into my wetsuit. They started their swim a little ahead of me, but I felt much better just knowing that I wasn’t the only swimmer out there.

The sea was definitely not calm. It took me a few minutes of watching the waves and learning their pattern before I felt comfortable jumping in. (I think that tomorrow, I need to practice going in and coming out a few times so that there is no stalling on Sunday.) Once in, I remembered the blog I read about the man who got his face stung by a jelly fish last year during the race. I wished I hadn’t remembered that. My mind started playing tricks on me that every sun-spot I saw was actually a jelly fish. With the swells rising and falling, I also swallowed my fair share of the sea. That's the point where I really knew just how much more salty it was than the Pacific.

I got out to the first buoy (the actual race buoys aren’t up yet) in about 7 and a half minutes. I continued on to make it an even 10. I decided to stop and just try to stop freaking out about irrational fears. I stopped, floated perfectly well, just took in the view around me, and calmed down. I felt like I had swum pretty far out, and it wasn’t even 10 minutes of swimming. I can’t imagine how far out those race buoys are going to be!

My swim back to the shore was much more comfortable. I had let go of thoughts of jellyfish, and just became a competent swimmer heading back. I know that come Sunday, I am going to just do it, whatever it takes, and not be slowed down by my dark imaginings. :-)

I sighted the wrong spot on shore for coming back in, so I ended up about 100 yards away from my towel. 100 yards isn't a big deal, except when you are walking on a rocky beach. Ow! No matter, it turned out fine. I passed a sign that indicated no swimming beyond the buoys. Oops.

I spent a little more time at the hotel, reading and resting. Carlo stopped by after his swim. He's the triathlete from Santa Clara who puts on the mermaid triathlons. That was the first time we actually met. Poor guy - he left his wetsuit and his triathlon license at home! He doesn't seem to worried about it, so I'm sure he's worked out a good solution.

He left, with plans for us to go to the expo after lunch. In the meantime, I put on my bike clothes and rode to the bike shop. In a mixed up conversation of English with a little French and Spanish, I managed to communicate my need for a tune up. I had to leave my bike there until 5 in the afternoon, so I walked the 1.5 miles back to my hotel, carrying my helmet, wearing my silver bike shoes. (Clunk, clunk, clunk...)

The next exciting part of the day was the expo. Carlo went off in search of solutions to his problems, and I got in line to register. I signed my life away on a form written in French, and they put an orange bracelet on my wrist that says ATHLETE 2008 with my race number (184). It's little things like this that make it feel so official and exciting! I received my transition bags, bibs, special needs bags, and gifts (a bento box and a backpack that say "Ironman France"). I ended this part of the adventure with a little shopping . Okay, actually it was a lot of shopping. (MO would be proud!)

Back at the hotel, as much as I tried to fight in so that I could sleep all night tonight, I gave into another nap. There was no stopping it!

Luckily, I only had time to sleep for an hour, because it quickly became time to go get my bike. I had to walk back to the bike shop in order to pick it up. The tune-up cost 35 Euros, which I think was a bargain for the piece of mind of knowing that nothing is going to fall apart after that plane ride.

Even though all of it was necessary, I had way too much activity today, and I'm tired. Tomorrow, my calendar calls for a 10 minute swim, a 10 minute bike, and a 10 minute run. Then, there is a pasta party/ athlete's meeting in the evening. Besides that, I plan on keeping my legs up and resting.

My mood is fluctuating every few minutes. I think it's best not to talk to the athletes. Some are encouraging, and others say things like, "This is your first ironman? Ironman France? What were you thinking?" It's also intimidating to hear that another athlete has done 10 or 11 ironman (they've actually lost count!?!?). I have to keep telling myself I am indeed ready for this. I've trained for it, and I can make it happen.