Oh, and I forgot to mention that by the time I got home yesterday the power had already been restored in my neighborhood. Thanks for all your concern. It didn’t take the five days that they were expecting on the high end here, but I guess they’re still saying days for some neighborhoods around me that don’t have power.

Apparantly, there were two F2 category tornados that touched down in the area Wednesday night - one in a suburb just a few miles north and one just a few miles east. Here are some pictures of the damage that was done. I can’t believe that this was right in my backyard! I’m considering myself very, very lucky!

Since when do computers start needing this ATX12V connector for things to work correctly? I’ve been having issues with my motherboard recently dying a slow death. So I stopped at the computer store yesterday and picked up a replacement. I get home, plug everything in, and get no video. I figured I had something loose or connected wrong, so I start unplugging various things to see if that’s causing the problem. About an hour later, I’m down to just the power supply, video card, and RAM and it still won’t boot. So I haul my butt back to the computer store and explain, using my vast computer knowledge, why I believe they gave me a faulty motherboard. Pretty much the first thing the guy says to me is “You did use this plug, yes?” pointing to the plug above. “Ummm, no.” Both of the guys behind the counter give me a look as if to say are you sure you’ve done this before/are you on drugs? I had never seen that plug on any of my other boards before. Maybe it’s not “new” but I haven’t built a computer from scratch in years, so it’s new to me. I asked him to hook it up to their test system there to make sure that the board isn’t faulty and sure enough it works. I drive home feeling like an idiot.

A fairly big storm rolled through last night. Around 7 PM, the sky started turning real dark and the winds started kicking up something fierce. I flipped on the news and they said that the conditions were just about perfect for a tornado touchdown right near my suburb. The way the winds were blowing, I would have thought that one had touched down already! Soon after, I lost power (which didn’t return for the whole night). After things calmed down a bit, I went over to my fianceé’s place to see what the situation was like over there. There wasn’t as much damage, but there was no power at her place either. In fact, the entire stretch of land from my house to her house was also out of power. I don’t know how extensive the power outage was last night, but it covered the seven or eight suburbs that I drove through to get to her place. That’s a pretty eerie feeling - no street lights, no traffic lights, no house lights. Just pitch black with trees and other debris on the roads for miles.

According to news sites, it looks like the power is still out in my neighborhood and the power company is saying now that it could be out for one to five days?! Ugh. They’re still not sure if a tornado touched down last night or what. There are folks from the National Weather Service coming out later today to look at the damage pattern to see what exactly came through our area.

And still, this doesn’t even hold a candle to the damage caused by Katrina and possibly what is to come from Rita. I can’t even imagine…

I’ll preface this post by saying that just because someone doesn’t choose to do an Ironman doesn’t diminish their worth or value as a (tri)athlete. And I say that with all honesty. Certainly, there are far more important and larger things in life than to devote your time and efforts to training for an Ironman. But TriMama’s post got me thinking and I wanted to share my thoughts on the whole thing and why I made the decision to take the challenge.

For me, Ironman always seemed like an impossible feat. When I first heard about an Ironman triathlon back in high school, I thought that the folks that competed in that sort of event were nuts. I was always pretty active as a kid, playing competitive basketball and soccer growing up. In high school, I was on the varsity water polo, wrestling, and swimming teams. But the compared to Ironman, my sports seemed laughable. Lets face it - swimming or running for a couple hours for practice is a mere warm up to what these Ironman folks do day in and day out. And we’re just talking about training here - forget the actual race itself as there is no comparison. College was largely the same. I swam competitively for a couple of years there too, but never got in any kind of shape where I could have thought about doing an Ironman. Ironman was the ultimate endurance event. There was nothing more challenging out there at the time than having to race 140.6 miles in a single day.

And it being “impossible” was the real draw to it, I guess. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the intangible that makes me want it even more. I suppose that’s why telling kids “no” always makes their desire to do that particular thing even greater. It’s the whole forbidden fruit idea or something like that. I viewed Ironman as the ultimate endurance event that only the super athletic could accomplish. Sure, there are now double and triple Irondistance races, but something about those being multiples of “the distance” make it seem like an Ironman is the gold standard by which things are measured. I was proud of my athletic background. But just participating in sports, it seemed that something was lacking. I wanted more.

Some eight or nine years later, I decided to go for it. I had a couple friends that had done it. They assured me that Ironman was “just a distance” and the feat wasn’t insurmountable if you were willing to put in the training. And so I decided to jump in head first into this whole triathlon thing. I will say that while training for one of these things, you really learn a lot about yourself. As you push your body to go places it has never been before, not only do you see your body and mind physically improve from week to week, you also see some of the nastiest parts of you come out and you (and unfortunately, those around you) are brought face to face with things you probably didn’t know existed inside of you. I’m talking about those days where you’re already bruised and beaten up and you have a training plan that doesn’t care and gives you a seven hour brick to get done anyway. Days where you’re just flat out tired and cranky, and you feel like the entire world is against you and your goals. I don’t know about you, but for me, that really brings out the worst in me. Heh. One of the reasons that I know that my fiancee and I are going to make it is that she’s seen me like that and loves me regardless. That’s love, I tell you!

But I digress… in some sick way, that place of utter exhaustion is a place that I’d say that triathletes secretly love. At least I sort of relish in this suffering. Maybe not the moment itself, but knowing that if I can make it through whatever happens to be attempting to crush my spirits at that time, that when I come out the other side I’m going to be a changed person because of it. Stronger and faster, both mentally and physically. I think about last Sunday and cramping on that bike and going into that dark place. But when I’m there, I think about times like this and this and know that I’ve been to this place before and I’ve pulled through. And in the future, when I return to that dark place, last Sunday will be another bullet in my chamber to shoot down the demons who say “you can’t”. Suffering forces you on that point where you’re forced to make a choice. Tuck your tail between your legs and accept defeat, or look your adversaries in the eye and show them who you really are and what you’re really made of, knowing that afterwards you’re going to come out better, stronger, and more refined. This, my friends, is the heart of Ironman.

And sure, at the end of it there’s the “Ironman club”. It’s comprised of all those folks that have crossed that magical finish line. Regardless if they’re a Kona world champion or if they’re struggling to make the 17 hour cutoff, they’ve taken the same strokes, pedals, and strides that you’ve taken to get there. There’s an odd understanding that is shared between finishers. Sure, they all have different lives and different athletic and personal backgrounds, but all have done a considerable amount of work to just get to that start line. Everyone who was racing out there last Sunday immediately knows first hand the kind of suffering that the course brought out that day and that alone has instantly brought two thousand strangers a little closer together. And maybe this is just me, but if I see someone else wearing an Ironman finishers t-shirt or that has an M-Dot tattoo stamped proudly on their leg, I feel oddly connected to that person knowing that he/she has shared an experience that so few on this whole earth have had.

Why Ironman? I don’t think there is a simple answer to that question or one that is all encompassing. But that’s at least part of the “why” for me.

My friend called this afternoon while he was driving back to Minneapolis from Chicago. He heard on the radio that the temperature at Madison today is 76 degrees with 6 MPH winds. It figures. :P

A couple of pics from the Wisconsin course that I found this morning…

I love this picture of the swim!

This climb seems to go on forever!

Get up that hill!

His face says it all…

And some pictures of the post race Ironman swag (and medal as requested by Shelley):

They gave us a little bag, finisher hat, wristband, and sticker this year in addition to the t-shirt and medal.

12+ hours of work for this?! :)

A very big THANK YOU! to everyone that took the time to read my very long race report and send your congratulations my way. It’s very touching to hear from all of you and amazing to have such support from folks that I’ve never even met. The power of the Internet, I tell you!

Normal life is slowly falling back into place. Four days later, and I’m still a little sore although walking considerably better than I was on Monday or Tuesday. I don’t look at stairs and street curbs anymore wondering how on God’s good earth I’m going to make it all the way down there. I did have some pretty bad ITB pain in my right leg for those first two days, but the swelling must have gone down because it’s not there anymore. I’m still icing and I’m going to stretch when my muscles aren’t sore, but I won’t be running for at least a couple weeks. I don’t want to mess around with nasty ITB pain for months like I did last fall/winter.

I’m sure some of you have seen this over at Flatman’s blog, but here is a link to me finishing last Sunday. I’m happy that they offered that this year - for whatever reason, they didn’t have it last year. I still haven’t figured out how to save just that clip to my computer (the burn to CD thing didn’t work for me, Com). I’d like to keep it for nostalgia. So if anyone knows how to make this happen, I’m all ears!

That’s about it. I think I may return to the pool as early as next week. Maybe back onto the bike the week after that? We’ll see how the legs feel, I guess.

Thanks again everyone for your comments and support! It really means a lot to me. :)

Well, I made it. It wasn’t pretty, but despite “challenging conditions” and a race where most course veterans went slower, I managed to still I cut a handful of minutes off last year’s time and moved up the rankings by several hundred places. Without further ado, here’s the race report.

Pre-Race:

For the entire day before the race and the morning of, I couldn’t help but have in the back of my mind “this is going to suck”. Yeah, I know us triathletes are supposed to be full of positive energy and carry an endure all attitude. But I’m just being honest here. :) With Kona-like heat (as later confirmed by some athletes that have been there), this wasn’t going to be a standard Wisconsin fall day.

The morning started off with my incredibly healthy breakfast of two bowls of Basic 4 cereal and two Krispy Kreme donuts. Yeah, most people wouldn’t call that race fuel, but I needed calories in my belly that wouldn’t sit heavy in my stomach. Plus, my body really does seem to respond well to fat for whatever reason and it there was plenty of time before the race to digest.

When we got to the race site, it was already bustling with folks making last minute additions to their transition bags and pumping up their tires. I brought my own pump because the lines to have your tires pumped up by the folks there are always horrendously long. That inevitably means that everyone in a 10 foot radius around you says, “Dude, can I use your pump?” Whatever. I had to put my extra water bottle cage on (giving me four bottles - two of a 1200 calorie CarboPro mixture and two for water) anyway.

With the tires pumped and my transition bags all ready, all that was left was to don our wetsuits and head down to the swim start.

The Swim:

I positioned myself forward and to the left, giving me a pretty straight line to the first buoy. I really wanted to break an hour on the swim so I figured the less I had to swim distance wise, the better my chances. Wisconsin is an in-water start so you sort of tread water (well, just kick back and float with a wetsuit) until the cannon goes off. Right before the start, there was a helicopter that flew overhead that must have been a filming crew of some sort. That was awesome! How many times do you participate in something that requires helicopter coverage?!

BOOM! The cannon goes off and the washing machine begins. Actually, compared to last year, I didn’t think the swim was all that rough. I did start a little more steady than last year, so that probably helped me to have some clean water. But I throttled back sometime in the first length because I didn’t want to toast myself a few hundred yards from the start line. I swam pretty steady and fairly straight. I got kicked in the jaw twice, but that was half my own doing trying to pass someone without giving myself enough space.

The lake felt a little too warm for my liking. The water temperature was 74 degrees and I have a full sleeve wetsuit. I also have a tendency to overheat while swimming, so every 50-100 yards I’d take the top of my wetsuit (I have a two piece design) and flap the bottom of it to get some water inside to cool me off. That helped considerably although probably didn’t do good things for my time. Oh well, how many seconds could it really cost? Maybe 23? ;)

The lengths of the swim always seem really far. I mean, yeah it’s 2.4 miles in total, but the length of the rectangle seem to go on FOREVER! I kept thinking to myself, “Oh, we must turn here at this big orange buoy up ahead.” Nope. Not yet. Like every orange buoy I found myself saying that. Put I kept paddling along and finally I found myself turning the last corner and approaching the finish. As I was swimming towards the ramp, I took a look at the clock that was next to it and saw it tick from 0:59:59 to 1:00:00. !@#$%@ Oh well. Close enough. ;) Time: 1:00:22 - 1:35/100m pace.

T1:

The wetsuit peelers were awesome. They quickly got my wetsuit off me and managed to keep my tri bottoms on at the same time. I “quickly” ran up the Monona Terrace helix and I was inside to grab my transition bag and head to the changing area. One of the good things about being a fishie at Ironman is that there are plenty of people in the changing tent to help you out; you get the royal treatment. There was a volunteer working the changing tent that dumped out my stuff from my transition bag and placed everything very neatly on the floor so I could grab everything. After I was fully dressed and on my way to get my bike, there are volunteers out there calling out numbers of the athletes coming in while other volunteers further down the bike area go and grab your bike for you. Pretty slick. Ironman volunteers rock! Time: 7.22.

(P.S. Thanks for the T1 picture TriMama!)

The Bike:

It was a fairly comfortable temperature at the start of the bike leg. Still, I reminded myself that it was going to be a long day and to start out slowly. Or at least what felt slow? I was cruising nice and easy for the first hour or two. I don’t remember when it happen but I heard a ping followed by a thud. I didn’t hit anything but a quick check of my gear and I noticed that one of my bottles of CarboPro hit the ground. !@#$% That’s not good.

I should really go back and pick that up.

No, you can’t, you’ll lose time!

But I’m going to lose more time if I can’t eat. (A minute later…) I should really stop, go back, and pick that up.

No, you can’t. You’ll lose time!

Ok, but if I DNF, it’s your fault.

Ugh. So much for my planned day of nutrition. Later in the evening, I’d find out that my entire water bottle cage fell off. The welds just completely broke away on that cage and the cage on my left side also broke, but was at least still somewhat usable for the last couple hours of the bike. And these were brand new cages that I put on just a couple weeks before the race! Grrrr… the manufacturer is going to gear an earful!

But I digress! Onto plan B which I made up as I rode to the next aid station. It’d be Gu’s and Gatorade for me for fuel I guess. I never take any gels or plain Gatorade with me on my rides, but one of my better strengths is my cast iron stomach. It seems to be able to take whatever I give it without too much GI distress so I just went with it. What other option did I have, really?

The climbs actually weren’t as bad as I remembered them being for whatever reason. Maybe I’m a little stronger this year or perhaps it was just the power of the amazing 12-27 cassette? By the way, that cassette was totally AWESOME for this course. By far, it was the best investment I made in equipment this year. If you’re thinking about doing Wisconsin, I highly recommend whatever bailout gear you can put on your bike. Big cogs, compact cranks. I can almost guarantee that if you have it, you’ll use it over the period of the course. Hell, I’d have used a triple ring if I had one. :P But again, I digress. The climbs were covered with people on both sides. They were cheering and screaming like mad. And as you approached the top of one of the climbs, the road narrowed bordered by spectators in Tour de France like fashion. It was totally awesome! Ironspectators come in at a VERY close second to Ironvolunteers. Both are absolutely essential in making the race what it is.

Fairly soon after the climbs, you hit Verona where the crowds again were in full force. The streets were packed with folks on both sides cheering and making noise. It’s such a nice motivational lift after riding for hours with virtually nobody around. I checked my bike computer and saw that I had averaged either 19.3 or 19.5 MPH up to that point (I don’t remember exactly which). That speed was fast for me, but not too fast taking into account a full taper and aero gear. Alas all good things must come to an end. Verona isn’t that long of a town and before I knew it I was back alone on the road. And that’s when things got ugly.

I estimate around mile 70-80, I hit a bad patch. I mean like nasty, dizzy, cramping, I-want-to-DNF type patch. Alone on the bike course, your options are really limited on who you can lean on for support. So I went straight to the Man upstairs. We chatted for a few minutes and we got my nutrition back on track. A few salt tables, some water, fuel, and about a thousand “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” later, I started to pull through the patch. I really owe Him one here.

The last 20 miles or so of the bike was with the wind (finally! it had felt like I was fighting a headwind that entire second loop)! I was feeling considerably better, but still cautious and I didn’t want to start cramping again by pushing too hard. About an hour later, I was approaching T2. In my opinion, there are two great moments in an Ironman. The first obviously, is the finishers chute. The second is seeing the transition area after riding 112 miles. Monona Terrace was sure a sight for sore eyes. Time: 5:56:47 - 18.83 MPH.

T2:

This ended up being a little more crowded than T1. But soon after I dumped my stuff on the ground, there was someone was there to help me sort things out. I decided this year to go with a fresh pair of socks. I took my old ones off and went to put on my new pair. Cramp. @#$! that hurt! I waited a few seconds. “Lets try that again.” Cramp. Ugh. But the third time was a charm and I got both my socks and shoes on and headed out the gate. Time: 4:12.

The Run:

By now, it’s hot. I mean Africa hot.

The faster you move, the sooner you’ll be done.

Can you shut up here and let me run? You sit up there in my ice cooled skull giving me pointers. I don’t need your advice right now. Quit being a back seat driver and find some way up there to grow me a new pair of legs or something!

The first few miles went ok. I think I split something like 8:30, then 9:10… then 9:30? Then I started bouncing all over the place. 11 something, 9 something, 10 something. But I was still moving and for the first lap I had no signs of injury or anything which made my happy. I saw TriMama and her crew out there. I wish I could have mustered more than my weak smile and wave that I gave, but that was about all I had at the time. Sorry TriMama and crew! You guys were really awesome and while my actions may not have shown it, my pace definitely picked up after passing through your aid station. So a very big thank you for that! :)

I kept plodding. But I could feel myself getting more and more dehydrated and the cramps were ever present. Around mile 10, I pretty much had had it. I just flat out didn’t want to be out there anymore.

Come on. Just three more miles and you’re half way there!

Great. Half way. If the first and second best things about the Ironman are the finishers chute and the end of the bike respectively, by far the worst thing is coming approaching the finish line knowing that you have to run forgo it and go back out to endure another 13.1 miles of suffering.

For the second lap, there was considerably more walking. I was just plain tired. My run strategy changed from run to run until your calves start cramping, walk, and then run again when you feel like it. :P Pretty depressing strategy, eh? As I was walking on my second loop, I stopped to chat with a girl that was walking close to the same pace as me. Now, I talked to maybe… three different strangers while I was out there on the run course. This girl was one.

“Tough day out here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

(Pause as we stare at each other for a couple seconds… and in unison.)

“Why do you look so familiar??!”

As it turns out, this “stranger” actually was someone that was in my graduating class and that was a teammate of mine during my swimming days in college. How random is that? Of the thousands of folks out there, I randomly picked one who was part of just 30 of us or so that were the team. Until that day, we hadn’t seen each other in nine years. Crazy! We chatted for a bit. This was her first Ironman, but she had already signed up to do Lake Placid next year. Now she was having second thoughts. We chatted a bit more before I wished her good luck as I started another stretch of running.

About half way on the second loop, I start doing Ironmath. I calculated that if I wanted to suck it up and try and run 10 minute miles for the rest of the run, I could probably crack 12 hours. About 0.00015486 seconds later, I decide it wasn’t worth it and I didn’t care that much to have to endure that much pain. The new goal is to beat last years time. That still gives me some nice walking breaks but will still involve some running. Sounds like a fair trade off.

4 miles, 3 miles, 2 miles. Finally, we’re down to a mile left to go. Just a mile, but at the end of an Ironman that mile feels like it’s across the planet. But sure enough, I made it back to the capitol and got to be carried down the finishers chute purely by the energy of the cheering fans. If you’ve never experienced an Ironman at all, it truly is something special. If you’ve experienced it as a spectator, you have a small idea of what it must feel like knowing that those cheers are for you as you make your way down the chute. It makes the pain (almost) worth it. ;) Time: 5:05:31.

“You’re an Ironman!”

Summary and The Carnage:

“I’ve never seen so many DNF’s so early in the race,” said Marc Roy, the timer of today’s events.

Since he’s been timing Ironman events for close to a decade, that’s scary to hear!

I don’t know if my prediction of record DNF rates were seen on race day, but there was carnage all over the streets of Madison yesterday. I’d find out later that evening that one of my neighbors that I train with didn’t make it. Around mile 12 he stopped to sit in the shade and massage out some cramps. He woke up later to find himself on a gurney. The next morning, I’d check the results to find that my swimming friend didn’t make it either. I’m not sure what happened, but saw that she DNF’ed. The entire run course was filled with sirens blaring in the background. I don’t know how many ambulances I saw that day, but it seemed like everywhere I turned one was there. And I’m sure there are many more stories of folks who DNF’ed. Real people with real feelings and many folks who put in the time and training, but just didn’t have things go their way come race day. On any other weekend, they’d have likely made it. But the course was just exceptionally brutal that particular day. This was the first North American Ironman where the winning time was over 9 hours. If the pros have trouble getting it done, I guess it must be tough.

Ok, enough of the scary talk. Back to the positive. My final time was 12:14:14. I ended up more less being right on target with my swim and bike. The run was well… the run. I ended up with a PR, cutting 7 minutes off last years time (but really only 3 minutes if you consider last years time included a 4 minute mystery penalty) despite extra challenging race conditions. If my description hasn’t been enough indicating how hard it was, my seven minute faster time this year moved me up over 300 places over last year’s ranking. I ended up finishing 303 overall. I’m actually pretty happy with that. 303 out of 2200 or so athletes isn’t too shabby if I don’t say so, myself. :)

Looking towards next year, I think I may need a break. My first year, I remember saying on my run that I never need to do another one of these again. But a few months later, I had an itch that needed to get scratched. This year on the run course, I said the same thing. “I never need to do another one of these again.” Besides, Wisconsin isn’t a practical option for me next year with the wedding and all (but I will be out there cheering for you participants - right, Wil?). Still, that gives me another couple months before Florida registrations starts. Maybe by then I’ll have developed another itch that needs to be scratched. ;)

We made it back earlier this evening. Despite Wisconsin’s attempt of death via boring drive, I managed to survive. I’m still hobbling around. Stairs and curbs have presented quite the challenge for the past two days. I have a whole new appreciation for handicap ramps.

I see that by the time I made it back home, Wisconsin registration had already filled!! And in less than seven hours! If that doesn’t speak to how great the race is, I don’t know what does. I mean, who else would voluntarily travel to Wisconsin for ANYTHING?! Madison isn’t exactly the next tourist hot bed. Best of luck to the 2006 participants!

I think I’ve pieced together most of my race report. I should have it up later today. Thank you guys so much for all your comments and support! I promise to catch up with all of you (who have let me know you’ve been here or otherwise emailed me) soon!

Well, despite my hopes that some kind of cold front would pass through the area and cool things down, it looks like that’s not going to be the case. Wandering through Ironman village today, it hit me that it’s going to be hot out tomorrow. I mean, nasty, meltdown, cramping like hot. Oh, and reasonably windy too with gusts up to 25 MPH?! I remember spectating in 2003 where the temperatures were probably very much what it’s going to be like tomorrow. I remember seeing the pain on people’s faces and thinking to myself that I never need to do one of these races. Ever. Despite an average temperatures in the mid 70s, this will be the third straight year of an unusually hot weekend.

I’ve done the training. I’ve trained in hotter weather than what I’ll see tomorrow. But I’m not throwing out a challenge to the course to “bring it” tomorrow. On the contrary, tomorrow those folks who show patience early in the race and prepare for the inevitable oven that will be the run course in the afternoon will succeed. Sometimes, you need a little more brain than brawn and tomorrow will be one of those days. Tomorrow, pacing and nutrition are going to be the keys to the race and finishing upright. Mark my words… I think we’re going to see record DNF rates.

I’m a little nervous, but I don’t know many folks who wouldn’t be on the eve of an Ironman. In around 12 hours, I should be in T1 sometime and in 24 hours, if all goes well, I should have a finishers metal around my neck. But I shouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch. There’s a whole lot of work that needs to get done before then.

For those following along at home, you can follow me using this link.

Thanks again for all your prayers and support. I hope to see you on the other side.

The Edge

Here at the edge of it I must remind myself that there are things that I have learned, things that have not come easily – things for which I went hunting, for which I have sacrificed, and which will not abandon me. I have nothing to fear on this side of it, and knowing this, I will be ready.

By 6:00 a.m. I have swum the three miles that many will never even walk in their lifetimes. I have known what it is to stand at the foot of a monolith race, quiver at the sight of it, and then kneel before it to pick up my axe. I have steadied my hands and fixed my focus, and I have swung like hell until it all came tumbling down. Then, still quivering, I have walked over the rubble of it, and wept for much more than the accomplishment.

Of the elements, there is no weather that has hindered my forward progress. There is only the kind that has fired and hardened my will - only the kind that has inspired the rebellious and insubordinate child inside of me. I have spit in the face of the rain and I have lit up the sky with a mile of curses and defiant speeches, and for it, I have been drenched until my soul dripped. But I have kept on pedaling. I have nothing to fear on this side of it, and knowing all of this, I will be ready.

Finally, I understand that there is nothing still until I have heard 4,000 foot-falls, and that after so long it is not my legs that will carry me. Time and time again I have been reborn in the smiles that I have received. And with every understood thank you that I have delivered because it was all that I could do to breathe, I have cultivated a faith in humanity. I will succeed because I have come too far. I have worked too hard, and because I have no choice, as I have burned the bridge leading back to all that I used to be.

On occasion I have crossed the threshold of my potential, and standing there, have seen ten-thousand places where I have not yet been. Therefore, I will not look back. I will not question and I will not doubt. I have nothing to fear on this side of it, and here again at the edge of it I will take a deep breath, and I will go forward.

For reminded of all of this, I know that I am ready.

Iron Wil - Through The Wall