Dear Wildflower,
We've had some good times, you and I. I remember how things were in the beginning. You used to make me feel good about myself. You were so much more forgiving, more gentle, more tender.
After our first year, I could look towards the future and see you in it. Then, at year two, we had some rough times, but I thought I was strong enough to overcome the thorny patches. I came back--willingly--for more. But, my little poppy, I cannot come back anymore. When I look at you now, I only see defeat. I see your beauty and respect your power, but while your flowers once smelled like intoxicating nectar, now I only smell the bitter stench of wilting petals.
I came to you this weekend, wanting to give you my all. But you scorned me with 95 degree heat, with choppy water in your otherwise still lake, and with howling winds. I wanted to get inside of you, wildflower, but you wouldn't let me in.
Maybe I'm fickle, just like you. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. But Wildflower, you have stripped me of my pride. I need to walk away before I am barren of all sense of dignity. I'm sure you'll have others...far greater than me...and I hope they are strong enough to live up to your expectations.
Wildflower, I say good bye.
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4 comments:
I think it's for the best, Pam. I leave WF as well. Even though I sometimes think of what could have been a wonderful time, it never seems to work out that way. So much potential, but never giving us what we need.
I don't know about that...
I was really trying not to have expectations - at least trying to err on the side of optimism that my race couldn't possibly go as badly as it did last year.
And I surprised myself by improving my time and enjoying myself. I'm not certain I'll ever be "good" at triathlons, but at least I saw the bright side in this race.
That being said, I should confess in all fairness that I don't think I'll be doing Wildflower again either...I hate camping! (The only redeeming feature of camping at Wildflower is Brian's morning coffee...)
Let's face it, we all have delusions of gradeur. When (or if) we cross the finish line, the endorphins are still going, adrenealine still a bit high and our spirits lifted since the race is finally over....we think to ourselves, "Yeah...next year I can do better!". Fast forward nine months when it's cold and rainy outside and doing "better" at WF falls off the list of things to do for the weekend.
But as Annie says, it's about having a good time and not letting the race bitch slap you (even if it really does). After all, in 40 years when you tell your grandkids you used to be a a triathlete, they'll just be impressed that you actually *did* a triathlon.
Do you think the nectar is meant for you? ha!
I loved this post.
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