Last week I lost a scavenger hunt.  Well, some employee at Parrot Jungle lost it for me because instead of running around the park as the organizers @Hispanicize intended, I found a well-meaning teenager who could give me the answers.  We had about twelve questions to answer and one photo to take.  The teenager answered ten, Joe the boys and I got the other two, while some dude took our picture.   We ran back in record speed to our assigned meeting place.  It was Memorial Day weekend in Miami; it was HOT and I was dripping in sweat but content to have won.  The boys were ecstatic and Joe, in all fairness, was a good sport but couldn’t care less.

Then the other family arrived and the person in charge of our hunt reviews the answers.  It is not over until we know all the answers were correct.  They kept us in a cliff hanging suspense for about fifteen minutes while the other teams who played the game as intended returned to our base.  I overheared one of the organizers that one of the questions was incorrect and I had a feeling it was one of ours.   After all, didn’t I put all of our eggs on one teenager’s basket? And one carrying a Macaw to boot!

Once again, worried about my boys losing I ask the organizer if we could get them some extra tattoos or a poster or something because they tried so hard and would be so disappointed.  He, in a very friendly and respectful way said something like “so kids must be rewarded no matter what … if they win or lose?” If he didn’t say that, he said something similar to that, or that is what I understood and my reaction was “shame on me”.  Did I not learn anything from my own post about winning and losing?  You can read it here.

And then I turn the finger on me and maybe the one who is afraid of failure is me.  Ok, not maybe … I know I am afraid of failing even if I have had many failures in my life.  But my failures in adulthood have more to do with “you win some you lose some” situations. Oh well, you can’t make it to the podium in every triathlon.  Oh well, they don’t make that car in the color I like.  These are different than venturing into unknown territory and sticking my neck out for something.  I’d rather fight where the odds are good.  I play blackjack, not roulette.  But what do I want to teach my kids?  To try hard only when there is a good chance of winning or to go all out?I heard this poem the other day and it got me thinking:Life should not be a journey to the gravewith the intention of arriving safely,in an attractive and well preserved body.But rather to skid in sideways,body thoroughly used up,totally worn outscreaming “woo hoo” what a ride.

In general I don’t like rides and I don’t like rollercoasters.  Give me predictability, rules and order and I tend to work well within that framework so here is one big step in venturing into unknown territory.

I want to do an Ironman.  And I want to do it on a November weekend in Panama City, Florida in 2013.  Did I really just write that?  I guess I did.

As of today, I am totally unprepared: physically, emotionally and financially.  There are many costs that go above and beyond dollars such as the toll on my family, the toll on me, the actual riding a bike outside of my house (you can read what I am talking about here). Before I finalize the paragraph I almost talk myself out of it. But I must remember the skid.  I want not only to skid, but I want to skid sideways.  And yes, I could credit card a new bike, and credit card the race costs but the mom in me feels like those resources should go to my kids.  If I am going to follow this pipe dream, I am going to work for it.  And if I fail, my hope would be to fail epically but have my kids watch me pick myself back up.  I want to try.

And if you want to follow my journey to Panama City, Florida … come visit me at this new blog: www.triathlonmami.blogspot.com.  My journey is not just as a triathlete but as a mom, wife, teacher, Latina and all the other roles I play (and that I know you play too).  So please click now and become a follower and help me get closer to being an IronWOman (I can’t help it, my Wellesley education won’t let me leave it at Ironman).

I am learning that if you are going to stick your neck out, then you have to work to not get it chopped off.  To get to the Ironman competition I must train.  To finance it, I must write.   To be happy in the process, I must be open to risk.  No one can do it for me.  So maybe the lesson to my kids today is that next time, to have a chance of winning the scavenger hunt, we shouldn’t rely on random teenagers but do it ourselves.