17 Weeks to Ironman - Rest Day

Welcome to all my new readers! I'm so excited to have you here. Just for your info, the first 3 entries in my archive are the last 3 races I've done: St. George Tri, Echo Tri and the St. George Marathon. In case you're interested. That way you can see what kind of a great athlete I am NOT.

Here is a post introducing the charity I'm trying to raise money for with this Ironman. It's called Against Malaria. Please take a minute to check that out.

A little while ago, I had a friend ask me how long I had until the Ironman, and I told her the number in weeks. She said, "That's like pregnancy counting!" We had to laugh a little at that, but now that I think about it, it is kind of like pregnancy counting. I can see a lot of similarities between the two. For both:

1. You feel excited and a little bit (or a lot, depending on the day) nervous. 
2. You have a certain amount of preparation that you want to get done, but if it doesn't get done, the day still comes.
   
3. You wonder if you're going to be able to do it.
4. You know that the day at the end of your countdown is going to be long and painful, but also very rewarding.
   
5. You know there is a chance that you might get hurt, but chances are pretty good that you'll be fine.

I don't want to say that doing an Ironman is even close to as amazing or wonderful or challenging as having children, but it seems I can always find some way to compare triathlons to life.  For all you mothers out there who are doing your best to raise children in this world, I salute you. You are wonderful and I think you deserve a trophy. 

But of course, we do get trophies don't we? When you see your little baby smile for the first time, or your 2-year-old hugs you so hard it makes you want to cry (but not from pain), or when your 4-year-old looks at you so sweet and says, "I love you, mom," or when your 6-year- old starts reading books by herself and starts to be a real help with the baby. (I don't have any kids older than this so I can't say what other trophies are awaiting in the teenage years - though the thought of that scares me to death!)

Just because it's not a tangible trophy, doesn't mean it's not real.

Today in Young Women's our lesson was "Attitudes about Our Divine Roles," and I cried through most of the lesson. This is probably why I'm thinking so much about motherhood right now. The teacher shared a poem with us that most of us have probably heard part of before. It was so beautiful, I'd like to share it with you now:

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow--
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

- by William Ross Wallace