During our third round of bicycle kicks at boot camp this morning, one of my pals said she was on the verge of complaining about how they wear her out when she remembered that her sister had biked over 100 miles and run another 18 the day before. I guessed correctly that my friend’s sister was training for an Ironman Triathlon.
As we transitioned to burpees and I reflected on the ridiculous amount of training it takes to prepare for an Ironman, I realized that race is one of those things I’d be thrilled to see on my “done” list, but I have no interest in actually doing it.
Long swims don’t faze me, I don’t mind the occasional long run, and I might even be willing to combine the two, but I refuse to supplement them with 120 miles on a bike. I’ve spent the better part of a decade trying to like cycling and I just can’t. I find it exhausting and boring.
Some people might have the same criticism about swimming, but at least in a pool you don’t have to worry that some yutz yelling “on your left!” will squeeze into the lone free inch between you and oncoming cyclists, forcing you to divert from the trail and into the nearest bush. Hypothetically. These thoughts and a hefty dose of realism have led me to remove “Do an Ironman” from my Bucket List and, stealing a page from our President, move it over to a different list, the one whose name rhymes with bucket.
Before boot camp ended, I came up with four other items that belong on my “rhymes with bucket” list:
- Install a floor in my home, all by myself. Plenty of people I know have learned how to tackle major home improvements on their own, so why shouldn’t I? I spent years telling myself I would do what it took –read books, watch YouTube videos or take a class at Home Depot– and I believed me because, when I sound all independent and empowered, I’m pretty darned persuasive. But I’ve shown up at Home Depot exactly twice, both times in search of weed-killers, and the only YouTube videos I’ve watched have involved plumbing. So unless it becomes chic to lay down a floor comprised entirely of duct tape, I’ll just plan to write checks in perpetuity.
- Go skydiving. Someone who falls as often as I do ought to be a natural at skydiving, right? And I’m sure I would be except for one thing: I really hate heights. I know that, as an adult, I have to force myself to do things I dislike sometimes, but launching yourself out of a properly functioning airplane is not one of them. Flossing, by contrast, is. So if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll skip the parachute and stick with the waxy thread instead.
- Swim the English Channel. Like the Tampa Bay Marathon Swim, this 21-mile swim features jellyfish and swells. Unlike the Tampa Bay Marathon Swim, it has water temps that range from the mid-50s to the mid-60s. It also costs upwards of $3400 for registration alone, and that doesn’t even include wetsuits because, whaddya know, they’re not allowed. After reading about it, I’ve concluded that swimming the English Channel doesn’t make you cool, it makes you hypothermic. Pass.
- Writing a bestseller. Hey, the prospect of writing a book that might be read by entire dozens of people is daunting enough, but hundreds of thousands? Who needs that kind of pressure? Then again, if I come up with the gumption to move any of those other three items back over to the Bucket List, that book just might write itself. Assuming I have any limbs left…
What’s on your list?