When last I wrote it was Saturday. Today it’s Sunday. Yesterday I was wrecked with the perilous decision, to race or not to race. Should I risk life and limb for the sake of my investment and pride or should I stay home and wallow in the safety of my large butt. I was teetering on the edge; the weight of the decision pressed heavily on my heart. I felt a strong need to compete and yet I also felt the persistent voice of reason that cried to compete in my current state would humiliate and possibly lead to some sort of paramedic rescue. I know I left everyone on the edge of their seat, and so without further ado I give you the conclusion to The Fat Lady Sings…


Me and my fat butt got ourselves to the start line! That’s right, I raced the race and I’m alive to tell the tale. It turns out that the course was so short I had nothing to fear. I nearly missed the race altogether as I got a late start, took a wrong turn and didn’t show up until 15 minutes after the gun shot had sent the first wave of swimmers into the water. Fortunately, there were 17 waves and I was in the 16th, so I made it to the start line just in the nick of time. I got to the beach and it was go time.

My performance wasn’t great, but I swam the swim, biked the bike and ran the run and tonight I am happy. I guess the moral of the story is get your fat butt out there and just do it! Just in case there are any doubters, here are my official results.