I rubbed my body marks off in the shower.

I have never done that before. I have always left them to fade, so that for a few days I can catch sight of myself in the mirror and smile, or see the number on my hand when I look at my watch.

Today I do not want to see them. I could not get all of the ink off. They are there, as if done with a cutting quill, nothing more than a painful reminder.

I think I want them off because if someone sees it and asks, I will just start to cry. Weighed, measured, left wanting.

I break away from my wave quickly. There is one other girl near me, no way, get behind me where you belong. I pull my way into her hip, catch the draft - she has made the hole in the water, all I need to do is slip through it - two strokes, she's behind me. There. At the first buoy, I've already caught the next wave and I swim right through them. I am vicious. My little feet kick people, my arms brush shoulders and hips as I chase my drafts, I swim over one person. Our wetsuits slide over each other like seal skin. I do not do any of this on purpose, but we are all in each other's way.

At Sugarloaf two weeks ago, Ginger and Judson had a precious glow surrounding them. I envied you so much, I remember that, and I wanted to feel it. It is that breathless feeling, the little smile, like you have a secret. You do. You know what you get to do the next day, and you are already wrapped in magic. I looked at you happily, but jealously. I reassured myself that I would feel the same in two weeks, that I would be glowing on half-iron eve, that I would feel my own magic.
I didn't, and I am aching for it. Instead of a glow, I am wrapped in shadows of fatigue.

I make the second turn on the swim. It is a rectangular course, and now I am headed back to the beach. I have had no trouble sighting so far, the bright orange tetrahedron buoys, but now I cannot see well and I drift farther right than I want. I am not off-course, but I am not hugging them. You're almost to shore, faster, mmmm that pretty freestyle. I can see sand under me, a couple more strokes, run up the beach into T1.
Bike shoes, helmet, running out of transition. I'm on the pavement and I hop on Chatter, trying to clip the pedals and they're spinning effortlessly. This does not feel right - what is wrong, girl? CHAIN someone says and I get off, pull to the side. The chain is off the teethy-thingie. Ohhh. I slip it back on, and when I finally clip it feels fine. I look at my hands, black from touching her.
Ten miles into the bike and I'm already wishing it's over. I am not wearing a watch and I don't have a bike computer, I don't want to see the seconds tick away. I go by feel, I eat gels when I think I need them.

Nine gels today. Seven cycling, two on the run. Five of those were caffeinated, oh goodness I will never sleep tonight. And I do not want another Gu for a very, very long time.

We are on a two-loop course, so at mile 20, I realize I'm almost through one loop. WOO HOO! This course is hard. It is hilly. There is one hill that I almost have to walk up, but I'm sure that if take the tenth of a second to twist my foot out of the clip, I will fall over and roll down the hill. So I slowly move up it, panting puppy-style.
One loop done. One more.
I nearly get hit by a car on the second loop. It is backing out of a driveway and doesn't see me, and I slip away just in time. It is so quick that I am not shaken, just angry. HEY, I yell back. WATCH IT, I'm SMALL!
I will say this: it went fast. After I settled in, I was okay. Not having the watch helped, I had no idea I'd been out there for over three hours - it didn't feel it. Maybe, that was magic.
Storm sky, tempest sky. I smiled. Pretty, pretty grey.
Off the bike, counting blessings that I didn't have any more mechanical troubles. I saw people with flats (fixable) but I felt sorry that their race suffered from something they had no control over. The bike support truck pulled up to one guy, asked what he needed, and he said "I need a new bike. The derailer broke." Oh, man. I caught his eyes, he didn't look angry. Just sad, and shaken.

Yesterday, I met two other college students whom I've chatted with online. Blake, and Janie. Both will be at IMLP, and they were so nice. Blake went 4:55 today, I do not know what Janie did.

Janie is in my age group and I look for her bike, and others, when I'm back in transition. I am trying to gauge how I am doing. A couple bikes are there, but the rack looks pretty empty. Okay. Run shoes, I watch my fingers tie them, all the little motions. Socks - I have put on socks - and I clip the number belt as I am running out of transition. My swimsuit, I am wearing that magic swimsuit, feeling as gorgeous as Cinderella did when she put her slippers on.
Run. On the beach, then out on the road. My energy level, stable on the bike, is now up and down. I have my legs for a minute, then they ache. Two loop run course, out and back, out and back again. I chunk it into four pieces: the first goes by fast. The hills, again, I ache. On the way back, I feel an ache in my back. What muscle, you learned them all in school this semester, it is one of the erector spinae group. Spinalis, longissimus, iliocostalis. The first one, reaching up from my hip to my shoulder. One lap, done. Out again, and it is getting harder. I walk up the hill, I think of all of you guys. RUN. I imagine Ian, like in Portland. 1,2,3, RUN. Back on my feet, and okay.
Coming back for the last time, only 5k left, oh thank god. Another muscle tightens around me. Again, what is it. Serratus anterior. It covers ribs 1-8, and does scapular protraction. This is the movement when you lift your arms to hug someone. This muscle is hugging me, too tightly, squeezing my lungs. Relax, breathe. You're okay, you're okay.
I see the 11 marker, where is 12, where is it? I have missed it. There is no 13, either. I want to see them, I feel like I am moving so slowly. Two guys have been in front of me by a couple steps the whole time, and I run ahead of them now. You won't catch me, I call back, laughing. I run through people who are waving their arms like you would for a backstroke - oh that is so wonderful, how did you know I am a swimmer?! I am running to the finish, over a trail, happy, ohmygod I am there. Sprint, sprint.

Toward the middle of the run, my hamstrings felt like the strings on a violin, the bow running sharply across them, painful. Ohhhh that hurt. I told you, it was just so much pain today. Some days I like that but today, I hated it. It was too much, I wanted to cry.

I did cry when I finished. I cried because it was over, because I didn't have to run another painful step. I cried becuase... I don't know. It was just so much, it was the only reaction I could find. I couldn't breathe, like there were a cotton ball in my throat. The finish line crew found an EMT to take care of me, and she brought me to a picnic bench and kept trying to put clothes on me. I was so hot, I did not want them. I wanted to get air in my lungs! Finally I coughed, and I was okay. But I couldn't stop crying.

I am calmer, now. From raw, to just tired, not wanting to feel anything more. But I am not happy. I'm not sad anymore. It was just not what I wanted. I hope that as the rest of the body marks fade, I will heal.