A Special Kind of Crazy

My first thoughts and intentions on this project were far from noble. My sister, currently six months pregnant, posted on Facebook that she had registered for a triathlon, with a compete date only two and a half months after her due date. Her concerns? Whether she'd be walking or running the 5K at the end.

Shoot. I thought. If she can do that shortly after delivering a baby, I could do that.

Problems with my logic:
At six months pregnant, my sister is probably still at least 75 pounds lighter than me.
At six months pregnant, my sister has a more vigorous daily exercise routine than me.
Technically, she hasn't done this yet, so there is the possibility that she could fail (although if I want to get "technical," this is also highly unlikely).
I would have about three months to "catch up" to her current fitness level. Considering it took me about five years to get to the (lack of) fitness level I am at, "catch up" should probably be spelled "ketchup, please, on top of my second order of fries."

Despite no longer being able to shop in normal-sized human stores (I joked last winter about having to buy size "extra elephant" ski pants--pants whose waistband snaps popped open with a moderate size breath), despite having no idea what sorts of distances a triathlon involves, and despite not having a swimsuit, bicycle, or running shoes that fit, some kind of something of an idea was growing in my brain. This idea, the idea of me doing a triathlon, the idea of me having to get fit enough to start training to do a triathlon, the idea of me challenging myself out of my current body, the idea of having only five months for this, this idea--takes a special kind of crazy.

But then, I've done plenty of crazy things before and this one might even be good for me.