Feed Your Demons: Confession of an Iron Man

2024 Author: Malcolm Clapton | [email protected]. Last modified: 2024-01-13 00:26

There are a lot of psychological restraints in our heads, which, according to the idea of nature, should stop us in time, so that we avoid excessive overexertion and, what good, do not drive ourselves out. But for "iron people" they for some reason work differently from normal ones. What's going on in the head of a person who overcomes the Ironman distance for the first time? That's right: the struggle of perseverance and common sense.

Feed your demons. Press the accelerator pedal to the floor, kiss the cheekbones of the desired women until they hurt, get tattoos, beat glasses and hammam faces, sing drunken songs in the streets, jump with a parachute and smile at children in neighboring cars through the glass of a car. Feed your demons, because your demons are you. You are real, not pasteurized, not refined, not distilled and not filtered by moral principles, family values, public opinion, paternal censure. Feed them, otherwise they will eat themselves, and only a wrapper will remain from what a person is. The epidermal shell of the personality, inflated by complexes, not feelings, unfulfilled desires, and not emotions, unrealizable fantasies instead of self-confidence. Feed them and do not wait until they themselves, without your knowledge and desire, will burst out at one moment. They will tear your soul apart and, flashing brightly from an overabundance of oxygen, burn forever or carry you to the very bottom, where you will become an eternal performer of your vices, and not a director of your adventures. Feed your demons, don't be ashamed or afraid of them. Let others fear them, those whose demons have long been dead. Feature film "Mister Nobody"

Two years ago I read this somewhere on the web and accidentally found out about the existence of triathlon. Two years ago, I could not swim, did not ride a bike and ran seasonally from time to time, mainly in the spring, until I got bored. Two years ago I was a normal person …

And now it's the tenth hour of the race. During this time, I managed to run about 20 km, and before that I covered 180 km on a bicycle and even earlier swim almost 4 km. And, oddly enough, I can still move and continue to do so. Who am I? What am I doing here? Who are all these people and why are they so exhausted? Every now and then a strange mantra sounds in my head: “I am your strength. I am your will. You and I are of the same blood - you and I."

Who am I talking to? Oh yes, because two years ago I decided to feed my Demon and become "iron". Well, we should finish what we started and fix the result. Hard. It’s incredibly hard, and I don’t want anything. Unless just a glass of ice cream. How do professionals manage to cover this distance in 8 hours? Abnormal.

Someone is really bad: a hunched figure, standing on all fours on the side of the road, bashfully hides its face. He's sick - it's his Demon breaking out. As stubborn as mine. I run up, hug, clap on the shoulder: “Come on, boy, there is not much left. Get up, let's try to do it together! Colored elastic bands on the arms (or rather, their absence), like stars on the military's shoulder straps, indicate that the guy is only on the first lap. Poor fellow. He gets up, thanks and walks. Shows me with gestures that he is already better and I shouldn't mess with him. I continue on my way, trying my best to keep the pace, but not overdo it, so as not to be on the sidelines like him.

Here is the first spasm. As always, unexpectedly, at the wrong time and very painful. I stop, grab my hip with my hands and shout so that the fans who are nearby and watching me at this moment involuntarily depict pain grimaces on their faces and scream with me. Yes, so natural and sincere that I already want to help them, and not vice versa. They laughed, exchanged a few words in different languages, shook hands and sent me on. After the fifth convulsion, I learned how to deal with them on the go - you just need to shout some nonsense like “MASSARAKSH! GIVE MY FOOT!.

Coca Cola. Cold. Drink of the gods. But not all, but as crazy as we are. A liter bottle of this balm in the hands of his wife is generally priceless. Please continue to keep your unique formula a secret from the world. Especially from the Chinese. Otherwise, in the future there will be nothing to save people who deliberately drive and torture themselves with Ironman races. What a stupid word they have invented … Ironman …

"How are you?" - "Badly. I can hardly run. " - "Maybe you will stop?" - “Perhaps, yes. Another 14 km, and I will stop …”And I leave for the third, last lap of the marathon. She did not doubt the answer. She believes in me. How can I step back now?

The last reversal. Just now there was the farthest point of the running stage from the finish arch. Now home. Now there is no way to drop everything and turn around, because you still have to get to the finish line on foot. Or four - that's how it goes. It's good that this point of no return has already been passed. Like a mountain off your shoulders. Another 7 km. Now the main thing is to finish beautifully.

“I am your strength. I am your will. You and I are of the same blood - you and I. This mantra no longer exudes hopelessness. It blows with real strength, will and confidence that everything was not in vain. I see that I do not fit into the estimated 12 hours, and to hell with them - I would rather …

The finish line is 1 km away. Holland, you are beautiful! And the Dutch are the nicest people on this planet. Thank you for the tons of water poured on our heads, for the music, dancing, attempts to read and pronounce a name unfamiliar to your language and culture, and sincere joy when you succeeded. You are incredible fans!

This is euphoria, but not from the grass, but because the 226 km race is over. Because behind two years of training, hard work, 250 km by swimming, 4,000 km on a bike and 1,500 km on a run. Because now you don't have to get up at six in the morning and go to the pool and I can finally get enough sleep. Because a dream once turned into a goal, and now I am here in Holland, and now I will achieve it. Be patient a little longer. Here it is, the finish arch.

Someone tries to bypass me, but somewhere inside a red light comes on in time: "Don't give up the finish!" And I don’t give it up. With the last bit of strength I accelerate and do not give it up. He is mine. And the words:

KORNII KORNIIENKO, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!

Well, thank you for the medal, of course. Kids will be proud of their crazy folder. And while they are still small, I myself will savor this victory wherever possible. Where appropriate, of course. And where it is not very appropriate, too, because I am a triathlete! And to hell with ice cream! Give me a bucket of beer now - I deserve it today.

It all looks prettier on YouTube, everyone is smiling, but who will stop that? Or do you have a job from Monday to Friday from 9:00 to 18:00, family, children, a dog, credit, excess weight, lack of experience, and in general it is not clear which side to approach and where to start? Well then, of course … But I myself was once before entering this unknown, and it did not stop me, which I do not regret for a minute. Why? Perhaps because I know what it means to stand on the desired peak. And, I'll tell you a secret, on the way to her it is not at all necessary to sacrifice your whole life. Well, aside from a few gimmicks, of course, like Friday pubs, TV shows and fried potatoes. Although the potato can sometimes be left.:)

How? Take a look around - someone is already walking this path, while you remain in place and cannot make up your mind.

Feed your demons! Turn your Dream into a Goal!