Calico.

There’s my scaredy cat! One of the legend of Tiger, Calico freaks out about a lot of stuff. Like his Mommy, he takes great comfort in shoes, tee hee.

As I write, I’m seated at the airport terminal, waiting to board the plane for my very first destination race. My level of excitement, on a scale from 1-10? 0.

Odd, considering that I neither have to fly nor race, and I am here by my own doing. I wish it were just the nervousness for the half-marathon that awaits me, but there’s more.

I bloody hate to fly. Why? I might die, of course. Yes, I understand that by miles traveled, flying is the safest way to travel. Never mind that. I’m here simply because driving would be highly inefficient and likely more expensive.

Each time I fly, I am reminded of how little control I have over anything aside from my attitude. I was thinking this morning of how freaked out I was about the swim at St. Anthony’s. The bay is so big and unpredictable and Lady J is so small – and fairly predictable, by comparison. 🙂 At least then I was in control of moving myself forward. Now all I can do is sit and pray that this pilot person knows what the hell he is doing. And that no one is in the mood for mischief the way they were in Ukraine yesterday. 😦

The kind of fear that I have is evidence of my privileged life. The idea of a few bumps or a few choppy waves is enough to make me very uncomfortable. I’m thankful that God is with me both in the water and in the air. I pray that He continues to humble me and may I have the awareness to know that He is in control, even when I feel like I am.

NB: Port-a-potty > airplane lavatory.