Short Sentences on Big Question

It is one hour from midnight. At midnight it will be Saturday, July 25. Seven days from tomorrow I will do an Ironman. The idea seems distant while the time seems near. I know I will do it but I'm not sure how. It is a wide open feeling of waiting to find out. It is a small, cramped feeling of furrowing my brow and opening my eyes hopefully, extending my arms up from the floor like a child. It is my spine like a question mark. It is sitting on the edge of all my seats. It is a constant conversation at the back of my mind, it is the corner of the room my eyes dart to while I try to listen to what someone is saying, it is the texture that worries my dreams. It is a threshold.