Of course everything that was in my head and sounded so damn eloquent is now gone when I’m trying to capture it.

The thoughts in my head: I need to turn off the voices that say you should have done more strength training, you should have used your poles more, you should have done more miles, you should have you should have you should have. Gonna turn the volume down on that and turn up the volume on: you’ve got this. The hay is in the barn.

I am asked sometimes by a client who is under a wave about how I manage to keep my enthusiasm, optimism, and relish for the beauty of life. It’s an interesting question from someone outside my circle looking in. I guess it’s part of the passion for work, for music, and in this case for doing something for me. I respect my calendar. If I put it in there, then it is so. I don’t necessarily keep all my appointments, but if it’s in there it gets my full attention and I will prepare for it and be ready with time before, during, and after. That gives me a sense of grace. When I booked Finland a year ago, I gave it that respect and knew it was coming. And it’s at a certain point. It has happened. Or rather, about to.

One heart attack moment: I took a COVID test because of that little tickle in the back of the throat. After how many hundreds of COVID tests between home and work, how could I have misread this one? I stood there blinking, wondering: do I lie? Do I leave? What do I do? I decided to take another test. First, though, went to read the instructions. Sure enough: a strong negative. Slow down and focus on one thing at a time, Iris.

And it is done. Everything fits inside the backpack. That is a huge improvement after my last two Racing the Planet experiences. I’m thrilled with that success and will not overthink the weight of 20 pounds. This almost feels like a finish line to all the prep work, which has felt like a daunting task with so much going on at home and work. Focusing on the mantra: I’ve got this.

Getting my last dinner and veggies in. Every meal leaning towards fresh vegetables and fruit, knowing that the week ahead is freeze-dried. Why is it that the minute you leave the USA the food just tastes better? Even the lettuce? Enough to make you an immediate expat. Don’t tell my husband Rob.

What if I were to only write a story while on a RTP race? Weird vibes emerge and so do characters…