So…I qualified for four sporting events for next year’s National Senior Games: running, swimming, and cycling. You can count; that’s only three. The fourth is the triathlon, which technically does not have a required qualifier. The games run 11 days in November, which means, if things were perfectly spaced out, I could be competing once every three days.
I’m not sure if this is a potential achievement worth going for, or a very bad place to crash-land very hard. That’s a lot of rough play for someone who’s closing in fast on Social Security and Medicare by that time.
The exact schedule for the Nationals has not been posted yet, so there is no way of knowing what events are scheduled which days, if there is any overlap or where the events are (for the record, the event is supposed to happen in the general vicinity of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but Broward is a big county). But let’s pretend everything is awesome (a lot to ask after the way 2020 has gone) and I could do all four events.
Right now, my brain says no problem. Think of the fame of winning medals in all four of those events. There could be media coverage, my photo published on seniors’ websites, commercial endorsements (I’m picky, though; I would only endorse what I’d use, such as fiber supplements, antiseptic bandages, ice packs, heating pads, and reading glasses), and deep and meaningful conversations with other famous athletes (trading training secrets with Serena Williams and comparing butterfly times with Michael Phelps).
My body says “No, seriously…have you really thought about this? Even if you do nothing but train every day, how do you get through a dozen days of hell with your sanity intact and the ability to put one foot in front of the other? There aren’t enough pain pills in the pharmacy to fix your busted butt when that’s over.”
So there’s a lot of wishful plotting doused with a heavy dose of reality. At this point, I don’t know which of the four events will be possible, though it is nice to know I have choices. Many people only show up for one sport, because that’s all they’ve got. I’d like to think my pony’s got more than one trick left.