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It's always a bad sign when I start a post and don't know the title.

It usually means I don't know where this train is going. And I don't.

I have to admit, that I've been in a bit of a bummer space recently. I blame it on Ironman, but it also could be because of other things going on in my life, too. But Ironblame seems more convenient. And less messy, since the other objects of my analysis are living and breathing and tend to dislike being part of the, well, analysis.

Here's the thing.

Ever since I came back from Wisconsin, I've been -- well, to be honest -- depressed. Not in a clinical, should-we-be-concerned, kind of way. But I have most certainly been less fun to be around and have been a grump for days on end. At first, I figured it was disappointment for the sickness in the race and having to pull. But it continued on, and started to infect how I was thinking about other things in my life. I've lost my sense of humor and joyfullness. Everything is a serious conversation with serious emotional implications. And the typically generous and supportive Mighty M has no more patience left for it. Home is tense. I am tense. Life feels tense.

And I'm not usually like this. I'm typically a silver lining, booming laughter kind of gal. Bright side of everything. Not so much nowadays.

I'm trying to whittle it down to what is "really" going on (what is that about us? that we too often prefer the convenient explanation? even when it solves little?) and two straight days of time in bed nursing a head cold have helped.

Or not.

Sometimes you can spend too much time in your own head.

But I think that this may be one of the few down sides to my Ironman experience. For so long, I've been planning for something that has dictated my time and resources, so much so that I am now left wondering what to do with myself. Not in a practical, time-management kind of way, but in a more important way.

Where do I find my hope?

So much about endeavoring to try something new like an Ironman, and the activities around it, was about finding something inspirational to look forward to, something that I could always turn my attention to and find some element of the unknown and exciting. It defined me, as well as my time and energies. I absorbed elements of the process, and felt the hope. I lived the hope. I looked forward with anticipation, I planned with glee, and I always felt a sense of the next exciting step.

And now, I find, it is hard to recreate that in normal life.

And, my inability to recreate that feeling has come to distort my normal life.

I have a great job, but one that has its bad points and can wear on the less resilient if you're not careful. I have a great relationship, but one that falls victim to my need for the "next step" in a disarming and sometimes dangerous way. I have a healthy and happy lifestyle, but I am dreading my 34th birthday next month in a startlingly stereotypical way.

I have so very much that I love, yet I've been recently bogged down with what seems to be missing. My attention and my energies have been held captive by this negative space.

And I think what I lack in the process is my next big thing. Something to hang a hat of hope on. Something to look forward to, even on days when I'm reminded of the negatives. Perhaps especially on those days.

I need some inspiration. I'm not sure yet where I will find it, but I clearly need some. Because my perspective is distorted right now and, as much as I can intellectually make the distinction, I need something to navigate my emotional life towards the future. Positively. With hope.