Fortune favors the brave, right?

Earlier, I wrote about how a post by Kristin Armstrong had resonated strongly with me: "When we wait to be perfect, we wait too long," read the summary.

I didn't mention it at the time, but the reason it spoke so loudly to me was that I was debating whether to do four days of RAGBRAI — from Des Moines to the end — like I'd thought about doing when the weather was safely cold.

It was like a tornado in my brain: Was I fit enough? Organized enough? Ambitious enough? Sufficiently equipped?

Just like public safety warnings about road conditions during snowstorms, I knew, logically, that RAGBRAI's website likely erred on the side of severity. You don't want people who have only logged a few 10-mile rides thinking they can and should sign up for a weeklong, 400-plus-mile event.

And just like with snow warnings, my emotional, worrywart side took over:

"Well, yeah, I live in one of the host cities, know several people interested in doing it — a few who have even done it, actually — and have enough vacation time left over after weddings, but maybe I'll just wait for the 14th-flattest and shortest route in history, rather than the 15th-flattest and second-shortest. I'll be in better shape then!"

That day, I was IM'ing with one of those friends, who'd fearlessly committed to the full week, at the same time as I was sifting through my Google Reader (I'm holding on until the bitter end).

Enter Kristin's post. I don't make all my decisions based on signs, but this one was neon and flashing. I couldn't ignore it. A few weeks and $100 later, I was officially in.

I can't say the worrywart side has shut up; right now, I'm procrastinating on paying $14 for Scheels to fix my second flat tire in a week and berating myself for leaping into a road bike with no mechanical skills whatsoever. (Evidently I don't always wait to be perfect.)

But I can say that, just like when I committed publicly and financially to running a half marathon in my first year of running, I stopped waiting to be perfect. Barring extreme circumstances, I'm unlikely to throw my online cred and $100 — OK, just the latter — away out of cowardice.

You can't nail every decision

My dad gave me a good piece of advice a few years back that I remind myself of fairly frequently: You're not going to be able to make every decision perfectly.

Most recently, this applied to scheduling my long run. I was out on a five-miler last Friday, daydreaming about how pleasant the weather was, how good my legs were feeling and how much time I would have to do other things post-run, when I thought: "Maybe I should just repeat this route and knock out the 10-miler."

But then, of course, I came up with several reasons to just wait. Hours later, as I checked the weekend weather forecast, I saw snow and lower temperatures through Monday (the last day of my "weekend"), and kicked myself until Dad's saying grew louder than the "should" statements.

When Sunday afternoon — the first time I had available to do a long run — rolled around, I came up with more reasons to wait: The wind was biting, and the flurries made it hard to see; the ground might be messy; I was tired; I had errands to run; etc. After all, the weather widget predicted no snow Monday afternoon.

Cue the Monday midmorning weather check: Snow had fallen, temps remained low, winds were going to pick up in the afternoon. Crap.

I also knew, though that, the longer I waited, the less likely I was to accomplish the run. So I girded my loins and headed out.

It wasn't my best long run, but it was far from my worst. One thing I found myself not minding at all were the snowy rec paths — they were pretty and cushioned that way! — yet as I did errands in the afternoon, noting the dry sidewalks, I heard it again: "You went too early, Sadye. Should've waited until the afternoon."

This time, instead of Dad's voice, I heard the voice of Kristin Armstrong, Runner's World blogger (and, yes, ex-wife of Lance). Her most recent post addressed the courage to try:

"How often do we all do that? Think that we will try the thing when we are better prepared to try?

"Isn’t that the point of 'try'?"

I'd been doing that all weekend, and by running despite the conditions — and in fact surviving just fine — I'd put two powerful pieces of advice into action. I'm not a pro athlete in a temperate climate; timing a run "perfectly" isn't going to happen every single time, by any means.

And what do I gain by waiting for that ideal balance? I'm training for race day, not for perfect running day ... which the race day could very well not be. (See Rockford Half Marathon 2012 and its noon temperature of 80 degrees.)

By not waiting, I gained more confidence for the half marathon. I'd been averaging some good speed on long runs, but in good weather; in less-than-ideal weather this time, I averaged just a little faster than what I've done previously.

Additionally,  the fatigue I felt was far more mental than physical. Something I'm doing is paying off!