Yes, I'm down to 9 weeks, to be exact. There's something about going from 10 to 9 weeks left that makes Ironman feel quite imminent, like I need to be ready next week. When I exhale, I remind myself that there are still over two months to go. And I need every day in those 2+ months!
This was a "light" week for me--a week with planned reduced volume to give my body a break but still maintain my progress. The week's totals:
Total time = 10:25
Total mileage = 85.50
Swim = 1:30, 2.40
Bike = 4:20, 66.00
Run = 2:50, 17.10
Other = 1:45
And yet these totals would have been higher, had I completed every workout on my plan. But on Friday my body protested. And I listened by taking a self-imposed second day of complete rest. This sustained high volume of training had caught up with me. It's not so much that I'm doing too much...rather, it's I'm eating too little. With my ever-increasing intensity in training must come a corresponding increase in eating and drinking. This I'm not used to, and I suffered the consequences this week: low energy, slow recovery, physical fatigue that even sleep couldn't cure, and mental sluggishness. All signs of impending burnout.
So I upped my caloric intake and was conscious of drinking more water and in a matter of days, felt 100% better. As I write this, I'm fully aware that always being hungry is something many people see as a good problem to have. It is and it isn't. It is when caloric output is low. It isn't when I need those calories to simply function, to say nothing of carrying me on a 5-hour bike ride. Improper or insufficient nutrition at this point could spell doom for my dream.
On another note...I'm starting to do workouts that simulate race conditions. My long bike ride on Saturday was followed immediately by a 6-mile run. I need to learn how my legs will feel after riding for over 6 hours straight and how to adjust my run pace appropriately. And on Saturday? I felt so-so when I first started running and felt better the longer I went. That's a good sign.
My run today was an 8-miler done mid-afternoon, at just about the same time I'll start running the marathon in the race. This helps me get used to running later in the day after being active for already many hours and during the warmest part of the day.
One final note: As I'm sure you're all well aware, May is just around the corner. I meet with my coach tomorrow to plan my May workout schedule. Several big things happen in May. The reservoir where I do my open-water swim training opens May 7th. I have a century ride in Santa Fe on May 15th and my weekend rides from that point on will hover around 100+ miles. The whole month of May is will see my highest volume yet, and at the end of the month, my training will "peak."
In the meantime, my new cruiser bike sits patiently in the house still waiting for her inaugural ride. She understands that we'll have loads of fun come July.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The fine line between precaution and neurosis
Last fall, I read a fabulous little book called "Ironplanner" that was written, as you may have guessed, to help folks plan for, train for, and complete Ironman. The author introduced the book by reflecting on her own Ironman experiences--the time, energy, and attention to detail required to be successful. Oh, and the compulsion that surely will develop along the way. I consider myself a careful person. I wear my seatbelt all the time. I know when to say when to the wine bottle. I stay a safe distance from the cliff's edge. I never take off on a ride without my bike helmet, RoadID anklet, cell phone, and credit card, you know, just in case. Lest you consider all of that to be merely common sense, also know that I'm the girl who plans her free time, who can be spontaneous if given enough warning, and who rarely does things not on the to-do list. My 401(k) investing aside, I take very few risks.
No amount of desire for all things planned and predictable, however, prepared me for how utterly preoccupied I'm becoming on this journey.
This won't be the best analogy, but hang with me. Have you ever had a dull ache somewhere minor, maybe on your elbow from hitting it against something? Better yet--maybe you have a song in your head that plays and plays and plays and... This is my life--a 24/7 soundtrack somewhere in my back of my mind of what should I eat and when should I go to bed and who's sick so I can avoid the germs and can I go to happy hour or do I have a swim planned and if I do go to happy hour when can I get in my swim and how busy is my workweek and how will that affect training and am I neglecting my friends and family and if so what do I do and should I stop by the store on my way home from work to pick up food for the next three days and if so what do we need let me try to create the shopping list from memory and...........................INHALE........
I was telling friends at lunch the other day that there's not a minute that passes that I don't think about this undertaking. Sometimes it's very much in the forefront of my mind, like when I'm talking about it or planning workouts or travel or whatnot. Most often, though, it's a lowgrade mumble somewhere in the reaches of my consciousness, a whisper Don't forget about me everything you do matters. And that's true and it's not. I do think about needing to avoid germs. As well as being vigilant about rest and general self-care so I can feel good enough for tomorrow's workout session. Aside from spending more time in the pool and on the bike and in my running shoes, however, I don't think my life has changed all that drastically. (I get that some of you may beg to differ.)
Ironplanner reminded me that there are many things not under my control when it comes to training and racing: weather, the "other people" out there, and emergencies, to name a few major ones. Everything else falls squarely inside my circle of control: how I treat myself during training and during rest, what I eat, when I sleep, when I say yes to one more cocktail. And so on.
Ironplanner warned about becoming obsessed over every little thing, whether directly related or only tangentially connected to the end goal. At the time I thought What a bunch of freaks.
Well here I am, bordering on becoming or already having become one of those freaks, depending on whom you ask.
It's funny...I'm experiencing this fascinating double-duty of simultaneously going through this process and watching myself go through this process. This dual focus creates a clarity I've rarely experienced: I feel every muscle move and engage, I hear every breath, I take note of every person I see on the road or on the trail, I hear every sound and smell every smell (especially the burgers on the grill). With such heightened presence, no wonder Ironman training pushes people to the edge of obsession.
At the same time, I'm careful about how much I talk out loud about my training, the event, and all the nitty-gritty details that accompany this goal. Most of my thoughts stay in my head. I never want to be "that girl" who can't shut up about her average bike pace or swim stroke or nutrition this-and-that. If you ask me to share, that's a wholy different story--I'll talk your ear off as long as you seem curious. You can find me over here making my lists and checking them twice and pouring over the latest obscure research findings.
No amount of desire for all things planned and predictable, however, prepared me for how utterly preoccupied I'm becoming on this journey.
This won't be the best analogy, but hang with me. Have you ever had a dull ache somewhere minor, maybe on your elbow from hitting it against something? Better yet--maybe you have a song in your head that plays and plays and plays and... This is my life--a 24/7 soundtrack somewhere in my back of my mind of what should I eat and when should I go to bed and who's sick so I can avoid the germs and can I go to happy hour or do I have a swim planned and if I do go to happy hour when can I get in my swim and how busy is my workweek and how will that affect training and am I neglecting my friends and family and if so what do I do and should I stop by the store on my way home from work to pick up food for the next three days and if so what do we need let me try to create the shopping list from memory and...........................INHALE........
I was telling friends at lunch the other day that there's not a minute that passes that I don't think about this undertaking. Sometimes it's very much in the forefront of my mind, like when I'm talking about it or planning workouts or travel or whatnot. Most often, though, it's a lowgrade mumble somewhere in the reaches of my consciousness, a whisper Don't forget about me everything you do matters. And that's true and it's not. I do think about needing to avoid germs. As well as being vigilant about rest and general self-care so I can feel good enough for tomorrow's workout session. Aside from spending more time in the pool and on the bike and in my running shoes, however, I don't think my life has changed all that drastically. (I get that some of you may beg to differ.)
Ironplanner reminded me that there are many things not under my control when it comes to training and racing: weather, the "other people" out there, and emergencies, to name a few major ones. Everything else falls squarely inside my circle of control: how I treat myself during training and during rest, what I eat, when I sleep, when I say yes to one more cocktail. And so on.
Ironplanner warned about becoming obsessed over every little thing, whether directly related or only tangentially connected to the end goal. At the time I thought What a bunch of freaks.
Well here I am, bordering on becoming or already having become one of those freaks, depending on whom you ask.
It's funny...I'm experiencing this fascinating double-duty of simultaneously going through this process and watching myself go through this process. This dual focus creates a clarity I've rarely experienced: I feel every muscle move and engage, I hear every breath, I take note of every person I see on the road or on the trail, I hear every sound and smell every smell (especially the burgers on the grill). With such heightened presence, no wonder Ironman training pushes people to the edge of obsession.
At the same time, I'm careful about how much I talk out loud about my training, the event, and all the nitty-gritty details that accompany this goal. Most of my thoughts stay in my head. I never want to be "that girl" who can't shut up about her average bike pace or swim stroke or nutrition this-and-that. If you ask me to share, that's a wholy different story--I'll talk your ear off as long as you seem curious. You can find me over here making my lists and checking them twice and pouring over the latest obscure research findings.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Everything, and yet nothing, is different
I have a lot of time to think while I'm training. A LOT. Some people ask me how I pass the time and what I do while all alone. I think about many things: what race day will be like, how I'm feeling physically, how my energy is and should I stop to eat, how my to-do list is coming along, what the upcoming week has in store.
I also compose future blog posts. I wait for inspiration and then run (no pun intended) with it. This past weekend, what struck me is that I'm far enough along in training that I'm experiencing new things daily. And yet at the same time, all of this feels terribly familiar. Follow me on a reflection of "the more things change, the more they stay the same."
What's familiar. Soreness and fatigue are the norm nowadays. What's new. The soreness and fatigue are located solely in my muscles, not my joints. And it's mostly gone the next day.
What's familar. I live for movement, the more the better, the longer the better. So this training schedule is right up my alley. I'm used to spending whole days on the bike in the spring and summer. What's new. Not being particularly fond of rest days. Itching to resume training the next day. And feeling sluggish when I do. What's also new. Sustaining this high volume day after day, week after week. I probably won't be able to sleep in without setting an alarm until June 27th. I miss that.
What's new. I simultaneously am the most tired I've ever been and feel better than I ever have. This time last year, I would have regularly favored sleeping an extra hour over getting up well before dawn to make it to the gym. With this goal comes a remarkable focus. I've always been goal-driven, but my previous efforts pale in comparison to this year's Big Event.
What's familiar. I've long been fascinated with how my body works and have been careful to take care of it. What's new. From all of my reading, my massage therapy, working with my coach, and now with my muscle activation sessions, I have learned more about how this is all possible and am infintely more fascinated with the strength and resilience of the human body.
Forgive me as I sound like a broken record. Muscle activation continues to be my saving grace. I had my third session with BJ this weekend and it came not a moment too soon. The day prior, I awoke to the entire left side of my upper back and neck on strike. It was painful even to pick things up. Lo and behold, my left upper back and neck were not the culprit. Rather, as BJ explained, my right side had decided to take the week off, leaving my left with no choice but to do double duty. I'm happy to report both sides are working in concert once again and I had a terrific weekend of some pretty tough workouts.
On that note, on to the week's totals.
Total time = 13:15
Total mileage = 129.00
Swim = 3:00, 4.50
Bike = 6:45, 111.00
Run = 2:15, 13.50
Other = 1:15
That's all I got. Off to bed, to get up and do it all again tomorrow.
I also compose future blog posts. I wait for inspiration and then run (no pun intended) with it. This past weekend, what struck me is that I'm far enough along in training that I'm experiencing new things daily. And yet at the same time, all of this feels terribly familiar. Follow me on a reflection of "the more things change, the more they stay the same."
What's familiar. Soreness and fatigue are the norm nowadays. What's new. The soreness and fatigue are located solely in my muscles, not my joints. And it's mostly gone the next day.
What's familar. I live for movement, the more the better, the longer the better. So this training schedule is right up my alley. I'm used to spending whole days on the bike in the spring and summer. What's new. Not being particularly fond of rest days. Itching to resume training the next day. And feeling sluggish when I do. What's also new. Sustaining this high volume day after day, week after week. I probably won't be able to sleep in without setting an alarm until June 27th. I miss that.
What's new. I simultaneously am the most tired I've ever been and feel better than I ever have. This time last year, I would have regularly favored sleeping an extra hour over getting up well before dawn to make it to the gym. With this goal comes a remarkable focus. I've always been goal-driven, but my previous efforts pale in comparison to this year's Big Event.
What's familiar. I've long been fascinated with how my body works and have been careful to take care of it. What's new. From all of my reading, my massage therapy, working with my coach, and now with my muscle activation sessions, I have learned more about how this is all possible and am infintely more fascinated with the strength and resilience of the human body.
Forgive me as I sound like a broken record. Muscle activation continues to be my saving grace. I had my third session with BJ this weekend and it came not a moment too soon. The day prior, I awoke to the entire left side of my upper back and neck on strike. It was painful even to pick things up. Lo and behold, my left upper back and neck were not the culprit. Rather, as BJ explained, my right side had decided to take the week off, leaving my left with no choice but to do double duty. I'm happy to report both sides are working in concert once again and I had a terrific weekend of some pretty tough workouts.
On that note, on to the week's totals.
Total time = 13:15
Total mileage = 129.00
Swim = 3:00, 4.50
Bike = 6:45, 111.00
Run = 2:15, 13.50
Other = 1:15
That's all I got. Off to bed, to get up and do it all again tomorrow.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Fears, tears, and cheers
Imagine yourself attempting any regular daily activity--walking, brushing your teeth, talking on the phone, breathing even. And yet something isn't quite right. Your legs feel heavy, as if you're wearing ankle weights. You struggle to even pick up your foot. Ditto for your arms when trying to brush your teeth. The phone call? Can't hear. It sounds like the other person is under water. And forget about breathing--every time you inhale, it feels like you're the one under water.
Welcome to my 80-mile bike ride on Saturday: an attempt to do something I've done a million times before, yet feeling utterly handicapped. The forecast called for wind, but I was not prepared for how debilitating it would be. My legs churned, my thighs yelled at me, and I had to turn my head away from the onslaught to catch a breath.
Okay, I exaggerate. The entire ride wasn't so completely backbreaking and demoralizing. Just the last 50 miles. The first 30 were sterling and I clipped along at a blistering pace.
So why the fears? Gusts reached 40+ mph that day. Just when I thought the headwind was bad, I turned a corner and was greeted by the more dangerous crosswind. Several times I felt my bike actually move sideways. I didn't even dare take a hand off the bars to grab a drink. I was keenly aware that at any moment, the wind could catch my front wheel and I'd be laid flat out on my back. I thought about walking during the heinously strong gusts, but I couldn't even stop safely...I knew that if I slowed down, the wind would win.
And what about the tears? The spring "breeze" was relentless, as was the helpless feeling it induced. Despite my exhaustive efforts, there were times I was going only slightly faster than I can run. And don't even ask me about riding at a snail's pace past the pig farm. Twice I seriously considered calling Steve to come pick me up. I didn't...mostly because my rational brain was somehow still working and convinced me that I could be back at my car faster than he could get there, and well, I'd still have to wait in the wind. See, I was in Aurora, a totally-exposed expanse of a town east of Denver. East, as in kinda-like-Kansas. And that means no shelter, no gas station in which to hunker down, no tree even to lean against. It was either sit on the side of the road and wait, or ride on said road and inch closer to salvation. Inch closer, I did. Once back in my car, I sat. I sat in the stillness and quiet. I shed a few tears that day, many while riding and a few more when I was safe and driving back home.
And the cheers? Today I brought home my I'm-turning-40 cruiser bike, my chill-the-$#@%-out-bike. She's resting in the office right now. She had a big day, getting polished up and poked and prodded, what with getting the basket installed and the new valve caps swapped out and the leather streamers glued on. Every time I walk by her, I can't help but smile. I haven't yet introduced her to my road bike, but I'm convinced they'll be fast friends.
This week brought other cheers. Training is definitely getting really hard, and yet I feel better than ever. I can't sing the praises of muscle activation enough. And despite all my whining above about my ride, I recovered quickly and had a terrific 10-mile run this morning. On the swimming front, I'm 800 meters (1/2 mile) away from being able to swim the race distance. This won't come until next month, and yet at this point, my pace is consistent and if I keep it up, I'll meet my swim time goal on June 26.
Here are the week's totals.
Total time = 14:10
Total mileage = 121.75
Swim = 3:35, 4.75
Bike = 6:15, 101.00
Run = 2:35, 16.00
Other = 1:45
One last reflection on Saturday's ride. I think it was at mile 70, when I had 10 miles still to go and was having my second meltdown, when Muhammed Ali's words from my last post entered my head. "The will must be greater than the skill." I have the skill to ride in adverse conditions. And yet skill was not what saw me through those last 10 miles. It was sheer will. No, there are no coincidences--I came across that quote at just the right time.
Welcome to my 80-mile bike ride on Saturday: an attempt to do something I've done a million times before, yet feeling utterly handicapped. The forecast called for wind, but I was not prepared for how debilitating it would be. My legs churned, my thighs yelled at me, and I had to turn my head away from the onslaught to catch a breath.
Okay, I exaggerate. The entire ride wasn't so completely backbreaking and demoralizing. Just the last 50 miles. The first 30 were sterling and I clipped along at a blistering pace.
So why the fears? Gusts reached 40+ mph that day. Just when I thought the headwind was bad, I turned a corner and was greeted by the more dangerous crosswind. Several times I felt my bike actually move sideways. I didn't even dare take a hand off the bars to grab a drink. I was keenly aware that at any moment, the wind could catch my front wheel and I'd be laid flat out on my back. I thought about walking during the heinously strong gusts, but I couldn't even stop safely...I knew that if I slowed down, the wind would win.
And what about the tears? The spring "breeze" was relentless, as was the helpless feeling it induced. Despite my exhaustive efforts, there were times I was going only slightly faster than I can run. And don't even ask me about riding at a snail's pace past the pig farm. Twice I seriously considered calling Steve to come pick me up. I didn't...mostly because my rational brain was somehow still working and convinced me that I could be back at my car faster than he could get there, and well, I'd still have to wait in the wind. See, I was in Aurora, a totally-exposed expanse of a town east of Denver. East, as in kinda-like-Kansas. And that means no shelter, no gas station in which to hunker down, no tree even to lean against. It was either sit on the side of the road and wait, or ride on said road and inch closer to salvation. Inch closer, I did. Once back in my car, I sat. I sat in the stillness and quiet. I shed a few tears that day, many while riding and a few more when I was safe and driving back home.
And the cheers? Today I brought home my I'm-turning-40 cruiser bike, my chill-the-$#@%-out-bike. She's resting in the office right now. She had a big day, getting polished up and poked and prodded, what with getting the basket installed and the new valve caps swapped out and the leather streamers glued on. Every time I walk by her, I can't help but smile. I haven't yet introduced her to my road bike, but I'm convinced they'll be fast friends.
This week brought other cheers. Training is definitely getting really hard, and yet I feel better than ever. I can't sing the praises of muscle activation enough. And despite all my whining above about my ride, I recovered quickly and had a terrific 10-mile run this morning. On the swimming front, I'm 800 meters (1/2 mile) away from being able to swim the race distance. This won't come until next month, and yet at this point, my pace is consistent and if I keep it up, I'll meet my swim time goal on June 26.
Here are the week's totals.
Total time = 14:10
Total mileage = 121.75
Swim = 3:35, 4.75
Bike = 6:15, 101.00
Run = 2:35, 16.00
Other = 1:45
One last reflection on Saturday's ride. I think it was at mile 70, when I had 10 miles still to go and was having my second meltdown, when Muhammed Ali's words from my last post entered my head. "The will must be greater than the skill." I have the skill to ride in adverse conditions. And yet skill was not what saw me through those last 10 miles. It was sheer will. No, there are no coincidences--I came across that quote at just the right time.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The will must be greater than the skill
Those words are from Muhammad Ali. I came across them the other day in an interview with Chrissie Wellington, 3-time Ironman world champion and world record holder. It was the same day I talked with Heather, my Ironman veteran friend I've mentioned many times in these posts. She passed on encouragement someone shared with her when she was training for Coeur d'Alene. It went something like this: You could do Ironman tomorrow. You have the physical ability to get through it. You just need to be able to believe that you can.
I'm still making my way there. Could I swim 2.4 miles tomorrow? Yes. Could I bike 112 miles tomorrow? Yes. Could I run 26.2 miles tomorrow? (no comment.) Could I do all of that without stopping? I really really want to say yes. My self-talk hasn't quite caught up to my desire.
I'm to the point now where I'm counting weeks left instead of months. Before I know it, I'll be counting days. I'm starting to sense what it might be like to be ready. The analogy that comes to mind to describe what I'm experiencing right now is taking a road trip. With every mile, home gets smaller and farther away and your end point, while still not within your sights, gets closer. You can just feel it. And at some point you cross the "halfway" mark--where you're closer to your destination than you are to home. I'm well past halfway, far from where I began. Even January seems like a million years ago. And yet the starting line in Coeur d'Alene is quite nebulous. I've been on many starting lines in the past, but not that starting line. I do and I don't know what to expect.
So I take Heather's words to heart. Perhaps I could finish the race tomorrow. At the same time I wonder if it's ever possible to be completely prepared for such an event? It is the thing that simultaneously excites and scares me the most: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to tackle something a small fraction of the world will ever know. And of one thing I am certain: nothing can break my will.
I'm still making my way there. Could I swim 2.4 miles tomorrow? Yes. Could I bike 112 miles tomorrow? Yes. Could I run 26.2 miles tomorrow? (no comment.) Could I do all of that without stopping? I really really want to say yes. My self-talk hasn't quite caught up to my desire.
I'm to the point now where I'm counting weeks left instead of months. Before I know it, I'll be counting days. I'm starting to sense what it might be like to be ready. The analogy that comes to mind to describe what I'm experiencing right now is taking a road trip. With every mile, home gets smaller and farther away and your end point, while still not within your sights, gets closer. You can just feel it. And at some point you cross the "halfway" mark--where you're closer to your destination than you are to home. I'm well past halfway, far from where I began. Even January seems like a million years ago. And yet the starting line in Coeur d'Alene is quite nebulous. I've been on many starting lines in the past, but not that starting line. I do and I don't know what to expect.
So I take Heather's words to heart. Perhaps I could finish the race tomorrow. At the same time I wonder if it's ever possible to be completely prepared for such an event? It is the thing that simultaneously excites and scares me the most: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to tackle something a small fraction of the world will ever know. And of one thing I am certain: nothing can break my will.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
ahhhh...laziness...
I've spent the afternoon on the couch, napping, reading, and watching the original Superman. This was after running 9.5 miles this morning and cleaning the house and running errands, of course. :-) It feels quite luxurious to have nowhere to go and have nothing to do except close the blinds against the dreary skies and hunker down in my most favorite place.
Yesterday was quite a different story. We hit a record high of 84 degrees and had plentiful sunshine. I had to search for my sunscreen before my 70-mile bike ride, seeing as I hadn't used it since September. What a glorious day! It didn't even matter that the winds blew something fierce. The sun was out, I was out with two awesome friends, Jacquline and Cindy, and I was feeling stellar.
I needed a week like this one. Several things happened to help me get back to feeling like my old self. I began the week melting down in my coach's office. Sorry, the meltdown itself isn't the "old self" part, but rather the putting-me-back-together. My coach has done two Ironmans so I put my training life wholly in her hands. Never once did she say or even intimate "well, maybe this just isn't for you." Rather, she repeated over and over until I started to believe it that I will be ready and I will finish this thing. After talking me off the ledge, she promptly set about planning my April to give my knee the space to heal, but otherwise as if my goal is undeterred. If not for her guidance, I would be lost.
I received more perspective and encouragement in the form of several voicemails from my friend Heather who completed Coeur d'Alene two years ago. Her messages, like those from my coach, were nothing but positive and supportive and empathetic and heartfelt and confidence-boosting. Heather has been there, knows what it takes, has experienced the lows I've struggled through lately. In the spirit of Superman, she swooped in to tell me what I wasn't able to tell myself.
Another crucial event this week was my second muscle activation session with BJ. I've been diligent about completing my exercises twice a day and have noticed results. I was curious as to what he would notice. The original strength tests he repeated all showed that my quads, hams, and calves are much stronger due to the specific exercises he prescribed. The new tests showed that although I have strong abs and chest, my inner thighs, shoulders, and upper back need help. And you can probably guess what that means: more exercises. Five new ones to add to my routine. I'll gladly take them. BJ also was very positive about the progress toward my goal. I'll see him again in two weeks.
Finally, three of my workouts this week have helped shift things for me. On Tuesday, I did a 30-min bike followed immediately by a 6-mile run. I came home beaming--I've not felt that good in a while. Saturday was my long bike ride and my knee held up like a rock star through all 70 miles. Not once did it even whisper at me. And today was my long run. Ditto.
I'm to the point now where details make a huge difference. New running shoes. Lowering my bike seat a millimeter. Eating a few more calories on the run. Getting an extra 30 min of sleep. Having just one glass of wine. And so on.
Here are this week's totals (swim is a bit less than it should be due to the pool being closed for a week):
Total time = 11:00
Total mileage = 97.60
Swim = 1:40, 2.50
Bike = 5:15, 77.00
Run = 2:55, 18.10
Other = 1:10
I'll end on a high note. I'm noticing a mindshift, too, with regard to my usual nuisances. Last year, you'd be hard-pressed to get me on my bike or out for a run with the forecast calling for 25-mph winds or rain changing to snow. And yet two things are different this year: If I'm to meet my goal, I don't have much of a choice than to suck it up and face the weather demons. More importantly, however, I now know that such obstacles will only make me stronger. What if June 26 sees vicious headwinds? What if it rains all day? What if the water is really cold? It's not like I'm not going to get up and face whatever race day brings. Strange...these once-unfriendly conditions are now my friends. They're exactly the things that toughen me up for what will be a beast of an event even in good weather.
Yesterday was quite a different story. We hit a record high of 84 degrees and had plentiful sunshine. I had to search for my sunscreen before my 70-mile bike ride, seeing as I hadn't used it since September. What a glorious day! It didn't even matter that the winds blew something fierce. The sun was out, I was out with two awesome friends, Jacquline and Cindy, and I was feeling stellar.
I needed a week like this one. Several things happened to help me get back to feeling like my old self. I began the week melting down in my coach's office. Sorry, the meltdown itself isn't the "old self" part, but rather the putting-me-back-together. My coach has done two Ironmans so I put my training life wholly in her hands. Never once did she say or even intimate "well, maybe this just isn't for you." Rather, she repeated over and over until I started to believe it that I will be ready and I will finish this thing. After talking me off the ledge, she promptly set about planning my April to give my knee the space to heal, but otherwise as if my goal is undeterred. If not for her guidance, I would be lost.
I received more perspective and encouragement in the form of several voicemails from my friend Heather who completed Coeur d'Alene two years ago. Her messages, like those from my coach, were nothing but positive and supportive and empathetic and heartfelt and confidence-boosting. Heather has been there, knows what it takes, has experienced the lows I've struggled through lately. In the spirit of Superman, she swooped in to tell me what I wasn't able to tell myself.
Another crucial event this week was my second muscle activation session with BJ. I've been diligent about completing my exercises twice a day and have noticed results. I was curious as to what he would notice. The original strength tests he repeated all showed that my quads, hams, and calves are much stronger due to the specific exercises he prescribed. The new tests showed that although I have strong abs and chest, my inner thighs, shoulders, and upper back need help. And you can probably guess what that means: more exercises. Five new ones to add to my routine. I'll gladly take them. BJ also was very positive about the progress toward my goal. I'll see him again in two weeks.
Finally, three of my workouts this week have helped shift things for me. On Tuesday, I did a 30-min bike followed immediately by a 6-mile run. I came home beaming--I've not felt that good in a while. Saturday was my long bike ride and my knee held up like a rock star through all 70 miles. Not once did it even whisper at me. And today was my long run. Ditto.
I'm to the point now where details make a huge difference. New running shoes. Lowering my bike seat a millimeter. Eating a few more calories on the run. Getting an extra 30 min of sleep. Having just one glass of wine. And so on.
Here are this week's totals (swim is a bit less than it should be due to the pool being closed for a week):
Total time = 11:00
Total mileage = 97.60
Swim = 1:40, 2.50
Bike = 5:15, 77.00
Run = 2:55, 18.10
Other = 1:10
I'll end on a high note. I'm noticing a mindshift, too, with regard to my usual nuisances. Last year, you'd be hard-pressed to get me on my bike or out for a run with the forecast calling for 25-mph winds or rain changing to snow. And yet two things are different this year: If I'm to meet my goal, I don't have much of a choice than to suck it up and face the weather demons. More importantly, however, I now know that such obstacles will only make me stronger. What if June 26 sees vicious headwinds? What if it rains all day? What if the water is really cold? It's not like I'm not going to get up and face whatever race day brings. Strange...these once-unfriendly conditions are now my friends. They're exactly the things that toughen me up for what will be a beast of an event even in good weather.
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