Tag: training for ironman

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Why Are You Doing Ironman?

Last night I had a discussion with a friend who is training for Ironman and having a terrible time with running because of an injury.  It is one of those situations where she really believes a marathon could cause permanent damage.  Is it worth the risk?

It got me thinking about the reason I did Ironman in the first place.  Why did I REALLY do it?  I came up with three:

1.  Tackling a challenge beyond the scope of my belief.

2.  To prove to myself, my friends, and family, I could finish the unthinkable.

3.  To shock my system.

The latter may have been the biggest force.  I craved disruption of my life patterns, and Ironman rocked my world.  Slowly but surely I was waking up at 5 or 6 am, swimming in a lake, riding on Natchez Trace, or running through the park.  A major departure and the adrenaline of it all kept me on track.  Which leads me to a hidden reason . . . I was afraid to fail.

I couldn’t sleep half the nights because I was thinking about how it would feel in that water before the race.  Or I was wondering how on earth I would run a marathon I had never come close to attempting, and do it after a 112 mile bike ride?

As I hit certain milestones, my confidence grew, but fear drove me the entire way.  Every piddly injury messed with my head.  A hint of exhaustion freaked me out.  Skipping workouts poured on the guilt.  But in the end, I was so consumed with finishing Ironman, my subconscious willed me to the finish line.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been in more pain than I was for that run at Wisconsin.  For 26 miles I was in agony, but something kept me going.  The brain out-willed the body.

I faced a similar pain at New Orleans 70.3 two weeks ago and started walking.  A lot.  I couldn’t dig up a reason to push through the pain.

Last year, we trained outlandish amounts and never came close to doing 140.6 miles in one day.  I knew I’d better have my mind right when I got in the water or Ironman would eat me alive.  Thankfully I was ready.  I had my reasons.  Rising to the challenge, not wanting to let myself, friends or family down, and an overwhelming desire shake up my life.

Why are you racing Ironman?

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Ironman Pain and Recovery #IMNOLA

The morning after Ironman Wisconsin I laid in bed and took inventory.  I lifted my arms, circled my ankles, and stretched my legs.  I’d never done anything remotely close to 140.6 miles, and getting out of bed scared the shit out of me.

I sat on the edge looking down at the floor for about 5 minutes.  Should I try to walk, or just fall to my knees and crawl to the bathroom?  I decided to trust my legs, and what happened next was just short of remarkable.

Other than stabbing heel pain and a general tenderness, I felt fine.  Sure, I moved slowly, but that’s no different than most mornings.  I was physically drained, but the very next day I felt great swimming a 1,000 meters in Turtle Lake.  It’s just weird, and quite amazing, how much the body can handle.

This brings me back to Sunday in New Orleans.

From mile one of the run, I felt like my body was done, cooked, stewed in a Cajun goulash.  I just “couldn’t” run the entire 13.1 miles.  I was weak, battered, beaten.  But somehow, I completely ran the last 4 miles after intermittent walk/runs.  Then came the morning.

It felt exactly like Wisconsin.  I limped toward the bathroom, but after 10 minutes, I was fine.  I walked all over New Orleans that day and the only tough part was getting up after sitting a while.

On Tuesday I drove 8 hours back to Nashville and was full of energy that night.  I literally forgot I had just raced a Half Ironman.

All of this got me thinking.

Obviously my body was “ready” for 70.3 miles, but somewhere in there my mind convinced me it wasn’t.  I couldn’t find a “reason” to push through the pain.  I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I hadn’t been writing about training much.  I hadn’t been thinking about how I would deal with the stress of the race, or why I wanted to do it in the first place.

I was also training alone.  I didn’t surround myself with like minded people to inspire and push me.  Group training is great for accountability, but I think its biggest advantage comes from keeping your head straight.  It creates mental momentum and helps you believe.  It’s very hard to live alone on an island.

Moving forward, I have two commitments to make.  One is writing more, the other is working out with friends and groups.  So much of this is mental and if you try tackling a full or half Ironman without being focused, you are sunk.

Don’t get me wrong, there are hundreds of variables regarding recovery that include nutrition, rest, training, etc, but I think most of us can get a huge advantage from simply being mentally prepared for what you’ll face before, during, and after the race.

The day after Ironman New Orleans, I joined my mom and her friends for a paddle boat ride.  I sat in peace, gazing at the swirling water, taking in the glory of the Mighty Mississippi.  But I kept having a strange thought, what would happen if the boat sank?

Hysteria.

Hundreds of people scrambling for their lives.  I calculated the distance to the shore, and plotted how I would save those around me.  Hauling one on each leg like a pull buoy, using the current to guide us to the nearest plot of land.  It gave me an eery confidence.  I had a plan and felt good about it.  I visualized what it would take, and I was ready.

We would not sink.

 

 

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Mom's In Town Pulling More Weeds

A month or so ago, I posted a story about how my mom came to understand my reasoning for doing Ironman.  She said, “Well, I guess it’s probably like the people who don’t understand why I like pulling weeds in the garden.”  True, mom.  It’s hard to understand until you are in the shoes. 

It occurred to me that “pulling weeds” was a great analogy for what I’m doing.  Training for hours on end, ripping the sludge from my aging heart and joints. 

So, her and my brother, Chris, popped into Nashville last night on their way to see my sister, Amy, who is vacationing with her family on Kiawah Island.  Mom wasted no time proving herself by getting up at the crack of dawn and whipping my backyard into shape. 

Here’s a picture of my flower bed PM (pre-mom):

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And here’s the same bed of flowers post mom:

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As you can see, my mother does not mess around when it comes to pulling weeds. 

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Ironman Wake Up Call

I’m not going to put too much stock in one workout, but yesterday slapped me upside the head and left me seeing double.  It was a day that reminded me that I’m training for an Ironman and Ironman is not a joke.

Jim and I volunteered for Cedar’s of Lebanon Sprint Triathlon in the morning then hopped on our bikes to do a four hour ride.  I’ve only rode that long one other time and it was on a Spin bike, which I am now 100% clear is not even close to four hours on the road.

Admittedly I was a bit tired and stiff from standing around for hours, but our plan was to ride four 16 mile loops and follow up with a 20 minute run.  It sounded a lot easier than it was.

The route was surprisingly hilly, windy, and rough.  I told Jim before the ride that I’ve realized being in aero position a lot seems to make gloves less important.  But a day later, as I sit here with my left hand numb, I’m glad I put them on.

In short, we only made three loops and rode just over 50 miles, then ran about two.  I was out of time.  We started the day in Lebanon, TN at 7 am and it was about 2:00 before we got off the bike.  I had a video deadline looming at home, but frankly I wanted no part of that fourth loop.

Toward the end a rash flared up on the insides of my arms.  After the run I was itching like mad and trying to figure out what it was.  My very first thought was that I hadn’t drank enough water.  I normally drink 80% water on rides, but we loaded our bottles with the energy drinks (served at the triathlon) and I’m not sure it was a good idea.  I guessed my body was trying to sweat, but didn’t have enough water to push.

I started guzzling water and within about an hour the rash was all but gone.  Heat rash.

To not load my bottles with mainly water was an unusual decision for me.  I am a major advocate of water and believe most of societies “diseases” are actually dehydration in disguise.  Training for Ironman can easily lull our hydration needs to sleep because we are often on an adrenaline high and forget we’re constantly flirting with chronic dehydration.  A lesson remembered.

But the biggest lesson of the day is that I am nowhere near ready to race an Ironman.  It’s funny because most people that aren’t training for Ironman say something like, “I could never swim or do a marathon, but I could do the bike part.”  Wrong!

I have a fairly strong bike background.  I road everywhere as a kid, and raced mountain bikes for a couple years.  20 and 40 mile off road races have definitely prepared me for some of this grind, but if I have any hope of reaching my “goal speed” I’d better get my shit together.  I often “put off” the bike because it’s my strongest event, but yesterday I finally realized how taxing it will be to ride hard for 112 miles.  The constant spinning, the decisions, the mental wear down.  The the heat, the flurry of foreign particles flying in your eyes, the grind of the steep hills.

This is no stroll in the park.   Another lesson remembered.