I quit my job two weeks ago and have an Ironman in nine days. I have a million conflicts in my mind and for some reason, not many have been falling onto the page. And that’s bad, because I truly believe writing about triathlon has helped me nearly as much as the blood and sweat.
I am infinitely more relaxed about this Ironman than I was my first. Finishing doesn’t scare me. But I’m not convinced that’s a good thing.
Last year I trained 9 solid months. This year I have been in and out due to injuries and even took 10 Days of Rest in the middle of training. I am calm, but that doesn’t mean I am confident.
I have swam 2.4 miles twice in my life. Once in training last year and once at Ironman Wisconsin. I haven’t come close this year, but feel frequent shorter swims have made me a better swimmer. I’m excited and curious to see how that plays out.
I have ridden 112 miles twice in my life. Both last year as well.
My longest in 2014 is 77 miles, but I also feel like I am a stronger cyclist now. I’ve certainly been “on” the bike more in the last couple months and hope my intense focus on riding in aero pays off in Louisville.
And, if you like drama, intrigue, conflict, and mystery, keep an eye locked on Iron Trac during my run. I’ve been fighting injuries for most of the summer and walking more than running. Just as I was easing back to the pavement, I hurt my ribs so I shelved running until race day. My longest training run of the year is 12 miles, and that was two months ago. In 9 days I’ll run 26.2.
I fueled on fear for Wisconsin. I chased the finish line and medal with reckless abandon. It lifted me higher than I’d been in years. I thought I had arrived. But Ironman and life don’t go away.
I was overly confident at New Orleans 70.3 in March and it ate me alive. I vowed never to take a race lightly again.
That said, I believe confidence is the most important thing in Ironman. You have to believe or you’re setting yourself up to fail.
So, 9 days out, I’m drinking coffee with bruised ribs and thinking about the swim line up at Ironman Louisville. I’ve been there as a spectator so I know how it feels. It’s intimidating and breathless as you stand there offering support, but putting on the race gear gives me confidence.
You dial in to face a crafty enemy. Silent, omnipresent, resiliant. It’s a war of attrition. There are no guarantees, but if you stay focused, respect the race, and believe in yourself, you will win the battle. You will raise your hands high and celebrate victory, but the war is never over.
