Confession. I consider quitting Ironman at least two or three times a week, sometimes more. Almost all of that consideration occurs between 5:45 and 6:00 in the morning. I've embraced the fact that I have very little capacity for positive self-talk in those first 10 minutes or so of the morning. We all have our personal prioritization around basic needs: sleeping, eating, resting, getting our groove on, etc. And if there's one thing for certain, it's that as I get older, sleep gets higher and higher on that list. Early in the morning, particularly with my habit of staying up later than I should, training always feels like a stupid thing to trade for sleep. I rarely have kind words for Ironman at 5:52 am, especially when it's dark and raining half the time.
Fortunately, I usually get over it pretty quickly. When I first started in triathlon, I was very racing focused, and the training was an ends-to-a-means. Today, racing still motivates me, but I've developed a great deal of attachment to training.
And races sneak up on me. Ironman Coeur d'Alene is in 12 days. My third Ironman in a little over a year. My training is quickly falling off into my taper. I've got a total of 30 minutes of training on my schedule for this weekend. 30 minutes! What's funny is I have this weird anxious feeling in my stomach when I think about it. But...but...what will I do with the rest of the weekend? I'm totally serious...it's like I can't think of anything else. This blog post is a cry for help.
This race has come around quickly for two reasons. One is that I've been so busy. Between training, a new role at work, and attending to the various basics listed above, the days just click right on by. But the second reason is that I've really been enjoying (most of) my training. It wasn't long ago I thought that maybe I was pretty close to my limits and all this work was just wasted time. What's seemed to happen over the last three months has totally changed my perspective there. Now I have no idea what the limit is, and a good feeling I'm not that close to it. I'm trying to enjoy that feeling before the next plateau shakes some reality into me. But it's incredibly motivating to have a string of workouts where you look at the numbers afterwards and go "nahhh...really?" It's those moments that keep me coming back for more.
But the reality is that next week we'll be headed to Coeur d'Alene. One thing that's often overlooked is that doing an Ironman is an extremely logistics-heavy exercise. There's so much stuff to bring from equipment to nutrition to extra clothes to tools. Fortunately this race (and IM Canada) are driving distance so it takes a lot of the guesswork out of it. Packing for a race where you need to get just the right stuff packed and onto the airplane is extra stress. It's like a Space Shuttle launch.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to getting over there and seeing some people that I don't get to see very often. We're staying in a house with two other couples: one couple are IM veterans, and another couple are building up towards IMC as their first race. Fortunately none of them will get tired of non-stop tri-talk. It's going to be a lot of fun. Once again, we'll be able to walk to transition on race morning, and this one might be the closest. That's three-for-three! And, being a native of nearby Spokane, I'll have a full contingent of friends and family nearby as well.
The entire Ironman experience really is an amazing thing, and something I'd recommend to anyone. There's something special about having that bracelet that gets you into everything and identifies you as an athlete, and there is just nothing like those minutes when you leave transition and quietly file out onto the beach, hear the National Anthem, and scan the thousands of spectators around the swim area. All I usually hear is my breathing and my heart beating. A weird thing happens in those few moments before the cannon goes off - it's like a switch in your head flips and your normal day-to-day self gets put on the back burner. There's a long list of cheezy cliches here that fit: game face, go time, race machine, all business, you've heard them all. But that's pretty much how it goes. The start of the swim usually sucks. Oh, another time I usually consider quitting Ironman: the first 5-10 minutes of the swim. Maybe this time I can keep the "geez, this is bullshit!" thoughts to a minimum and stay focused. Just. Think. Swimming. The rest of the day is pretty groovy and fun until about mile 85 or 90 on the bike when you want off of that bike like you won't believe. Then the real fun starts. It's all high-fives and Fonzies until around mile 16 or so on the run. Know this: Ironman doesn't start until the 1/2 way mark of the run. Up until then it's just a long training day. See, who wouldn't love this stuff!
I've been working out exactly what my pacing and data (power, heart rate) targets are for the race. Given that my fitness has been in flux, I'm kind of guessing on some of the numbers, but I'm pretty confident that they'll work out better. One thing I've been pretty good at historically is eyeballing my splits and pace for upcoming races and being very close to those on race day. So I've got an idea of where I think I'll end up, but I'll keep that to myself for now. I'm looking forward to finding out.