Posted by Erin 8:18 AM 1 comments

Deja Vu All Over Again
Thursday, June 28, 2007

Okay, so this post is a bit belated (and long) but I wanted to make sure and get it down because something tells me that in the months ahead, I'm going to want to draw on what happened a few times over.

Last week, I was suffering a serious case of the "blahs." Add to that the fact that it was beautiful out and my sister was coming to town and I was facing a two-loop ride on the infamous IM-Moo bike course on Saturday, and I didn't want to do an-y-thing Ironman-related.

My coach called on Thursday afternoon to check in and see how things were going. I grunted something along the lines of feeling wholly unmotivated and uninspired. She told me to take Thursday or Friday off completely to regroup. So, I trudged home Thursday after work with the idea that I'd sit myself on my trainer for two hours before my sister got there, and then reward myself with two nights of (moderate) fun with her afterwards.

But on the trainer, my legs just wouldn't go. I wasn't just unmotivated, I was slack with all-over fatigue. Nothing worked. I got almost the whole time in before my sister arrived, but I hated every single solitary minute of it. It was not pretty, and I'm quite certain, not effective in the least.

That night my sister, Chief of Stuff, and I hit Eno Vino, easily one of my favorite Madison-area restaurants. The next morning my sister and I went for breakfast before I had to work, and then I took off slightly early from work to run to the store with her and cook dinner after. All the while, the only thing I could think about was the impending 80-miler I had coming on Saturday...so much so that I couldn't even really enjoy myself. I just wanted it over.

Saturday morning dawned sunny and cool, and I said goodbye to my sister, who was planning on leaving after breakfast, and my dog, Leonard, whom she was taking with her back up to my parents' house for the remainder of summer (while I'm in IM training mode, he's at "summer camp" in the UP), and got in my car with the attitude of "I'm just going to get this done."

I parked where I usually do in Verona -- at the BP gas station on Whalen Road -- got on my bike, and...no computer. I mean, my bike computer was there, but wasn't registering anything. Arrrrghhhh. I fiddled with it for a while, and then just bagged the whole idea of knowing my pace or miles covered.

Looking back, I didn't have the greatest mental attitude out there. Turning onto Valley View Road, I thought to myself, I really hate this part of the course. Turning onto Rt. 92 I thought, I read somewhere that this stretch is almost all uphill. Perfect. And then, Arrgh, this is where all of the damn butterflies are. (There's a section that's just thick with beautiful Monarchs). Just past the sign for Cave of the Mounds outside of Mt. Horeb I thought, Oh-oh. This is where the big hill leading into town is. And turning onto Witte Rd. outside of town I thought, This is where things start getting really tough. And then I started thinking, I'm going to have to do this all all over again, and I wanted to cry, or scream, or just quit.

And then, somewhere past the turn I missed for Midtown Rd., things started to feel funny. My bike seemed like it was dragging, and there was an off sound. Slowing down, I felt my back tire. Flat. As a pancake, flat. And as marginally-proficient as I am at changing a front tire, I'm hopeless at the back one.

My initial plan was to wait for a fellow biker to whiz by, and when he/she asked if I needed help, to say "yes." But I was off the course and the packs of cyclists that dotted the course that morning were nowhere in sight. So I took out my cell phone to call CoS. No service.

Still hoping that someone would happen by, I started walking. I walked, and walked. I walked to the top of a hill. Still no service. So I kept walking. Still no other bikers. Kept walking. Finally, service. Called CoS, who offered to come get me. I'm sure, from his point of view, that he was probably thankful there at least wasn't any crying this time.

As a last-ditch effort, I figured I'd try to inflate the tire so I could at least ride a ways up. Or maybe it would even hold for the last five miles or so. But I hadn't screwed in the CO2 cartridge enough, or something, because when I tried that, it exploded air everywhere. Now, even another biker couldn't help.

So I took a seat on the curb and waited. And waited. And waited. And suddenly, of course, the road was ripe with cyclists asking if I needed help. "Ride's coming" I told each of them.

I kept checking the clock, calculating if I'd have enough time to get the tire fixed, drive back out to Verona, and tackle the second loop before leaving for Janesville for dinner plans I had. Long before my sister and CoS arrived, though, I had to abandon that plan.

It was 1 p.m. by the time I loaded my bike into the car. So I adjusted. I'd send my sister off, and hit the Y for the moderately-difficult swim set I had for the following day. I consoled myself with the fact that it was a little breezy out, and overcast -- not good sunbathing, relaxing weather anyway. And after convincing myself that I might as well be working out, the swimming went well.

But I had yet to tackle the back-to-back laps I had scheduled for that weekend on the bike.

*********************************

The next day I was dreading my workout more than ever. And I firmly believe that the only way I even got myself out on that course again was by not really acknowledging what I was about to do. I just kept telling myself, "It's 2 p.m. now. You're going to bike until 8 p.m.," and ticking off the hours that way.

It was hot -- hot-like-my-black-bike-shorts-are-going-to-be-singed-into-my-ass hot. And I was tired. Tired before I even got out there. But my computer was back in working order, and I tried to just focus on the numbers. Keep my speed above 15 mph on the flats or flat-ish areas, not let it drop below 10 on most of the hills, see how fast I could get going on the downhills.

The first lap was the worst, because all I could think about was that I had one more of these to go. And I didn't honestly know if I could do it.

Just finish this lap, I told myself, and then you can pack it in and go home. You don't HAVE to do two today.

Now, this was all mental. Overall, I felt good. But I wasn't into biking. I was lonely out there. I wanted to be by a pool, or cleaning my apartment, even. I didn't want to be on my damned bike any longer.

Then, somewhere around Old Sauk Pass Rd., a guy came up behind me, and instead of passing, just glided along beside me. We started chatting -- about biking, the wind (which, I had been too focused on other negative thoughts to even notice), the upcoming Dairyland Dare, and even restaurants. He lost me on one of the Bitch Hills, and afterwards I stopped for a water refill, but that brief bit of company remains one of the standout portions of my weekend.

I told myself then, that I'd stop at Fireman's Park in Verona, dip my feet in the lake while I ate my Clif Shots and salt tabs, and then I'd be off again...and done before it got dark. But Fireman's Park, I soon learned, is a lake you have to pay admission to!

Sitting in the grass outside the chainlink fence, looking at the water, I decided that this day -- this weekend -- really sucked. And then something changed. But you're doing it came the voice in my head.

I had three hours left in the time I had allotted. And that last lap was different. I was in Mt. Horeb before I even realized it. As a treat, I let myself buy anything I wanted from the Mobil Station. I chose cheese pretzel combos. (A funny aside -- walking up to the register in my biking garb, complete with helmet on, the cashier asked if I had gas outside. He soon caught himself, embarrassed, but it made me laugh for the next couple miles at least). Then, I found myself thinking things like "almost done" and "this is the last time you have to do this hill today." And struggling up the last Bitch Hill on Midtown Rd., I thought of how my sister, the day before, was so awed by the course...of how she said the hills were intimidating even in a car, and of how she said that she saw people walking the hills.

And this, my third trip up, and then down, them this weekend, and I was still pedaling.

Coming into Verona, I eased up on speed, and just relaxed. I smiled at people out for their evening walks with kids or dogs or both. They smiled back. I thought about how nice people here are, and about how I couldn't wait to ride that route with some of those same people -- along with my friends and family -- lining the streets. And about how today -- this day where I didn't want to from the beginning and overcame it all...this day where it was hot and beautiful and people everywhere were out enjoying it when I was sweating and working and hurting all alone -- this day would be the hardest. And I can handle anything now, because on September 9th out here, I will have company. There will be people cheering. I will get to see my friends and family regularly throughout the day, even if for seconds.

And it will all be worth it.

Final tally for the day:

• 80.4 miles
• 5 hours, 38 minutes
• 15.4 mph on lap one, 15.2 mph on lap two.

And as Melanie would say..."Check!"

Posted by Erin 8:11 AM 3 comments

Blah
Wednesday, June 27, 2007

That's how I've felt lately. Straight-up unmotivated and uninspired. Apathetic. Tired. Whiny, even.

The other day, when the absolute very last thing I wanted to do was get on my bike for an all-day ride and made a point of saying so -- often -- Chief of Stuff told me, "You chose this."

Helpful.

I know I did. I chose the intense 12-month training calendar, the time away from friends and family, the getting up early and/or going to bed late and doing-nothing-but-working-out willingly. I chose it to try and push myself to limits I probably don't yet know I have. I chose it to try and attempt the unthinkable, and I chose it knowing that that attempt would involve a lot of sacrifice.

But honest-to-god, there are some days when the sun is shining or the rain is pouring and I just want to be a normal person who can say, "I'm going to lay by the pool today and read a trashy magazine" or, "There's a great movie I want to see and, hey, let's go catch a matinee." And the thing is, I can say those things, and do them. But the rub is that, if I do, I spend the entire time not enjoying the magazine or movie, but worrying that I've derailed my goal with one lazy weekend. Again, my choice, I know. But go back and re-read the first sentence of this post.

My goals haven't necessarily changed. I still want to do this, accomplish this. Badly. And one of my goals is to train hard enough that I can enjoy -- as opposed to suffering through -- race day.

What seems to have changed is that my drive seems to have up and left. I'm still getting my workouts in, but every single one for the past two weeks has been an epic battle -- both mentally and physically -- to start, continue, and finish. There's no intensity, no zip. There's none of the previous random thoughts like "You are training for an Ironman! Kickass!" that used to get me all jazzed during a workout and as a result, up the intensity a bit.

I've been going through the motions, and I'm tired. Tired of doing that, of not having my usual zip.

My coach suggested taking a day off last week. I did. No zip.

Chief of Stuff suggested a fun bike ride around Lake Monona and through the Arb. I did it. No zip.

Last night, I ground out a nearly four-hour workout. It was supposed to be easy and I tried to make it fun, but by the time I got a lane in the pool at 9:20 p.m., I wanted to be anywhere but there. My arms felt like lead, and so did my eyes. And the whole while, I had the whole angel-devil debate going on inside my head: "You've worked out for almost three hours already, that's insane by normal-people standards...you should just go home and get a good night's sleep." / "You need these swim workouts...you don't want your race day to end at 9:30 a.m. because you didn't make the cutoff, do you? Or not to make the bike cutoff because you just eeeked out a 2:20 swim?" / "Just do half the workout, then. Better a good half workout than a half-ass full workout." / "You can't just do half. That's being lazy. It's five minutes to ten at night and you have no where else to be, so just do the last set of 100's. Just get it done." And on. And on.

So, I'm at a bit of a loss. I desperately want to get back to that place where training was fun, at least most of the time. Where I looked forward to the challenges I'd face on my demanding training days and celebrated overcoming them afterwards. Where I was inspired and enthused and motivated by something other than checking off a box on my training calendar. I've lost my way and gotten turned around, and now I'm just waiting for some kind of landmark or signal to tell me that I'm heading back in the right direction.

One of the things my coach assigned me to do is to find a training partner. Not for every day, but someone who can alleviate some of the long rides, and when I can (god-willing do them) long runs. I think this might help. A lot. It gets lonely out there all by oneself, with only oneself for company. And in addition, the next seven weeks are going to be a bitch: hard schedule, hard workouts, hard races.

So, we'll see if I have any luck, and if it works. Stay tuned...and keep your collective fingers crossed.

Posted by Erin 10:56 AM 2 comments

50 Tips...for One Day

This is from an article my coach provided for me. Some aren't relevant, but some are incredibly interesting and poignant...more to me, probably, which is why I'm positing it -- so I'll read these over and over again and not file the email away and forget about it.

In reading the list, though, I couldn't help but think, All this for only one day?

IRONMAN TRAINING TIPS

HERE ARE 50 TRAINING TIPS TO GET YOU TO THE FINISH LINE OF THE ULTIMATE TRIATHLON.......Are you a Super Athlete? If so this ARTICLE is not for you. Are you normal? Do you have a job, family plus limited training? Read on........

1. Train your mind as well as your body.

2. If you don't feel well, take a day, or a week, or whatever it takes off, until you are better. Training when you are unwell is the road to no-where.

3. It's better to get to the start line, healthy and slightly under prepared than unhealthy and over trained. You need to be hungry.... for this event.

4. Get to the race site two days before kick off and get a good nights sleep two nights before the race - don't bother going to the Pasta Party if it's the night before the race, because you are only going to get psyched out by "go faster" hair cuts......

5. Take your own emergency supplies of water and drink on the run.

6. Practice drinking and eating on the run during training and buy yourself a running belt.

7. Be prepared for a bad moment during the swim - relax, go onto your back and think your way out of the crisis before starting again slowly.

8. Be prepared for several bad moments during the bike. The second hour of the bike ride is the DANGER HOUR. The adrenaline rush from finishing the swim has dissipated and there is the dawning realization that there is a very long day ahead - with only two wheels for company. You must remember the big picture i.e.: the finish line.

9. Be prepared for MANY bad moments during the RUN - You can Slow Down and Walk at this stage.

* The Golden Rule is to keep on moving to the FINISH LINE. * See the marathon as a 13 Mile Shuffle. When you have got 1/2 way, every step is closer to NIRVANA, sorry the finish line. Try to jog for 8 mins, then walk for 1 or 2 mins. This means your ticking off a mile every 10 mins. This is 4.20 marathon pace, (I managed 4.13 in Aberfeldy using these tactics). * Walk before you have to, no matter how good you feel. Any one who says that they can run the entire marathon without stopping is seriously deluded. You must stay on the correct side of the red line.

10. Try to fool your body and your mind.

* During the swim, focus only on the swim. Reward yourself with a tick in a mental box, when you hit dry land. * During the bike, focus only on the bike. There is no point in worrying about the run because you are not actually on the run course. * During the run, think only of the finish line. It doesn't matter if you walk, shuffle, jog, limp etc.

11. Dave Scott never ran more than 13 miles between winning successive Hawaii races, so why should you? The key to your successful completion of an Ironman is open water swimming and long bike rides. You can always walk during the so-called run stage. The more running you do in training, the higher the chance of injury.

12. Use Vaseline on all your moving parts in T2 before starting the run. Put on running socks with the greatest of care. If you rush, you will put them on in such a way that you will blister. You will have enough to worry about for 4 or 5 hours of the marathon other than avoidable and unnecessary blisters. If one part of your body hurts particularly (hamstrings, Achilles, wrists, whatever,) focus on everything in your body that is not suffering. Think how great it is that your, for instance, trapezius muscle is absolutely fine.

13. Have a hot shower before the race starts to get your muscles warmed up.

* Do not do a run warm up. It does not make a lot of sense at 5.00 a.m. if it's going to be a good 7 or 8 hours before you're actually putting on your running shoes for real.

14. Try to get a hot shower after the swim. It gets rid of the salt/slime, but also is a reward for your efforts so far. It's something to look forward to during the swim.

15. Reward yourself during the bike. What is your favorite snack? If it's a doughnut, then carry one with you as a reward for getting to mile 56 mile/mile 80/mile 100 whatever. If you feel like you need a reward every 10 miles, then get off your bike to go the loo, stretch your legs etc. i.e.: you control the race. It must not be allowed to control you. You're in charge, not it.

16. If you are a coffee fan, then make up a flask of black coffee with several spoonfuls of sugar and leave it in T1 or T2 and have a cup. It not only acts as a reward but also peps you up for the next few miles.

17. If it's hot during the race, think how tough it is for all of your race rivals, but not for you, because you have trained for exactly these conditions.

18. If it's cold and wet and windy during the race, think how tough it is for all your race rivals but not for you, because you have trained for exactly these conditions.

19. Forget 17 and 18 because you do not have any race rivals. Be prepared to be beaten by a Granny with a shopping basket on a "sit up and beg" bike. The only think that matters is You getting to the finish line. Focus on you and do something about your race. You can't control anybody else's race, just yours.

16 Reward yourself after the bike. Grab a hot shower, it will take 5 minutes max and you will more than make this time up on the run because you will feel so good. You are trying to fool your body into thinking you have had a seven-hour sleep as opposed to a 7-hour bike ride and that you are now ready for a wee jog.

17. Practice Swimming the distance in the pool. In fact do the 5K Swimathon in March. This is a great physiological plus. You will then know that on race day you have already covered more than the race distance.

18. Practice open water swims and get up to one hour done in the water.

19. Dress for a bike ride for the bike section. You may have bought a very snazzy pair of trunks and a very thin vest that shows off your golden tan, but you are going to do a 112-mile on a bike, so dress appropriately. You will probably be cold for the first hour of the ride if you are competing your Ironman race in the British Isles - why not use arm warmers?

20. Do not attempt to take food and drink for the whole 112 miles of the ride, otherwise your bike will weigh the same as a Sherman Tank. If the first feed station is at mile 20, then just take food and drink for 25 miles. Have you practiced taking food and drink with one hand from a Marshall at a roadside? Thought not, so get off your bike (again, see it as a reward) and take what you need to get you to the next feed station.

21. Not withstanding 20, squirrel away an emergency energy bar in your puncture pouch underneath your seat.

22. Learn to eat and drink plenty on bike training runs. If you train sensibly at low speed and you are eating and drinking enough, then your 50/60/70 mile training rides should not see you crawling over your back door on your hands and knees.

23. Build up to a 5-week cycle. * Week 1 - swim the distance during the week in 2 or 3 sessions, plus one bike ride, plus one run i.e.: you can have up to 3 days off that week. * Week 2 - cycle the distance in 2 or 3 sessions, plus one swim, plus one run. * Week 3 - run the distance in 2 or 3 sessions, plus one swim and one bike. * Week 4 - this is a reward/rest week. Just have one swim, one bike, and one run * Week 5 - the biggest week so far. Do the race distance inside 7 days. Make sure this week coincides with an easy family/work week. Get a "week 5" in at least 4 to 6 weeks before the main event. You should however, still be doing a 60 or 70 miler 2 to 3 weeks before the event.

24. You will run the chance of injury if you persist in long runs after long bikes. You are training for a long swim followed by a long bike, followed by a long jog/walk on race day only.

25. GETTING TO THE FINISH LINE IS WINNING THE RACE.

26. Do the three-day Ironman organized by the Triangle Club in May, again it's a physiological plus. You will of course be under prepared for this, but you must learn how to suffer.

27. Adapt your long sessions for suitable days in your calendar, but it is sometimes absolutely positively essential to go out and do a long ride in appalling weather. After all you cannot pick your weather for race day. You must be prepared for every conceivable condition that may afflict you on race day.

28. Finishing the Ironman is 65% physical preparation, 30% mental preparation and 5% luck. You need a little bit of luck, but sometimes the more sensibly you train the luckier you get.

29. Do some short races earlier in the season. You will do surprisingly well coming off a long training regime.

30. Although you can't train long and hard with speed work (because you will just break down and get injured or get a cold) don't throw out the speed work altogether. Why not throw in a week of speed sessions in all three sports so that you know your training will be short and sharp and you will be in the shower several hours ahead of schedule.

31. You stand more chance of getting a cold than of getting injured. Take cod liver oil, a multi vit and/or Elagen Sport. Do not try anything you don't trust. You could do a lot worse than simply eating 5 bits of fruit/vegetable daily. The answer to you getting to that elusive finish line does not lie in a box of pills but inside your head - and heart.

32. Cut out the mult vits 24 hours before the race, they will just make you need to go the loo a lot more on race day.

33. Carry a loo roll in your kit bag on race day.

34. You will be convinced in the week leading up to race day that you are coming down with the lurgy/dengi fever/hong kong flu. This feeling is normal. This is simply a case of Rampant Race Paranoia.

35. You will be very tired for up to a week before race day. Again this is entirely normal, your body does not want to use any extra energy or go up the stairs at work. It is already trying to save all necessary energy for race day. Your body and mind are a lot smarter than you think they are.

36. Get your bike sorted out early in the year. It doesn't have to make Lance Armstrong green with envy, it just has to be comfortable. * Don't sacrifice Comfort for Potential Speed. * Your aim is to get to the FINISH LINE, not break a world record.

37. Do you need a new pair of running shoes? They say you should replace them every 500 miles. Get them well worn in before race day.

38. Who loves you? Can you get them to the race site? You will get an indescribable lift by seeing them after the swim, during the bike and the run and especially on the finish line. It's as much their victory as yours, when you cross that finish line.

39. On race day, make a game plan, stick to it.

40. Have game plan no. 2, 3, 4 & 5 up your sleeve if you need it. Be prepared to adapt, adopt and improve on race day. Go with the flow. Conditions may be different to your training, these are outside your control.

41. Err on the side of caution, always keep something in reserve. Do not get sucked into a macho "race". You have no idea if the plonker passing you at mile 2 on the bike has any more experience of doing an Ironman than you have.

42. YOU WILL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET TO THE FINISH LINE (Repeat this line 100 times after school)

43. You cannot win the race during the first 5 mins of the swim, but you can lose it, take it easy, keep the breathing under control and get into a routine.

44. In the swim, all you have to do is swim 1 more minute; on the bike ride all you have to do is cycle 5 more miles; on the run all you have to do is jog one more mile i.e.: give yourself realistic bite sized targets when the going gets tough. Don' t think of the enormity of what lies ahead of you, think of what you can do at this very moment during the race to control your destiny. All you need is one more stroke, one more spin and one more stride.

45. Eat whatever you like, whenever you like, during your training; the odd glass of wine after training will not do you any harm either. As important as swim/bike/run, is rest and especially sleep. Go to bed on the same day you got up.

46. Get to the GYM - its enjoyable and you need a strong back and a strong set of ABS during the second half of the race.

47. You have to be selfish to train for and to complete an Ironman - remember that and recognize that fact and apologize to your loved ones in advance.

48. If you have anything left in the tank, pour it out gradually from mile 20 on the walk/jog.

49. Smile as you cross the finish line and thank your family/toy boy for all their support, then have a good cry to yourself.

50. Do not think about training for 3 weeks, or racing for 6. Reward yourself. Get back to Normal. Do not feel guilty about not training. This is what you trained for........

51. Just remember, no one ever said it would be easy.

Posted by Erin 9:57 AM 0 comments

Why?
Thursday, June 21, 2007

There is one question that I get most often when people learn that I'm training to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles, and run a marathon all in one day: Why?

There are all sorts of undertones that come with this question: "You must be crazy" is most common. Others include, "How are you going to do that?", " Why would you put yourself through something like that?" or, "I don't think I could/would ever do that and so, perhaps, no one should."

I've covered the variations on that question with a variety of people, and mostly the answer I give is the one I explained on day one of this incredible journey.

Recently, though, a friend posed a much better, more insightful question to me: "What about this could you possibly enjoy?"

I'm well aware that on this blog, I complain. A lot. I complain about being sore. I complain about being scared. I complain about having no time for myself or anyone else. I complain that it's too hot, too cold, or too windy. I complain that I didn't run/bike/swim fast enough, or enough, period.

I do this for a few reasons. It's how I cope. It's the kind of person I am (you'll rarely, if ever, see me waxing all Mary Poppins or Pollyanna about much of anything). And, frankly, it's cathartic.

But there are unbelievably enjoyable things involved in attempting an Ironman. Some are "wow am I glad that's over with and I survived" type of enjoyable. Others are of the "I honestly can't believe how lucky I am to be right here, right now" variety.

So, to answer that question, which I've given loads of thought to lately, here's my list of what I love so far about the process of Ironman:

Marking time not by dates or seasons, but by workouts and how I have to dress for them

That I intimately know, and like, the fresh-clean/chlorine smell of the Y's women's locker room -- it, for some strange reason, is a comforting smell;

Knowing that each day I have a goal to meet, and that if I meet enough of them, it will inevitably pay off;

Knowing that although my clothes are fitting differently, I don't care because I feel fit and because I am strong (and because eventually, my body will be back to normal);

That I now consider a 3-hour workout "light" and an hour of working out practically a "rest day;"

Knowing that my body is capable of spending seven-and-a-half hours on a bike, and doing a sprint race less than 12 hours later;

Seeing deer, turkeys, foxes, moles, a just-born baby calf, and so many beautiful landscapes from outside the confines of a car...in the fresh winter, spring, and summer air;

That I intrinsically and intimately know just how far one mile is, and that it feels a whole lot farther in water than on land;

My new, limited-edition wetsuit that's not only really cute, but benefits the Susan G. Komen Foundation;

My routine of lounging in the hot tub and reading a magazine before swim workouts at the Y;

Finishing a long bike, salt and sweat coating my face and sun having kissed (or sometimes made out with) my arms and legs, feeling exhausted and excited and tough all at once because I went that far – and even better, a shower and nap or relaxing, fun night afterwards.

The melodic sound of lap swim at the pool.

The predictable, rhythmic stroke-breathe-stroke-exhale pattern of swimming laps.

The way my legs feel running off the bike, like two columns of bricks, and that I know if I just suffer through and shuffle along long enough, they’ll soon feel like they’re supposed to again.

That on September 9th, I'll be able to a) show my family and friends that I'm not crazy, and b) to share the magic of this thing called Ironman, that so captivated me, with all of them -- all of them who are planning to travel here to support me and allow me to lean on them through what promises to be the longest, toughest day of my life to date.

That regardless of how September 9th goes -- regardless of if I don't make it in in under 17 hours; or don't make the swim cutoff, the bike cutoff, or the half-marathon cut-off; regardless of if my body cramps up and/or shuts down; or I blow too many tires to count -- regardless, I love knowing that I will be one of only 30,000 people worldwide to even attempt this race this year. I will be in the less than .000005 percentage of the population to put in these hours, to give up my early mornings, nights out with friends, and holidays with my family in an attempt to accomplish this.

And because I know I can -- I can pick out a number of miles, or a spot on the map, and with enough GU and water I can get there on my very own. I can set my mind to do something -- even something as huge as a 1.5 mile swim or a 22-mile run or a 120-mile bike ride -- and get it done.

Finally, I love that, even though from my point of view -- smack dab in the middle of this -- tackling the Ironman has seemed almost impossible at times, but that I have learned to take little baby steps along the way -- a one-hour spin here and 20 minute swim there, learning to clip in to my bike pedals without falling over, or that my hands need to enter the water pinkie-first -- that have gotten me to this point where I know that I am strong, and I most definitely can.

Posted by Erin 1:45 PM 2 comments

One With the Bike
Thursday, June 14, 2007

Biking, lately, has been getting better, but it didn't start out as a love-fest (loved my bike, but not the actual spending of time on it). A friend of mine who recently bought a bike , partially because he was inspired by my initial bike love and partially because he was in need of finding an alternative to lots of running wrote yesterday to say he "still isn't sold on it."

Posted by Erin 9:40 AM 0 comments

Fear, Part II
Monday, June 11, 2007

"Fear grows in darkness; if you think there's a bogeyman around, turn on the light." ~Dorothy Thompson

Since the last post on fear, I think I've turned on a few lights.

It started Thursday night at Master's. Since we don't get the whole pool until right at 8 o'clock on Thursdays and the few available lanes are often crowded with really good, really fast swimmers, I tend to hit the hot tub for a "warm-up," as do quite a few others. This was especially appropriate after a really hard (i.e. I was really tired) hour-long spin session right before, and I was using my hot tub time to stretch.

The coach came over, singled me out, and told me I should be in the pool. "I was stretching," I told him. He said that the purpose of a warm-up was to warm up. "I'm plenty warm," I said. He pointed to the pool.

This made me crabby. After last week's conversation -- the one where he insinuated that he wasn't at all worried about the other guy training for IM-Moo, but the jury was still out on me -- I wasn't all that keen on Master's. I wasn't all that keen on him. But slipping into the cool pool water felt good, and I told myself that in an hour I'd get to go home (even though I know practice is never an hour, and is usually closer to an hour and a half at least, it helps when I lie to me).

I was almost done with the warm-up set when I saw the coach staring down at me over the starting block. Oh, for the love! I thought. How could I have been messing something up on the warm-up!?

"Erin, what's your goal for the Ironman swim?" he asked.

I told him I'd just like to finish, maybe in under two hours.

He laughed.

Did he think two hours was overreaching? Was I that poor of a swimmer? "Well, maybe you could tell me. You're the professional here," I said.

A couple of years ago, he said he had a terrible swimmer attempt the Ironman. He thought she might not make it at all. She finished in 1:48.

"You're much, much stronger than that," he said. "Aim for under 1:30 at least."

I was floored, but ecstatic. He did have confidence in me! I wasn't in over my head!

One light, on.

Then, on Saturday, after putting it off for most of the morning, I decided to tackle the dreaded Ironman bike course again.

Driving out to Fitchburg/Verona, I was in a bit of denial about what I was going to do. I had loaded up on Clif shots and bars, salt tabs, etc. (not going to make that mistake twice), but I didn't even know if I had the map and directions with me. In all honesty, I think that deep down I was hoping I didn't, and then I could just pick a road and bike out to say, Dodgeville, or Monroe. The directions were right where I had left them, though -- in my console -- and I figured that I was now committed.

The initial ten to fifteen miles went a little faster than they had before, but they are miles filled with steep little hills, lots of turns, and lots of wind. I was not happy to be out there and seriously doubted if I'd be able to get this done.

But before I realized it, I was biking out of Mt. Horeb and onto County S. I found the turn on Witte Road that I had missed the last time. I was feeling good, on to the section of the course that I hadn't ever done -- new uncharted territory. And at the end of Witte Road was...nothing. Once again, no street sign where one should be. No sign within sight in either direction.

I called Chief of Stuff, but he was having his own bike dilemma -- trying to fit his bike into his back seat. Just then, I heard a car pull up behind me and ask if I needed help. I turned around to see some friends who had been out driving the course. They had stopped in Mt. Horeb to grab me a Gatorade, and pulled out the atlas so we could figure out what road Witte Rd. had teed into. Then, one of them, an Ironman veteran of 2005, showed me a couple more spots on the atlas where he would often get turned around that were still to come. They gave me their cell phone in case I needed any other assistance, and sent me on my way.

The rest of the route was largely uneventful. I was nervous about the Garfoot Road stretch -- I had heard about its famed "bitch hills" -- but found most of that road through to Cross Plains relatively easy going with some unbelievably fun/somewhat scary descents. This isn't to say that there weren't hills or they weren't tough going -- because the entire IM-Moo course is dotted with them -- but none stood out to me more than any others. There weren't any that brought me to my knees.

About 2/3 of the way in, the Chief of Stuff joined me for the last stretch. With him on his mountain bike/hybrid, it was a little slower going than the rest of the course (poor guy was pedaling as hard as he could, but a mountain bike/road bike match up just isn't fair), but I didn't let that bother me. This ride was all about just getting it done. Knowing the full course. Time in the bank. Confidence. Check.

Two lights, on.

And then today, in a meeting, I opened up a piece of Dove chocolate (I know this does nothing for the whole, "I want to be as light as possible on race day," thing [that currently doesn't seem to be catching on anyway], but sometimes Monday chocolate is a necessity) and the inside wrapper prophetically read, "You're allowed to do nothing."

Between this and the great email I got over the weekend, I think the universe is trying to tell me something.

Got it. Three lights, on. Making progress.

Posted by Erin 8:40 AM 2 comments

How Many Friends Does it Take to Train for an Ironman?

I have some very smart -- and very good -- friends. This is an email I got from one of them over the weekend:

Hey Erin. I just read your blog entry about riding the bike for 7 hours and then deciding to do a triathlon the next morning, and your discouraging moment with your masters coach that you greeted with a long, hard swim instead of the planned shorter and easier one...and it made me think of my friend John.

Yesterday was an absolutely perfect day. I had an invite to go pontooning, to brunch, and to play cards at the Union Terrace. I was tired, and a little sore from my Saturday workout. And so, I decided to forgo my 30 minute easy bike and 20 minute swim, and just relax. I felt better about that decision than tacking the extra 60 minutes on to my swim workout last week.

So, duly noted, my friend, and thank you.

A thank you, also, to Darin and Mindy. They found me on my Saturday ride, prepared with a Gatorade refill and a detailed atlas. They helped me figure out where I was (again, stupid unmarked roads), Darin gave me a heads-up about another confusing section yet to come that always got him turned around when he was training for this thing, and sent me on my way with their cell phone numbers in case I needed remote atlas help.

And another to Chief of Stuff, who rode the last 20 miles of my bike route with me on Saturday, on a mountain bike. 'Nuff said.

This is clearly the most team-like non-team sport around, and I couldn't do what I'm doing without all those around me.

Posted by Erin 7:41 AM 0 comments

Fear
Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Posted by Erin 1:11 PM 0 comments

Trinity Triathlon Race Report
Tuesday, June 05, 2007

So, after putting in more than seven hours on the bike last Friday, I decided at midnight that night to do the Trinity Triathlon the next morning. Since I was exhausted on so many levels, I decided it would be a good opportunity for a) getting a swim start in, and b) doing a little active recovery. I didn't even have my running shoes with me or an extra pair of socks. I ended up using an old pair or runners that I had turned into barn shoes and threw my soaking socks from Friday into the dryer for a few minutes.

For some crazy reason, I was up at 5:30 a.m. on Saturday, and couldn't get back to sleep. So I got up, organized my gear, and grabbed a breakfast bar. At 6:30, we headed off to find Spencer Lake, which proved more difficult than we'd originally thought. But with a scheduled start of 8 a.m., it was a relaxing morning regardless. We had plenty of time to register, organize our transition areas, and get down to the beach for the point-to-point swim start.

The lake is spring fed, so I knew it would be cold. But the cold ended up being a bigger shock than I had expected. Since the race was so short, I didn't wear a wetsuit, and diving in, it somewhat took my breath away. I also quickly realized how easy it was to get off-course when you're on the outside. When, for the second time, the guy I was following led me astray, I swam more to the middle of the pack and followed Darin, fellow weekend cabin-goer from Madison and 2006 Ironman-Moo alumn.

I was surprised at how much trouble I had with the swim. I'm not sure if it was due to the cold or to the fact that I didn't want to be last out of the water in the last heat and was scrambling a bit. Perhaps both. In any case, though, I couldn't catch my breath. But it was so short that it was over before it even really got started, and then we were out of the water and sprinting up flagstone steps leading to the transition area. 1/8th mile in 3:28, which was almost exactly middle of the entire pack overall.

As it turned out, I wasn't the last person out of the water or out of transition, which felt good. I threw on my bike jersey, helmet, and shoes, and headed out. Not the fastest transition, but I kept telling myself that this was simply an active recovery day. When you get out there, though, it's so hard not to really race it.

And on the bike, that's what I did. For a good ten miles or so, I felt great -- pushed a high gear, kept a high cadence, and maintained 18+ mph. I picked up time and passed a handful of people at least. And then (Notice how there's always an, "and then"?) I just got tired. I'm sure the hills toward the end didn't help, or the torrential downpour that started right about mile 12. But at that point, I relaxed my need to compete and just rode. And man, did that feel good! The downpour, however, was a different story. I actually complained, out loud, to myself, that I had just about had it with being wet -- half the ride up the day before, and now again...arrrgh! It was still pouring when I pulled into T2. Fifteen miles at 54:03 -- an average of 14.5 mph.

I was debating even starting the run, given the trouble I'd had on my run the weekend before. Besides, I had biked a hell of a long ways the day before and had been actively recovering for nearly an hour, I reasoned. AND it was straight-out pouring rain, and what I really wanted to do was dry off and start the weekend fun. But, since I couldn't determine if I was making this decision out of true concern for my own well-being, or out of a desire to just get dry and comfy with a beer in my hand, I decided to bite the bullet and just run.

T2 was slow (although to figure out how slow I'd have to do more figuring than I'd care to do, as transition times weren't recorded), because I took time to remove my now soaking socks and try to cover my garmin and transition bag. By that time, though, everything in my transition area looked as though it has been dropped in the lake. Later, I would discover my phone in the bottom of my bag, completely soaked and unresponsive (and later yet, it would dry out and start working again).

Less than a mile into the run, though, I knew I had made the wrong call. Not because of the still-pouring rain or my squishing shoes, but because of my left knee and hip. These are the two post-marathon problems I've been left with -- my patella feels like someone is stabbing a knife into it on when it bends or when the attached foot strikes the ground, and my hip feels like the ball is too big for the socket. Very enjoyable experiences all-around. Since I want a shot at running a good portion of the Ironman marathon, I'm not taking either injury on.

So I slowed to a walk, until I would get shamed into running by the super-cheery volunteers trying to encourage me that "I could do this!" and "Just a little bit more!" and to "Just have faith!" I know they meant well, but it was annoying. I wanted to run. Running is my thing...and my stupid body wouldn't letting me. I'd hobble a bit, trying to keep my left leg as straight as possible, and then slow back down, until I'd get shamed into hobbling along again. That cycle continued for a full 35 minutes and 35 seconds. Slowest 5k I've ever, ever done. But, whatever. All in all, it was a ton of fun and a great race -- well-run by the nicest group of people you'd ever want to meet.

Tangent: Andy, another of the cabin group who was doing the race, had a hilarious experience on the run. There was no one else on the section of road except one woman who had made the turn-around and was heading toward him. She started yelling, from far-off: "They're going to tell you that you're almost there. They're going to tell you that you're almost done. Don't believe them!" At this point, Andy looked around to see who she was yelling at...but there was no one else. She kept on: "They LIE! They lied to me, and they're going to lie to you! You're not almost done. You're not even close. They lied!" And on and on. When Andy passed the race volunteer who must've "lied," he didn't get a peep out of him. Apparently this woman gave him a piece of her mind. Pretty funny stuff.

Ok, so that's the unexciting summary of the Trinity Triathlon -- with pictures from the event below (can't upload them, so sorry for the links). We capped off the day with breakfast at a local greasy spoon, a nap, some sitting on the dock in the sun, having a few beers while playing Five Straight, grilling out, making Strip and Go Nakeds (vodka, beer, and mike's hard lemonade mixed, chilled, and served up in a fancy-dancy coffee pot), and heading to the Harbor Bar with my good friend from St. Norbert, Patrick, later that night.

Honestly, couldn't have asked for a better weekend!

Pictures:

Chief of Stuff, in spectating mode: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712440&image_id=120

Darin on the bike: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712220&image_id=263

Me on the bike: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712220&image_id=341

Andy on the bike: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712220&image_id=347

Darin in T2: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=533

Darin Post-run: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=248

Darin Finishing: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=256

Erin Finishing: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=399

http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=403

Erin Post-Run: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=398

Almost the whole crew (L to R: Darin, me, CoS Aaron, Mindy, and Darin's mom) trying to stay out of the rain: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=507

http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=508

Andy, finishing the run: http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=522

http://www.printroom.com/ViewGalleryPhoto.asp?userid=ekade&gallery_id=712242&image_id=524

Posted by Erin 1:10 PM 1 comments

More Vicarious Bogging -- Marathon Pics
Monday, June 04, 2007

Posted by Erin 1:21 PM 1 comments

A Century and Then Some

It's been a rough couple of weeks inside my head.

After a horrible long bike, a sub-par marathon, and a less-than-encouraging comment from my master's coach, I started wondering what the hell I was doing attempting an Ironman. Daily -- hourly -- I would question if I wasn't in over my head, how/why I thought that I could do this, and if I wasn't just wasting my time (and a whole lot of money). I was frustrated and despondent and overwhelmed. There was a lot of feeling sorry for myself. There were tears.

And then, there was this past weekend.

A group of friends was headed up to Waupaca to compete in the Trinity Triathlon on Saturday morning and hang out by the lake for the rest of the weekend. They invited Chief of Stuff and me along.

I was scheduled for a six-hour bike ride and, after checking Mapquest and consulting with my boss, I hatched a plan: I would start out on Friday afternoon from Madison on my bike and pedal as close to Waupaca as I could. If I timed things right, the caravan could simply pick me up about 6 hours in to my ride and transport me the rest of the way. I would have my long bike ride in on Friday, do a little active recovery in the form of a sprint triathlon the next day, and have the rest of the weekend to nap, grill out, and perhaps have a drink or two. In short, it was a chance to generally just enjoy myself and have a little fun -- something that's been in short supply during the majority of this training season.

After the last disaster that was my 5-hour ride, I did a lot of research on what might have gone wrong and decided I needed to concentrate on two important things: 1) nutrition, and 2) keeping a smooth, easy cadence -- no pushing unreasonably low gears, ever.

I packed enough to take in 200 calories an hour: one Hammer bar, two Clif bars, two packages of Clif shot blocks, and 10 Hammer Endurolyte capsules. I had one water bottle and one with Gatorade, as well as a package of Heed and some Nuun tabs. In looking at the map, I figured that, going up Highway 22, I could make a stop in small towns along the way -- like Wyocena, Montello, and Wautoma -- to refill my fluids. The plan was to stop briefly every hour to eat and take two Endurolytes, and to drink Gatorade on the bike in-between in 20 minute intervals.

The ride was perfect. Once on Highway 22 in North Leeds, the traffic thinned out, the sky became overcast, and I got down to business, trying to spend as much time in my aerobars as possible. The first hour flew by, and before I knew it I was stopping for my first scheduled break. I wasn't hungry, or thirsty, but I had a plan and I was sticking to it. I pulled over on the side of the road in front of a Saddlebred farm, scaring a very pretty but skittish sorrel horse who was standing by the fence. The semis booming past didn't phase it at all, but my bike, or helmet (or bike shorts?) sent it galloping to the far side of the pasture.

Back on the bike a few minutes later, I spent the time looking forward to the next hour's break, reminding myself to drink, and reveling in what a great afternoon it was. Later that night, over sloppy joes, one of my fellow cabin-goers would ask me what I thought about for more than a handful of hours on a bike, by myself. And the answer, I'm afraid, wasn't very exciting: I would concentrate on my nutrition, check my speed, pay attention to my cadence and form, stare at the white line, and try to get the Willy Porter's "The Give Song" out of my head (no joke -- 100+ miles of "Give your goodwill and goodwill goes on and on.") Before and during hill climbs I'd try my best to keep my heart rate from spiking and my legs fresh. And every once in a while I'd look around and smile -- amazed at the view, and at what I was doing.

Coming into Waushara County, I realized that this was where my friend Anne's cottage was where we had spent a few amazing weekends last summer and thought, I'm a really long way from home (See...told you my thoughts weren't all that exciting). Not long after that, I pulled into Wautoma, and exclaimed out loud, "Kickass!" I knew I was close to Waupaca -- given my speed and how many hours I had logged, I figured I had 20 or 25 miles to go, at the most.

I pulled into a Mobil station to refill my water. A man behind me in line asked where I was going, and I told him. "Woah," he said. "That's a hike. Where did you start?"

"Aahhh, Madison," I said.

His eyes got big. "No way! You didn't leave today, did you?" I nodded, he shook his head, and then wished me luck, still shaking his head as he walked away.

I got a text message from CoS saying the caravan hadn't even left Madison yet, so I called my friend Patrick, a Waupaca native who was coincidentally going to be home that very weekend. I asked how far I was from Waupaca, and he assured me that I was "almost there" and that "Wautoma is a suburb of Waupaca." We made plans to try to meet up either later that night or the next day, and I got back on my bike.

It was just after 7 p.m.. After six full hours of riding, I still felt good. Well, most of me still felt good. The old sitter wasn't so happy about being back in the saddle, but overall, I had great energy, no back/shoulder pain, and as fresh of legs as I could hope for after that long of a workout.

Then it started to rain. It had rained on and off for about half of the trip thus far -- but it was a light, misty rain most of the time. This rain was all about big drops that pelted you on their way down and a stiff wind. Pedaling against the wind, I was starting to get tired, and it was starting to get dark.

I rode past little towns like Wild Rose, and Rural, and King. I watched large tracts of farmland give way to newly-built homes, but it wasn't getting urban quickly enough. All the while I was expecting to see a "Welcome to Waupaca" sign around every bend. What I would find, though, were a few more homes and a lot of trees and road stretched out in front of me. It felt like the longest 20 miles ev-er.

I looked down and realized that I had put in at least an hour more of biking in than was scheduled. I was soaked straight through, and Waupaca didn't seem to be getting any closer.

I called CoS. "Where are you? I'm way past done," I said. Luckily, he was only about 10 miles behind, and by the time I got my front bike wheel off and unhooked my helmet, he was picking me up at the intersection of Highway 22 and Old Highway 22. And when I learned that I was less than two miles outside of town, I was positively giddy. Google maps measured my route at 116 miles. Even without finishing the last two, I was well over the Ironman bike distance of 112 miles, and I felt really, really great. No soreness, no typical post-workout yuck (that general all-over off feeling that I tend to get more often than most).

Best of all, I had my confidence back. Although that long of a workout is never "easy," I had no problems. Mentally, physically, and emotionally, I was in great shape throughout. And although that route wasn't as much of a roller-coaster as the IM-Moo course, it had enough hills so that I couldn't dismiss it as flat, or easy.

So, with that ride under my belt I think I'm finally -- finally! -- ready to take another swing at the Ironman course. Even better, I'm done with being overwhelmed and scared. Back in the saddle and all that.

Posted by Erin 8:17 AM 2 comments