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
BTW- I so almost bought that wetsuit this weekend at Endurance House!