In Spite of It All --or-- Day Two of the Next Four Weeks
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Last night I was scheduled for an easy two hours on the bike, a mile open water swim, and an hour run.
I switched things around a bit, doing 1.5 hours of intervals on the bike, on the trainer, because I just wanted to pedal and not think up a route or deal with gearing up and because I haven't watched Oprah in a really long time (there, I said it). And because I just can't do an easy 2 hours on the trainer. I'm either in interval mode or nothing. If I'm just pedaling without a plan or set workout, I inevitably find myself barely pedaling, engrossed in some random show. So, intervals it was.
I warmed up for 15 minutes, and then did the 'ol "pedal as hard as you can during the show and recover during the commercials" plan for an hour. Now, these were obviously not technical intervals, but I read this in Bicycle magazine or something once...which means it's a real workout. And in any case, timed intervals or not, it was hard. It kicked my ass by the end. Try it and see -- I dare you.
Then it was off to Lake Wingra to meet my open water group, which this Wednesday night, consisted of me and one other person. After trying to cram my sweaty self into my wetsuit (difficult at best), we were off for our mile swim. I had great intentions of doubling the workout to get in two miles (unsure as to why, except that mentally it makes me feel better to do that sometimes), when, on like my fifth stroke, I got a killer kink in my neck. The kind where you can't turn your head. The kind that makes your shoulder and arm hurt when you move it. The kind feels like trying to swim through it just might kill you.
But I did. I pressed on. Through the wind and the chop and the pain in my neck/shoulder/arm every time I took a stroke on my left side. And with the exception of all that, I felt great. I didn't get tired. I didn't get winded. I kept a relaxed, methodical stroke, and before I knew it I had reached the opposite end of the lake.
So I turned around, only to find that the chop seemed to be holding me in place. I honestly was picking out markers on each side of me to see if I was making any forward movement whatsoever, because it just didn't feel like it. And did I mention my neck was killing me? After finally making it back to shore, I called a reverse-audible against the two-mile plan.
Instead, I stashed my wetsuit in the car, laced up my runners, strapped on my Garmin and Ipod, and set out on the bike trail for a little five mile run. I contemplated bringing my water bottle of Nunn with me, and then thought, "It's only five miles -- not worth it." before locking it in my car.
But about half-way through the run, when I was having water-fountain-related hallucinations and goosebumps were sprouting on my arms and legs and I was chilled despite the 80-degree heat, I could've just kicked myself.
With a little AC/DC and Eye of the Tiger, during which I visualized both feeling this bad during Ironman and how great it would be to have people cheering, "Come on! You can do this! X more miles until you're an Ironman!", and fueled by the knowledge that if I just kept running -- or ran faster -- I'd reach my water bottle that much sooner, I picked up the pace to an 8:30 mile for the last mile and upon reaching the parking lot, threw up. Beauty.
But I was done...with a really good, really solid four-hour workout, despite some serious chop and a pain in the neck and a little overheating issue. And it felt so good that I went home and treated myself to a protein shake and a couple late-night glasses of wine with friends on my condo building's rooftop garden.
And today, I have realized that Ironman shape and drinking shape are mutually exclusive endeavors. Because in addition to the neck, I now have a pain in my head. Alas.
Posted by Erin 11:29 AM