WIBA
Monday, July 09, 2007
This past weekend was WIBA here in Madison. No, not the local radio station, or the Women's International Boxing Association. WIBA -- as in the Wisconsin Ironman Brick Adventure.
And before I get any further down that road, the organizers of the event -- namely IronWil -- deserve a huge "thank you" and "well done."
I approached this weekend with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Excitement because I've been going it mainly alone all this time -- all those long, long training days -- and I'd finally, finally have some peeps to train with. The trepidation, as it would, stems from a different side of that same coin -- I'd been training with myself all this time. What if I couldn't keep up? What if I was nowhere near where I should be in my training? What if, what if, what if? Arrrghhhh. Overanalyze, anyone?
Friday was a 20-30 minute swim in Lake Monona, followed by an hour run (or, for me, an hour on the elliptical machine. Ugh.) and then dinner at Tutto Pasta.
Right off the bat, the first person I met getting ready for the short swim was TriAl, who had stumbled across my blog somehow. "Ahhh, Erin...yeah, you were the one who posted about the double Verona loop." This would happen again and again over the weekend, and not just to me. It seems that everyone training for an IM has a blog, and that they all know of/read up on one another. My theory? It stems from the incessant, obsessive search for race reports, combing them for what TO do, and what not to do, tips. As I discovered at dinner that night, I'm far from being the only one who does this.
The swim and elliptical were great (meaning, I got them in without issue -- at least, when I just swam and quit worrying about fast and thus, stopped floundering around), and then it was on to dinner. I couldn't wait to meet other Ironmen/women and Ironwannabies. For this mostly solo-trainer, it was like Christmas, in July.
Apparently, a lot of others felt the same way. Like 40-more-people-than-had-RSVP'd others. I was one of the first handful to arrive, and there were about four tables. But over the following hour, people just kept streaming in. I ended up at a table with a couple of guys from the huge Bloomington, IL crew, RobbyB -- who helped with organizing the weekend shindig, Jeff -- from my Wednesday-night swim group whom I hadn't yet met there, and a couple others. It was a great mix of veterans and newbies, and I garnered some great tips and a dose of confidence that yes, I could indeed do this. And, more than anything, it was fun. Fun to be around such great, nice, friendly people. Fun to have a chance to talk at length with others in the same boat.
After getting some swag bags from Hammer Nutrition, it was home to organize for the next morning and try to get some sleep. The swim, we learned at dinner, was to start at 6:30 a.m. instead of 7 a.m.
Chief of Stuff was going to do the bike portion of the day with me, so we decided he'd bring my bike with him at 8:15 (sharp) before we all clipped-in at 8:30 at Law Park. That meant organizing all of my nutrition for the next day, everything I needed for the swim, and what I'd need in terms of clothing for the bike. I finally hit the hay well after 11 pm.
5:15 a.m. came early. I wanted to be up in time to eat, digest, and walk over to the Monona Terrace for the swim. One peanut butter English muffin and a Gatorade sport shake later, I was headed out the door with my wetsuit and swim bag.
Walking over to the Terrace, I knew it was going to be hot. Brutally hot. It already was. And muggy. Did I mention hot?
The swim went relatively well. Not sure how much distance I covered (and this is my #1 big worry these days...the swim, and making the cutoff on that), but I was in the water for just over an hour and mostly felt good. By "mostly" I mean, except for the part where the (supposedly) digested English muffin thought that it had the run of my body, from stomach to mouth, to slosh around in since I'd been in a prone position for so long. I didn't know quite how to throw up in a lake without having to swim through it, so I bobbed around vertically for a bit to make sure everything was back down where it should be, and then started swimming again.
Long swims are odd things. You don't really get exhausted tired, like with running. Your legs and arms don't really burn like they do when climbing hills on the bike. But you get out of breath, and then you panic a little. At least I do. And I get bored. Bored because you can't hear much of anything (except for the electric whrrrr of the a-hole with his MasterCraft who was trying to decapitate swimmers in our little group), and bored because you just don't make much progress. It's slow going, and even though the Terrace looks close in the relative terms you'd use by bike or foot, when you're dragging yourself through the water, a mile looks like a hell of a long ways.
I didn't have a watch on, and with the group I got into the water having pulled far ahead of me, I panicked that I'd be the last one in the water. I pictured CoS standing there, my bike in hand, waiting for me long after every single other person had left. Or worse, getting out of the water when they were all there and on their bikes, ready to leave. Embarrassing scenarios, both. So I kicked things into high gear, and swam stronger than I thought I could until I was almost back to the Terrace. It was then that I saw a group swimming toward me -- part of OUR group. Whew. They were just on their way out on the out-and-back swim. So, I slowed a bit, tried to find a rhythm, and relaxed.
There were now two MasterCrafts pulling skiers and ski-jumpers in one small little area near the swim start, and the combination created competing waves. I felt like I was treading water. Every time I tried to breathe, regardless of what direction I tried, I got smacked in the face by a wave. In the spirit of self-preservation, I considered hopping out at one of the docks, but because I didn't want to look like a wimp, I swam on. Later, I saw others doing just as I had wanted to, and thought, Good, so I wasn't that far off.
The bike portion had three choices/groups. You could either embark on the full 112 mile course, leave from the Terrace and do one lap and then back (a little under 80 miles), or start at Fireman's Park in Verona and do two loops, also about 80 miles. I chose the second group. It was supposed to be well over 90 degrees and on urging of my physical therapist, decided I didn't need to push it with my hip. After all, I live here, and I could do the 112 if I wanted/needed to some other time.
The first part of the ride, going out McCoy road, all I could think was, "Gawd, this sucks." I wasn't happy about being bike-side. Neither, to be completely honest, was my backside. Before I knew it, though, we had tackled Whalen Road and headed into Verona. It was getting hotter, but in a weird move on the part of my body, I was feeling better and better (I almost never handle heat very well...I just don't sweat enough).
Perhaps part of it was talking our little group (as part of the bigger WIBA group) through the turns of the course. A) it made me feel useful, B) it got my mind off of me and onto what was coming up, and C) it was fun to hear people ask, "are we done with the hills now?" (Ahhhh, no. Not even close).
Again, before I knew it, we were in Mt. Horeb, stopping at the Mobil station which, by now, felt like a second home. Bikers streamed in, buying gallons of water and jockeying for a little patch of grass in the shade. CoS and I popped some salt tabs and split a Coke. It went down surprisingly well, and I saw a few others doing the same. Not sure why this works, but it just does. The same stuff that makes you belch when you're watching a movie and rots teeth is like some kind of super-endurance serum when biking on a 90-degree day. Go figure.
Back on the bike, my favorite part of the course was still to come. And this is what I love, in a sick sort of way, about the IM-Moo course -- I hate the quick turns and steep speed bump hills of Valley Road and Marsh View Road. I hate the gradual inclines on Highway G and 92 that aren't really even inclines to the naked eye (or motorist's eye), but seem to go on forever. But the course from Mt. Horeb on? Bring it! I love the steep downhills and steeper uphills. I love trying to get over 40 mph on Garfoot Road, and scaring myself on how fast I can take the corners. And I have a really, really special place in my heart for the Three Bitches -- the IM-Moo's infamous hills.
I don't know why I love this part of the course. Perhaps it's because it's challenging, technically. Perhaps it's because other people complain about its climbs endlessly and I just like a really good challenge. Perhaps it's because I know I can conquer the Three Bitches now without getting out of my saddle once, two times around, and keep pedaling on after the crest. I don't know what it is, but it just feels good. No, it feels great.
We stopped at Fireman's Park in Verona to refuel (WIBA included a SAG vehicle, overflowing with Hammer products, free of charge. Can anyone say kickass?) and you could tell people were feeling it. Or not feeling it, whatever the case may be. The heat was taking it's toll (it was HOT -- so much so, in fact, that it almost felt better to be pedaling on your bike than standing still, because at least you were creating a breeze that way), and people all around were talking about bowing out of the full-course or two-loop ride. Some were out of it, others had simply had it. I recognized that feeling. This course, especially on your first time out, could do that. Add a heat index of 100+ degrees, and it was easy to see how meltdowns (no pun intended) could happen.
But the thing I was pleased -- hell, almost giddy -- about, was that I felt good. Really, really good -- nutritionally, mentally, and physically (hip pain excluded). Were it not for the bad wheel and the PT's advice to take it easy, I would have been fueling up for my second loop.
And now, with the exception of the swim, I know I can do this. I've ridden 120 miles in pouring rain and did a sprint tri the next morning in an even bigger monsoon. I've done two loops of the course -- two times up the bitches -- in hot weather all by myself as dark was descending on Verona. And I've done the remainder of the course -- the stick of the lollipop -- and another loop in unbearably hot weather, and felt great doing it.
Back at my condo, I hopped on the elliptical for a quick 45-minute jaunt, and it wasn't until the last eight minutes that I wanted my workout to just be over. And then it was.
Lying on the floor, attempting to stretch afterward, CoS asked, "Are we okay?"
I furrowed my brow at him.
"I mean, you're just quiet, and I wanted to check in and make sure all is okay."
I laughed then. Out loud. Belly-laughed.
"Dude, I just worked out for almost ten hours. Cut me some slack."
Sunday, I cut myself some slack. I wanted to meet up for the rest of the WIBA festivities, but I wanted some time to myself more. So I woke up at 7 a.m. (couldn't sleep), hopped back on the elliptical for an hour and a half, watched the first stage of the Tour, and then had the Day of Erin -- complete with a Starbucks and Target run, eating brunch at Pasqual's, and sunning by the (noisy and overcrowded with splashing kids but still better than nothing) pool all afternoon. I even finished a whole book, start to finish.
What. A. Weekend.
Posted by Erin 11:44 AM
Enjoy your day -- Robert
I like your theory about IM blogs. I think I was just avoiding doing real work.
Good luck with the training and IM WI!!!
See you next year at WIBA '08!!!