How It's Done
Friday, August 17, 2007
When people hear you're training for an Ironman, they say one of two things. The first is, "I could never do that." The second is, "I don't know how you do it."
There are basics involved in "doing" an Ironman. You follow a training plan. You put your time in. You keep your head down and your legs, arms, and feet moving forward, every day. And you hope that eventually, if you do what's written in your plan, you will have somehow transformed yourself from a recreational athlete to something "other than" -- a body and mind that's up to the challenge of anywhere from 11 to 17 (god-willing) hours of constant motion on one specific day. You allow yourself that hope, and then it's back to focusing on just the next workout, and then the next, and then the next. You have to be self-motivated and endlessly disciplined. It is tedious and it is monotonous. It is also selfish. For those of us training for this thing -- this one day, this one blip in time in our lives -- this is how we do it: We put off planned visits to see you because our training schedule and finances just don't allow for one this summer. We don't return phone calls as often as we should, or at all. We decline invitations to get together for dinner or drinks, month after month, always with the promise, "After this is over..." And if we do accept an invitation, we're usually late on account of a workout running over. We skip out of board and committee meetings and other extracurricular obligations month after month. We stop going to the grocery store. Or to Target. Or to Walgreens. We stop making our fair share of meals. We expect that if you need something, you'll take care of that for yourself. We come in late and leave early, and take sick or vacation days, from work -- not to spend time with you, relaxing, but to work out. We are too tired, night after night, to carry on a whole conversation or to show proper interest in what's going on with you; but expect you to care what's going on with every minutia of our training, night after night. We talk incessantly about Ironman and all things related, and expect you to be as engaged as we are in this crazy undertaking. We plan a year full of weekends around ourselves -- our races, our training, our needs and wants. We miss birthdays, weddings, baptisms, anniversaries, holidays, and church with the excuse that "it's only for this year." And then we expect you to be as excited as we are when we sign up for another run at this next year. We take and take and take -- your time ... your patience ... your support -- and give only the promise of being a better friend, girlfriend/wife, daughter/niece/granddaughter, coworker, and mom/dog-mom "after this is over." How do we do it? The better question is, how do you? You see, there are so many of us who could never do this without so many of you. Because the truth is, no one goes 140.6 miles -- or all those that precede them -- alone. We are a lucky bunch, us Ironmen-in-training. And that's thanks to all of you. You know who you are...Posted by Erin 8:37 AM
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I'm greatful to have a family that supports my "whims". Before I signed up for IronMan -- none of us had bikes -- now we all have bikes (Treks with aero bars) and the entire family participated in Triathlons with me this summer (my 14 yr old came in 2nd in Door County in his age group!). Even though it will be me lining up for the swim start on Sept 9th -- it'll be because of my wife and kids. Gotta love it!
Have a nice weekend,
Robert
As for me, I already do a lot of the stuff on your list (don't return calls, neglect my obligations, etc). That's kind of scary since I haven't signed up for an IM yet...... hmmmm.
p.s. yes, it's a vizsla on my blog. I also have a weim. You need to post some pics of your babies.. especially the puppy, there is nothing cutter than a vizsla puppy!
I may need to borrow this if/when I do another IM.